#benefits of butter milk

[kashiffitlife]

5 EYE-OPENING FACTS ABOUT EGG NUTRITION YOU NEED TO KNOW!

1. Eggs Are Nutrient Powerhouses

This section emphasizes the keyword ‘Egg Nutrition’ by highlighting how eggs are rich in essential nutrients. The goal is to capture the attention of search engines and users interested in understanding the nutritional value of eggs. Including phrases like “nutrient powerhouses” reinforces the idea that eggs are a valuable source of various nutrients, contributing to a well-rounded and healthy diet.

Table of Contents

1. Eggs Are Nutrient Powerhouses

2. The Cholesterol Conundrum Egg Nutrition

3. Eggs Aid in Weight Management

4. Rich in Antioxidants for Eye Health

5. Versatile and Budget-Friendly

In Conclusion

Q1: Are eggs a complete source of protein?

1. Are eggs a good source of protein?

2. How do eggs benefit brain health?

3. Can eggs help with weight management?

4. Are egg yolks healthy, or should I only consume egg whites?

5. Are there any concerns about cholesterol in eggs?

2. The Cholesterol Conundrum Egg Nutrition

Here, the keyword ‘Egg Nutrition’ is woven into the discussion about cholesterol in eggs. By addressing the cholesterol concerns associated with eggs, the content aims to attract users searching for information on the nutritional aspects of eggs, including their impact on cholesterol levels. The section delves into recent studies, adding a layer of authority to the content.

3. Eggs Aid in Weight Management

This part is optimized for the keyword ‘Egg Nutrition’ by focusing on the role of eggs in weight management. It uses phrases like “high protein content” and “satiety,” appealing to users interested in the nutritional benefits of eggs for weight loss. By mentioning research findings, the content establishes credibility and offers valuable insights into the positive impact eggs can have on calorie intake.

4. Rich in Antioxidants for Eye Health

In this section, the keyword ‘Egg Nutrition’ is incorporated to highlight the presence of antioxidants in eggs and their benefits for eye health. By using terms like “Lutein” and “zeaxanthin,” the content targets users seeking information on specific nutrients in eggs and their effects on eye health. This helps in attracting a more specialized audience interested in nutritional support for vision.

5. Versatile and Budget-Friendly

The keyword ‘Egg Nutrition’ is subtly integrated into this section by showcasing the versatility and budget-friendly nature of eggs. Phrases like “nutritious and versatile” appeal to users searching for economical yet nutritious food options. By emphasizing the flexibility of incorporating eggs into various dishes, the content caters to a broader audience interested in practical and affordable nutrition.

In Conclusion

The concluding section reiterates the central theme of ‘Egg Nutrition’ by summarizing the key points discussed throughout the article. It serves as a concise overview of the nutritional benefits of eggs, reinforcing the relevance of the keyword. The goal is to leave a lasting impression on both users and search engines, positioning the article as a comprehensive resource on the topic of egg nutrition.

FAQ’s

Q1: Are eggs a complete source of protein?

Absolutely! Eggs are a complete protein source, containing all the essential amino acids our bodies need for optimal muscle function, repair, and growth.

1. Are eggs a good source of protein?

Yes, eggs are an excellent source of high-quality protein. They contain all nine essential amino acids that our bodies cannot produce on their own, making them a complete protein source. Including eggs in your diet can contribute to muscle development, repair, and overall protein intake.

2. How do eggs benefit brain health?

Eggs are rich in choline, a nutrient crucial for brain health. Choline plays a vital role in the production of neurotransmitters and the development of the brain during pregnancy. Regular consumption of eggs may support cognitive function and memory.

3. Can eggs help with weight management?

Yes, eggs can be beneficial for weight management. They are a satiating food, meaning they can help you feel fuller for longer periods, reducing overall calorie intake. Additionally, the protein in eggs can support muscle retention, which is essential for a healthy metabolism.

4. Are egg yolks healthy, or should I only consume egg whites?

Contrary to the misconception that egg yolks are unhealthy, they are a rich source of essential nutrients. While egg whites provide protein, the yolks contain important vitamins (such as vitamin D and B12), minerals, and antioxidants. Consuming the whole egg in moderation offers a more balanced nutritional profile.

5. Are there any concerns about cholesterol in eggs?

Current research suggests that for most people, dietary cholesterol from eggs has minimal impact on blood cholesterol levels. However, individuals with specific health conditions, such as diabetes, should monitor their cholesterol intake. It’s advisable to consult with a healthcare professional to determine the most suitable dietary choices based on individual health needs.

[dudbazer]

MILK

[luckshmi]

Skincare Rituals According to Your Moon Sign: An Ayurvedic Guide

In Vedic astrology, the Moon sign (Rashi) plays a significant role in shaping our emotional well-being and daily habits. The Moon's influence is closely tied to our inner self, and understanding it can provide deep insights into personalized self-care routines, including skincare.

By combining the principles of Ayurveda with the wisdom of Vedic astrology, we can tailor skincare rituals that not only enhance our outer beauty but also nourish our inner selves. This guide explores detailed skincare routines for each Moon sign, highlighting their unique characteristics and needs.

Aries Moon

Characteristics: Aries Moons are energetic, dynamic, and often on the go. Their fiery nature can lead to skin issues like inflammation, redness, and sensitivity.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle, cooling cleanser with cucumber or aloe vera to soothe inflammation.

Exfoliant: Opt for a mild exfoliant with chamomile or oatmeal to calm the skin.

Moisturizer: Apply a lightweight, hydrating moisturizer containing green tea extract to reduce redness.

Mask: Use a cooling clay mask once a week to detoxify and soothe the skin.

Benefits: This routine helps calm and cool the skin, reducing inflammation and maintaining a balanced complexion.

Taurus Moon

Characteristics: Taurus Moons are grounded and indulgent, appreciating luxury and comfort. Their skin tends to be resilient but requires deep hydration and nourishment.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Choose a rich, creamy cleanser with nourishing oils like almond or avocado.

Toner: Use a rosewater toner to hydrate and balance the skin's pH levels.

Moisturizer: Apply a thick, luxurious moisturizer with shea butter and honey.

Mask: Indulge in a weekly honey and yogurt mask to nourish and rejuvenate the skin.

Benefits: This routine provides deep hydration, leaving the skin soft, supple, and glowing.

Gemini Moon

Characteristics: Gemini Moons are youthful, curious, and communicative. Their skin can be sensitive and prone to dryness due to their airy nature.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle foaming cleanser with chamomile or calendula.

Serum: Apply a hydrating serum with hyaluronic acid and vitamin E.

Moisturizer: Choose a lightweight moisturizer with aloe vera and glycerin.

Mask: Use a hydrating sheet mask once a week to boost moisture levels.

Benefits: This routine keeps the skin hydrated and calm, preventing dryness and sensitivity.

Cancer Moon

Characteristics: Cancer Moons are nurturing and deeply intuitive. Their skin can be sensitive and reactive, requiring gentle care.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a milk or cream cleanser with chamomile or lavender.

Toner: Apply a soothing toner with rosewater or witch hazel.

Moisturizer: Opt for a calming moisturizer with calendula and oat extract.

Mask: Use a hydrating and soothing mask with ingredients like aloe vera and cucumber.

Benefits: This routine soothes and protects sensitive skin, maintaining a healthy, radiant complexion.

Leo Moon

Characteristics: Leo Moons are confident and love to shine. Their skin can be prone to oiliness and occasional breakouts.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle foaming cleanser with tea tree oil or salicylic acid.

Toner: Apply a balancing toner with witch hazel and lemon extract.

Moisturizer: Choose a lightweight, oil-free moisturizer with aloe vera and green tea.

Mask: Use a charcoal or clay mask once a week to control oil and prevent breakouts.

Benefits: This routine helps balance oil production and maintain a clear, radiant complexion.

Virgo Moon

Characteristics: Virgo Moons are practical and detail-oriented. Their skin can be sensitive and prone to irritation.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle, natural cleanser with chamomile or calendula.

Exfoliant: Opt for a gentle exfoliant with oatmeal or rice powder.

Moisturizer: Apply a fragrance-free moisturizer with aloe vera and hyaluronic acid.

Mask: Use a calming mask with ingredients like cucumber and honey.

Benefits: This routine soothes and protects the skin, preventing irritation and maintaining a healthy glow.

Libra Moon

Characteristics: Libra Moons seek beauty and harmony. Their skin is often well-balanced but can benefit from extra hydration and care.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Choose a gentle foaming cleanser with rose or chamomile.

Toner: Apply a hydrating toner with rosewater and glycerin.

Moisturizer: Opt for a lightweight, hydrating moisturizer with hyaluronic acid and aloe vera.

Mask: Use a hydrating and balancing mask with ingredients like honey and yogurt.

Benefits: This routine maintains balance and hydration, keeping the skin looking fresh and glowing.

Scorpio Moon

Characteristics: Scorpio Moons are intense and transformative. Their skin can be prone to acne and other issues due to their deep emotions.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a deep-cleansing foaming cleanser with salicylic acid or tea tree oil.

Toner: Apply a balancing toner with witch hazel and lemon extract.

Moisturizer: Choose a lightweight, oil-free moisturizer with aloe vera and green tea.

Mask: Use a detoxifying mask with charcoal or clay once a week.

Benefits: This routine helps control oil, prevent breakouts, and maintain a clear complexion.

Sagittarius Moon

Characteristics: Sagittarius Moons are adventurous and optimistic. Their skin can be prone to dryness and sensitivity due to their active lifestyle.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle, hydrating cleanser with aloe vera or cucumber.

Serum: Apply a hydrating serum with hyaluronic acid and vitamin E.

Moisturizer: Opt for a rich, hydrating moisturizer with shea butter and jojoba oil.

Mask: Use a hydrating and soothing mask with ingredients like honey and yogurt.

Benefits: This routine keeps the skin hydrated and protected.

Capricorn Moon

Characteristics: Capricorn Moons are disciplined and ambitious. Their skin can be prone to dryness.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle, hydrating cleanser with chamomile or calendula.

Toner: Apply a hydrating toner with rosewater and glycerin.

Moisturizer: Opt for a rich, hydrating moisturizer with shea butter and aloe vera.

Mask: Use a hydrating and soothing mask with ingredients like honey and cucumber.

Benefits: This routine keeps the skin hydrated, glowing and healthy

Aquarius Moon

Characteristics: Aquarius Moons are innovative and independent. Their skin can be sensitive and need deep hydration.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle, hydrating cleanser with aloe vera or cucumber.

Serum: Apply a hydrating serum with hyaluronic acid and vitamin E.

Moisturizer: Opt for a rich, hydrating moisturizer with shea butter and jojoba oil.

Mask: Use a hydrating and soothing mask with ingredients like honey and yogurt.

Benefits: This routine keeps the skin healthy and radiant.

Pisces Moon

Characteristics: Pisces Moons are compassionate and dreamy, with sensitive skin that often needs extra care to stay hydrated and healthy.

Skincare Ritual:

Cleanser: Use a gentle, hydrating cleanser with chamomile or calendula to soothe and cleanse without stripping moisture.

Toner: Apply a hydrating toner with rosewater and glycerin to refresh and prepare the skin for moisturizing.

Moisturizer: Opt for a rich, hydrating moisturizer with shea butter and aloe vera to nourish and protect the skin.

Mask: Use a hydrating and soothing mask with ingredients like honey and cucumber once a week for extra hydration and calmness.

Benefits: This routine keeps Pisces Moon's sensitive skin hydrated, soothed, and protected, ensuring a healthy, radiant complexion that reflects their compassionate and dreamy nature.

By understanding your Moon sign and incorporating Ayurvedic skincare rituals tailored to your unique emotional and physical needs, you can enhance your skin's health and overall well-being. These personalized routines not only address specific skin concerns but also align with your inner self, providing a holistic approach to beauty and self-care.

[wardenparker]

Baked in Soulmates

Pero Tovar x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.5k Warnings: Fluff, random historical factoids, flirting, grumpy-sunshine dynamic, discussion of past lovers/lives, talking about sex, food/alcohol consumption, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: After having a premonition about him many decades ago, Peor Tovar finally walks into your bakery and turns your world inside out. Notes: Inspired by and based upon The Smell of Fresh Bread - a Writer Wednesday that Keri did some time ago, which has long been one of my favorite Pero pieces ever. It's a great way to bring Spooktober to an end! 🧡 As always, I apologize for any errors I might have missed in proofreading.

It was a rare day that saw you sitting at the table in the staff sitting room with nothing to do, and today unfortunately was no exception. While the cook took her time with the menus and the pantry and fussing at the scullery maids, you put in the long and diligent hours of a baker all for the benefit of this one great house.

It worked well for you, or at least it had in the past, to come into a large house like this and cook here for as many years as you can remain inconspicuous before finding an excuse to move on. It's easier that way. There are fewer explanations to give.

At least in this house there are more like you.

Kneading the dough for buns that will be studded with dried fruit and candied peel to be slathered with butter at tea, you hum quietly to yourself and focus on the rhythm of the work. Baking has been your steady companion through every lifetime you've lived and every country you've passed through, keeping you steady even when your magic became erratic or the treacherous uphill march of immortality weighed too heavily on your shoulders. A soft hum and the steady pace of kneading dough will keep you moving forward. They always have before.

“Ohhhh they are wanting their tea early.” Sally comes bursting into the kitchen, flustered and annoyed. “They are wanting it at three instead of four.” She huffs as she rushes over to the large cabinet. “And the mister wants another cup of coffee now that he has let the last one get too cold.”

"And he'll not perish during the five minutes that it takes to make," you hum pleasantly, not looking up from your work. The young housemaid seems always to be in a tizzy and you're far too old at this point to get worked up about anything so generally small. "Tea at three is just fine. Everything will be ready in time."

“Are you sure?” She hates when they change things around, believing that the house should run like a clock and it shouldn’t change.

"I will work a little faster, that is all." And there may be a dash of magic in the teacakes if necessary, just to make sure they rise in time. The family need never know.

“You are magical.” She heaves a sigh of relief, always put at ease by your unflappability. “It is always when he decides to come home.”

“If I had a shilling for every time a man made plans needlessly complicated, I would be rich as Croesus,” you hum, almost dismissively, but laugh to put Sally at ease. The fact is, you are fairly rich. But the wealth accumulated over centuries of immortality must be carefully parceled out. “There is no need to get worked up just because the master is in a tizzy.”

“You are right.” She sighs again and rolls her shoulders as she waits for the pot to boil. “As you usually are.”

“With age comes wisdom, my dear.” Though you look no older than thirty, the young housemaid has no idea how much wisdom you truly have.

“I suppose that is true.” She huffs slightly and starts to set up the sugar and milk for the coffee.

Down the hall, the servants’ door opens, letting in a gust of autumn wind that carries the scent of crisp leaves and the apple trees in the garden. It wafts in the scent of the wood fire from the next room over and picking up the muted notes of lingering from the cup of tea you had made for yourself which is now growing cold on the work table nearby.

It also carries, somehow, the crisp, atmospheric smell of stardust.

And within seconds your mind is engulfed with entirely another scene altogether.

Cardamom, cinnamon and rosemary scent the air along with the yeasty smell of fresh bread. A man opens the door. Dark, scarred with eyes that are brooding and seemingly holding a thousand years worth of secrets. Even in the unfamiliar and very informal dress, his stance is one of a solider. This is a man who has seen war and is on guard from unseen enemies lurking around every corner. Dark hair, short and practical, is unstyled and accompanied by facial hair that is not in fashion during this time. “Buenas—”

An entirely different, sharp and acidic, unpleasant smell pulls you from the vision. In just a moment you've gone from standing at your work table to lying on the stone floor of the kitchen, with Sally wailing and fretting in the background and the caretaker kneeling over you with a stern frown painted on his face.

Smelling salts have been useful for centuries, but that does not mean the smell of them has improved any.

"I'm alright." Your voice is hoarse though, and weak, and the man looks less than impressed. Under the cover of Sally's wails, you are able to murmur the truth to the warlock surveying you for injury. "It was a vision. I'm alright."

“A vision?” He frowns and helps you sit up. “Do you need to go to your room to write it down?” He asks quietly.

"I ought to." You nod, scrubbing your temples with your fingers and feeling them sticky against your skin. "But the dough..." That dough needs to be finished kneading and rested if tea is going to be served early today.

“I can finish it.” You have shown him how many times and he knows how important it is to write down specifics while they are fresh in your mind.

"Cover it in the bowl and put it by the stove when you're done?" It's no small thing to offer to finish your chore for you, and you're grateful for the kindness. "I'll just go and freshen up," you say a little louder, hoping to quell some of Sally's vocal worrying with reassurance.

Helping you to your feet, he snorts and waves Sally away. “Take the coffee where it belongs.” He orders, even though he had no authority in the house, he is tired of listening to her caterwauling.

“Thank you.” Touching his arm gently, you give the man a nod. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Smirking slightly, he sweeps his cap off his head and bows. “Anything for you, my lady.” He intones playfully and winks at you before turning to take an extra apron off the hook and wash his hands.

******

Life in that house was good. The family was reasonably kind, they paid as well as they could, and the company you had kept then was amiable. The caretaker had been kind enough and gentle enough that when he had confessed love for you, you had gone to his arms and to his bed for more years than you had expected. But as always, you had needed to move on.

Sometime in the early 1950s you had made it back to America for the second time, and found work in a bakery in the North End of the city run by an Italian family. The focaccia you made there was different than the type the cobbler's wife in Rome had taught you to make, but only out of necessity. That cobbler's wife and that Rome were nearly six hundred years gone by then.

Here, you told the family employing you that you were a widow and supplied stories of the caretaker whenever pressed for details of your late husband. They assumed that he had died in the war. You did not contradict them.

And then one day the scent of warm spices and a new vision of the dark man with his scared eye came to you, and you learned his name.

Pero Tovar.

******

The bell above the door tinkles, letting you know that someone has come in. A necessity when you are so often in the back with your ovens. “Buenas Dias.” Pero has learned that manners are necessary in this time, if you want to have people not refuse your coin. Even if it is a small plastic card. “I need a loaf of whatever smells so good.” He grunts, slapping his card down on the counter, belly rumbling.

The visions had not many sense for many years. Of course the familiarity of a bakery was something you could understand. A customer. A sale. But the little rectangle in his hand did not begin to make sense until plastic and credit cards became realities. But all the visions of your past had eventually come true, so the faith you have in your magic had brought you to today. To the loaves of bread leaving your oven and being set lovingly on wire racks. The lingering, mingling smells of cardamom, cinnamon, rosemary, and yeast mixing with autumn air and your customary tea.

To the man walking through the door of your shop.

The loaf you had handed him in your second vision was what most bakers called artisan now. An old world thing with wheat germ and oats and none of the processed white flour that was most popular in the modern world. This was bread that smelled of dirt-floored cottages and honey – more precious than gold – being stored in clay pots and bargained over. This bread smells of home, and through your vision you had felt the same would be true for him.

So you took it from your racks and savored the scent, placing it on a trencher with jam and butter, and handed it to him to enjoy. When he tried to pay, you only gently refused. "For you, Pero Tovar, there is no charge." You tell him, enjoying a private smile and his shock all at once. "Eat and remember."

“How do you know my name?” Pero had been drawn here by the smells of the past. The scent of time forgotten. Pulling from him the core memories that have almost been forgotten until they are recalled. Sitting unused and dusty like a book on an abandoned library shelf. In the time he came from, books were more rare than gold, now people carelessly toss them aside when they don’t care for the words written inside them.

"I have known your name for a long time." You can't say just how long. Not yet. There are still many things to learn about the man from your visions. "Sit," you encourage, nudging the plate toward him again. "Remember. Enjoy."

He doesn’t question you, he doesn’t attack you. Despite this time’s view on weapons, Pero still does not walk around unarmed. He could have a knife at your throat in an instant. Instead, he sits at a small table and tears apart the bread with his hands like he would have when he was on his first set of years.

It is a satisfying sight, you have to admit that much. Raw enthusiasm is in short supply in this modern age. To see someone devour the food that you prepare is an enormous part of why you have continued to bake century after century. In continues to be a challenge to feed all of the hungry people in the world, but you do your part. And this one man is included in that number.

For more than a century, this man's face has held a place in your mind, so you stop at his table to put a cup of coffee at his place as well. Let him enjoy himself, you think, and offer him a smile when you put down the mug.

Pero pauses, glancing up at you and then back down at the steaming cup of coffee. “Gracias.” He murmurs after a moment and picks it up. It doesn’t appear to have all the sweet creams and syrups that they have in this era and for some reason, he’s disappointed by that. Although it would be more than what he had drank when he was riding towards the East and selling his sword.

"Come back after sunset," you tell him, and walk away again to greet the new customers who have come through the door.

He frowns at the comment, wondering what he will need to come back for. How you know his name, he had checked his credit card. The name is on the back, so you didn’t get it from there. He is suspicious, but that just means he will come back.

******

It’s not that your shop strictly closes at sunset, but as the proprietor and only employee, you have the luxury of making your day what you like. From sunrise to sunset you sell breads and sweets and coffee and tea to your customers, and luxuriate in the ability to do as you please. If someone upsets you or is rude? You can simply turn them away. If they are kind and lovely? They can have their treats for free. The only person keeping track is you.

Tonight, like every night, you bundle up your unsold things to be picked up by the young lady who works for the village, and she distributes them amongst the poor and the hungry at night as she makes sure that each and every one has a roof over their head and a warm place to sleep. This, you have already decided, is the person from this life you will be leaving a great deal of money to when you must disappear and move on. You always choose one, and this time it will be her.

It is in this state, humming yourself as you load up paper bags with bread at the end of the day, that Pero Tovar finds you once more.

This time, the bell does not alert you to his presence, he had manage to slip inside without disturbing it. “How do you know my name?” He asks, watching as you look up from your task.

“Good evening, Señor Tovar,” you murmur politely, undisturbed and unperturbed when you look up.

It makes him frown even more when you aren’t surprised by his presence. “You seem to know me, but I would remember meeting you.”

“Would you?” That is what surprises you, and you look up to find him watching you carefully.

He doesn’t know what game you are playing, but he is starting to get frustrated. “Who are you?” He demands again.

You supply your first name easily enough, and finish depositing the bread loaves and sweets into bags. Everything except the small white cardboard box on your counter. That is marked with his name and tied up in string. “I’m like you are.” You tell him calmly.

He highly doubts that. “A bastard?” He snorts, purposefully misunderstanding. “You seem too sweet for that.”

“Actually?” You chuckle a little. “Yes. I am. But I meant that I am older than I look. As you are.”

"I'm thirty-eight." At least that's what it says on his driver's license. This lifetime at least. "Do you think you know me from somewhere?" He demands, wondering what you are playing at.

“I would sooner believe you to be five hundred and thirty-eight.” Your visions never specified too much about him, but the aura of magic he held around him had some of the same hallmarks as yours. Namely, enchantments and immortality. “We have never met, but I have seen you before.”

His jaw tightens and Pero growls dangerously, stepping closer to you. "You are mad, witch." He hisses, shaken to his very core that you might know of his plight even though he much older than your claim.

“Perhaps.” You actually laugh a little. “But at least you are right about one thing. I am a witch.”

That confuses him, making him furrow his brow together and frown. Looking around the kitchen to see if there something to explain all of this.

“Come and sit down.” That feels like the right thing to do, and you motion to one of the tables close by. “If you would like me to, I will tell you what I know.”

He watches you for a moment, gauging you before he moves over to the table and pulls out a chair and sits.

"You know that magic is real." Coming to sit down with him, you bring two cups of coffee to give you both something to do with your hands. He had frowned at his cup earlier when you set it down, so this time you had added a touch of caramel and vanilla to the hot steamed milk to see if he liked that better. "We have both been touched by it in different ways. But both of us have been given immortality. Whether that is a blessing or a curse depends on the day."

“How old are you?” He demands after a moment, leaning over and staring at you with an intensity that would make a mere mortal uneasy.

"That would be a rude question to ask a lady in any century, but fortunately for you it is a moot point." An amused smile curls your lips as you sit back and sip your coffee. "I do not know. When I was born they did not keep track of birthdays so studiously."

“What is the earliest century you remember?” He asks instead, aware that it is only because of his own parents he had been aware of his age before his trip to the Wall.

Thinking back as much as you can, you sip your coffee in silent thought for long moments before finally being able to answer. "I remember the news that Charlamagne had been crowned emperor." You tell him. "I was a child, and a messenger came to our village. But life went on as usual, unaffected by the change in man who supposedly ruled us."

“How did you come to live this long then?” You are older than he is, but a good four hundred years. His eyes are wide and curious, never meeting another than has been cursed with walking the earth without end.

"I tended to a dying witch," you tell him, sitting forward again at the table with your cup in your hands. "She was very powerful. The woman who taught us all and who raised us up to the goddess. It was an honor to tend to her even in her painful last moments. And she blessed each of us with a gift. The other girls were older than me. One she wished eternal kindness on, that she and her family would always be good to each other. To the other she gave an endless curiosity of spirit. That girl died within the year from eating things she should not, which I do not think was the intention of the gift." You shrug slightly, having thought of these other girls so often that it no longer brings you sadness to think of them so long ago. "When it came time to give me a blessing, she was in the throes of more pain, and she wished to the goddess that I should never know the pain of death that she endured in that moment."

“So you never find the peace of eternal slumber.” Pero leans back, still confused as to how you could have known about him. His own existence is a curiosity that he has never been able to explain despite the theories. Witches no longer hold the same fear that they might have centuries ago. He has seen too many gods and people fall through the ages.

“I understand it is possible.” But you shrug your shoulders. “But it would require enchanted items that seem to no longer exist.”

Pero nods. “So how do you know about me?” He asks. “Have you been watching me?” He thought he had been more careful. It was hard to cover his tracks with the scar on his face, but he had used prosthetics a few of the lives he has lived and explains the scarring away as the boons of war. He had tried hard to keep from being photographed, but now it was impossible.

"No." You sip your coffee again and nudge his cup toward him, encouraging him to do the same. "I have visions. And I had some of you."

“Visions?” In his entire life, Pero Tovar has never had a vision. He has memories, often coming to him while he sleeps in the form of dreams - or nightmares, but never visions. He picks up the cup and examines it for a moment before taking a sip and his eyes light up in delight at the sweetness.

Sweet things for this man, apparently. That will be easy enough to achieve. "My senses tingle. Smells become more acute and I can hear the songs in the wind. Then my mind's eye fogs over and I see..." Describing this is easier now, since the advent of new technologies. "As though I were watching a film, made from my own point of view. I see the future."

“So you saw me walk into your shop.” Pero reasons. “Any knowing my name?”

"The older I get, the more intense my visions are," you explain. "Centuries ago, they were more frequent and far less detailed. Now? I will rarely have more than one every few decades. But they are much more intense. More detailed. They instill knowledge in me instead of simply showing me an image."

Pero cannot say that he would envy a gift like that. It would put him on edge more than he normally is. “Why would you have visions of me?” He questions that part, taking another sip of his coffee.

“That,” you tell him, having the last sip of your coffee. “Is what I do not know.”

Your answer simultaneously makes him unease and relaxes him at the same time. Unsure of why he believes you, but he does. “I don’t know why I still walk the earth.” He admits quietly. “I had long believed it to be because of the Tao Tei, but no one else from those battles still roam.”

“Tao Tei?” The term isn’t one you’re familiar with, which is surprising. You’re familiar with quite a lot.

He looks out the window the modern streets and huffs to himself slightly. “Demons, aliens, monsters.” He shakes his head. “I still don’t know exactly what they are, but they were ferocious.”

“So they were creatures.” At that, you nod again and lean forward on the table. “That is most likely why I have not heard of them. Unless you can eat them or milk them I have had little interest. My many lifetimes have been spent mostly in a bustling kitchen.”

"They were in the far East. The Nameless order worked hard to keep word of them from spreading." Pero explains. "It is not like now. The word traveled so much slower than now."

“I miss it,” you admit without shame. “Things are so fleeting these days.”

"Some days I would have talked to no one but my horse.” Pero snorts, “now having a horse is rare.”

“I do like my bicycle.” That makes you grin. The bicycle you had bought while living in Boston in the 1950s is vintage now, but you learned to repair and care for it yourself. The basket on the front was long ago replaced with one of your own making as well. “But horses are wonderful companions.”

"So you have just been waiting for me to show up?" He asks, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that you know him. Even if this is the first real conversation you have had.

“More or less.” You agree. “Since 1909. Or really, since I bought this shop. I walked in the front door here about ten years ago and realized it was the bakery from the visions, so I got a job here and bought it when the previous owners decided to retire.”

He nods and looks around. “Looks like it is a nice place to live one of the many lives we experience.” He compliments. “Have you always been a baker?”

"Most of the time." He is entirely right. The two of you have lived countless lifetimes. Endless choices of where to go and who to be. But you have mostly kept to what makes you happy. "In different parts of the world, in different ways, and always learning new things. Have you always been a warrior?"

“Always.” He nods. “Although it is harder to do these days.” He admits. “Private security is more about using technology now than brute skill.”

"I imagine your sword is in far less demand these days." In fact you can't think of a single way he could use it outside of sport and discipline, which is a shame. A talented swordsman is a gloriously indulgent sight to watch. "Have you tried any of the new martial arts?"

He sighs, “all of them.” He admits. “But the MMA shit is boring.”

"Pobrecito," you tease, chuckling a little at his dismay. "You should fight fires, then. Use your strength and immortality for something valiant. Just to try it out."

“Fires.” He snorts and shakes his head. “I will scare the little girls hiding under their beds while the wallpaper burns.”

"Or inspire beautiful women to open their legs in gratitude." Standing from the table, you take the two empty coffee cups and round the nearby counter to rinse them and set them in the dishwasher.

“I have not taken a wife in many years.” Pero admits, looking down at his hands. “I do not wish to bury another.”

"Surely that does not mean you cannot enjoy a warm bed from time to time?" When you reemerge from behind the counter, you sit down again, sensing that there is plenty more talk to be had. "The last time I married was 1810, but that has not kept me from pleasure."

He chuckles. “I did not say that.” You have a modern take for one so old, but he doesn’t mind that. “It is hard to not feel dirty.” He snorts. “They are all so young.”

"Well that is true enough." And well worth sharing a laugh over. For there are very few in the world as old as the two of you. "There is not much to be done about an equal age, though. The community of immortals in the world is quite small, and always on the move. For reasons you understand all too well."

“Community?” Pero frowns, his head jerking up and he looks at you in confusion. “There are more?”

"I have met thirteen others, over the centuries." You tell him, nodding. "Mostly witches or warlocks, but also some who were enchanted at random, like you were. Mostly we acknowledge each other, share a few stories, and then go our separate ways."

“You are the first I have met.” Pero tells you. “I have always believed I was alone.” It had been a lonely existence, but he had felt like it was his punishment, or reward, for what happened at that wall. Although he could never explain why William lived out his life as expected and died an old man.

"There are many theories. About what could eventually kill us, or what can weaken us." Theories that you had been over time and time again with the few other immortals that you had come across. "Apparently it is possible for us to die. But...not easy."

“You mean being stabbed, blown up, crashing, or drowning would not do it?” He asks sarcastically, ticking off the ways he should have died many times over. He had come out with little more than a scratch.

"Apparently." Your head cocks to one side, wondering how he will take this. "It is more like a fairy story. Where true love restores us to our mortality."

Pero chuckles. “I have loved many times, bruja.” He reminds you. “Yet there is still no grey in my hair or beard.”

"True love." You correct him. "Not just love. I have loved more times than I can count. Endless, depths of the oceans of love. But supposedly the truest love our hearts can feel...that is what is supposed to do it."

Pero frowns, digesting your words and trying to understand them. “You are speaking of soulmates.” He murmurs. “Those do not exist.”

"Until today, you believed you were the lone immortal in the world." The reminder is stark, but not unkind. "Who is to say soulmates do not also exist?"

Pero sighs and nods, having to concede that fact. “You are right.” He grunts. “But if I had not found them in nine hundred years, then I fear I have none.” He smirks and huffs to himself. “My soul is long rotten.”

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not." There is really no way to know. No way to open up one's heart or soul and read the name written there in destiny's hand. "I suppose we can only wait and see."

He shakes his head and stands. “Then I guess that your vision has been fulfilled.” He feels oddly disheartened by that, but his face is set.

"Has it?" You do not rise from your seat, but watch him intently. "My vision could have had any of ten thousand meanings. But all I know is that we were destined to meet. I should hate for it to only be one time."

“Perhaps it will not be.” Pero nods to you and then glances at the door. “The darkness settles.” He reminds you. “You should go home, bruja.”

"Come again at closing time, if you would like to talk more." This time you do rise from the table. There are bags to gather and things to distribute to the needy. "I am always here. In this lifetime, anyway."

Pero nods and he’s unsure if he should offer to walk you home, but he reasons that you have been taking care of yourself for far longer than any other woman walking alone at night. “Gracias.” He murmurs before he disappears through the door as silently as he came.

“Buenas noches,” you murmur to his back, watching the swift and sleek way he retreats. Pero Tovar must have been an admirable opponent in his warring days.

*****

It takes an entire week for Pero to come back. He had been purposely avoiding that side of the village so he didn’t drop in. Doing research and trying to learn everything he can about you. Your digital footprint is good and the way you have set up your ‘lives’ is admirable. Now he wants to talk to you again.

His stealth is admirable, but you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye as you wipe down the counters. The last guest has left for the night and the village girl has come and gone for the bags of leftovers already. “Good evening, Pero Tovar.”

He almost asks how you knew he was here, but he doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer to you. “You have lived under the radar.” He says. “It was hard to find your trail at first.”

“But you have been successful now?” Finishing up your cleaning, you take your apron off and toss it in the small hamper you keep under the counter to accumulate washing. Every few days you take your towels and aprons home from the bakery to wash and dry at home. The ritual is soothing.

“As far back as 1841.” He admits. “The trail is harder to follow any farther back. Records are not as good from before as they are now.”

"1841..." You think back, trying to remember where you were an who you were then. "That was...Greece, wasn't it? Did you find employment records from the hotel?"

“Your marriage record.” Pero shakes his head. “But before then, it seems like you had just arrived from somewhere else.”

"From here," you tell him, smiling nostalgically. "From Spain. I was living in a fishing village on the Portuguese border. I met a Greek merchant who begged me to come away with him and..." Trailing off, you shrug your shoulders a little but never stop smiling. "It sounded like a grand, romantic adventure. Cristos was a good man, and I worked at a hotel in the islands for a long time."

Your voice takes on a soft, dreamy quality and for a moment, Pero is jealous of the Cristos you speak of. It must have been a grand romance. “I was in America during that time.”

"Oh?" You're interested in anything he is willing to share about himself. Unlike him, you did not go digging into his past. More hopeful that he would return to share with you when he was ready. "What did you do there?"

“Went west.” He had found the rough and Wild West fascinating and had enjoyed the hard journey. Remembering vividly blazing that trail to the East, so it was only fitting that he also went West.

"You were a cowboy." That image of him is actually fairly charming, morphing the smile on your lips slightly but not at all dimming it. "It must have been easy to blend in. With so many Spanish speakers all over the west back then."

“The language has changed so much over the years.” He snorts, knowing you are well aware of that fact. “There were a lot of Germans there too.”

"Did you sell your sword there as well?" It would have been guns by that point, far more often than swords, but your question is the same. Was he a warrior in that time too?

“Homesteader.” Pero shakes his head. “Started a ranch. But there was plenty of gunfights.”

"You actually settled down?" That surprises you, but you nod. It's impressive that a man so restless seems to have found moments of tranquility in this long life. "That must have been a welcome change."

“It was nice.” Pero frowns slightly, remembering the last wife he had taken. He had buried her on that ranch. Her and the baby who had also died in childbirth. “It wasn’t going to last though.”

"Not everything does," you say, but before you can stop yourself, you chuckle a little. "Except us."

“The only good thing is that I’ve not started aching like people complain about as they grow old.” Pero rolls his eyes. “Besides the normal middle-aged aches.”

You laugh again. "I count it as one of my truest blessings that I was given my immortality before the aches and pains set in."

“And that bone cracking doctor is amazing.” Pero groans, rolling his eyes slightly. “In my original time, he would have had all the riches in the world riding with a group.”

"A chiropractor?" Once again, your laugh rings through the shop. He is straight forward and honest, despite being suspicious and grumpy, and it makes you smile unexpectedly. "I would not have thought of that myself, but you're perfectly right."

He likes the sound of your laugh, his own grin quick and broad before his face slides back into that normally fearsome set. “I know I am.”

Letting your laughter linger in the air, you lean on the counter between you and consider him. The things you have wondered in the last week - and in the century before that - are running wild in your mind again. "I'm glad you came back."

“Not sure why.” He steps closer and tilts his head. “For you or for me.”

“Handsome and hungry,” you tell him with another laugh. “That’s my favorite kind of man.”

He lifts a brow, surprised that you would find him handsome. “Your bread is very good.” He admits. “I might have dreamed about it.”

“If you think my bread is good,” you hum, tucking a pleased smile into the corner of your mouth. “You should try my pastries.”

He glances towards the empty cases. “I will have to try them sometime.” He is hungry, but it seems like that has something that has never gone away despite the availability of food now compared to in the past.

“Or…” Noticing the expression on his lips and the hunger in his eyes, you tilt your head. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I was going to find food and I ended up here.” He had been trying to avoid coming to you for another day, but his feet had other ideas.

“We could…eat together?”

He obviously hadn’t thought about that, but it doesn’t sound bad. Often he eat alone and it would be nice to have someone sitting across from him. Perhaps a beautiful woman would help others not be so wary of him.

“Tovar?” Brooding and silent seems to be his way, but you asked a question that deserves an answer.

“What?” He frowns in confusion and realizes that he has not answered you. “Sí.” He nods. “Yes. What do you want to eat?”

“Do you like seafood?” You had made friends with a family that runs a restaurant on the nearby cliff overlooking the ocean. It is beautiful and the food is stunning. “I know a place.”

“I like food.” Pero jokes dryly, smirking slightly when you grin.

“We can walk.” Motioning toward the door, you excuse yourself for just long enough to disappear, grab your purse, and reappear again.

Pero watches as you step outside the shop after him and carefully locks up. Silently guarding you even though he’s not needed in that capacity.

“Down to the cliffs.” You tell him, wondering if he is accompanying you out of curiosity or out of boredom. Either way, it’s at least nice to spend time with someone like you. “This way.” Almost as soon as you say it, you head out through the village streets toward the promise of a warm meal and a cold drink.

Pero isn’t familiar with the town, if he’s honest. He doesn’t explore much, but he watches as you confidently saunter off down the road.

The walk takes only a few minutes, but when you arrive it is to the comforting smells of fresh food and the warmth of friendly smiles. You ask to be seated outside, enjoying the last sunset and thanking the owner when she lights the candle on your table to ward off the nighttime despite there being plenty of other light sources nearby. Your table on the edge of the patio is away from the others, giving you privacy to talk, and you have a feeling the owner might have mistakenly believed you to be on a date this evening.

Pero chooses the seat that gives him the view of the patio and anyone approaching, but he’s not so unmannered that he doesn’t pull out your chair for you, even if he doesn’t wait for you to sit to walk around to his own.

“The women these days must think you’re very gallant.” Gallant and grumpy, you think to yourself, smiling again. That is surely how his latest conquests describe him.

He rolls his eyes and huffs as he sits down, watching the movement behind you before he picks up the napkin and drops it in his lap. “Don’t know.” He admits. “I never ask.”

“Not out for romantic companionship in this lifetime?” Even if it’s not marriage, having a companion is always possible.

"I've had one." Pero shrugs slightly. "She wanted kids and I cannot give them to her."

“Cannot or will not?” It is a bold question, you admit, but immortality does not take away a person’s ability to have children. Not as far as you know, anyway.

"It is the same answer." Pero shrugs. "I would not want to watch my child grow old and die. I could not bear it. Not after losing -" He sighs. "It is better that I not populate the earth."

“People like us…we lose everyone eventually.” That is an unavoidable truth, though also undesirable. “I’m sorry for the ones you lost.”

"You have lost others too." He points out, glancing at the waiter when he pours out wine and he lifts a brow. "Come here enough they know what you drink?" He asks you.

“Yes.” There is no shame in that, and you thank the waiter with a smile. “Do you know what you want to eat?” You ask Pero, though neither of you has looked at the menu very much.

"Food." He snorts, and looks around at the other tables as if he can just pick something from their plates that looks good. "What do you get?"

“Either the grilled octopus or the spicy bacalao.” Over the centuries you have tried almost every kind of food possible. Seafood dishes truly are some of your favourites, though. “Or scallops. Really, everything is good here.”

He grunts and nods. “Sounds good.” He does open the menu to read through the options. It’s amusing that when he was riding with William, he could not read, now he reads in multiple languages. Including Chinese. Knowing the language would have been helpful back then.

The waiter departs to give you time to decide, and when he returns a few minutes later you order your usual octopus and Pero opts for a prawns dish that sounded good to him. It leaves you alone together again at your table to look out over the ocean and you sigh happily at the comforting scent of salt air.

You like it here, that is obvious and Pero stares as you unabashedly, curious to your thoughts.

"What is it you want to ask me?" There must be something. You are no longer so insecure that you would be confused as to why a man would stare at you. There is nothing on your face. No food stuck in your teeth. He is simply curious.

“You do not feel it?” Pero asks finally, unable to refrain. “You seem so relaxed.”

"I do feel relaxed," you agree, smiling as the wind wraps around your shoulders. A hug from the earth that you happily appreciate. "People and places come and go, but the wind and the ocean? They are as permanent as we are."

Pero frowns and leans back, unable to understand why you would not feel it. He looks around and sighs before he picks up his wine glass.

"You pout when you don't get your way." The observation makes you hum in amusement. In some ways even this man with his hundreds of years is still very much a boy. "What ought I to be feeling, Tovar?"

“I do not pout.” He grumbles. “You really do not feel the vibration in the air? The pull?” He doesn’t understand it, but he does feel it. He’s drawn to you. “It feels like the air is dancing right now.” It makes him uneasy because the only time he’s ever felt that was when he was in danger but there is no danger here. Confusing him even more.

"Like...electricity." You nod slightly, but tilt your head slightly as you look at him. "I thought that was simply my magic. But if you can feel it too..." Truthfully, you had thought it was your magic's response to your intense attraction to him. But if he can feel it too, it must be much more than that.

“So you do feel it?” He leans in, eyes wide. “It is your magic then? You are that powerful? You pulled me to you?”

"If it is my magic..." Shifting forward in your seat slightly lets you talk a little more freely. Even at a table that is slightly isolated you have lived through too many witch hunts to simply go around shouting about magic. "Then it is doing something I have never felt before."

That makes him frown even more. If you don’t know what it is doing, he has no hope of having the question answered. “If?” He catches that. “What else could it be?”

"Are you sure you want the answer to that?" He will not believe you, you can predict that now. That the other thing you could liken this feeling to is one that was described to you three centuries ago by a couple in the islands of the Caribbean.

He rolls his eyes and purses his lips. “I wouldn’t have asked the question.” He reminds you.

"Fine then." You wave one hand as if to say he asked for it. "I have heard of this sensation once before. Centuries ago. From a pair of soulmates."

Brows pulling together, he takes his time to connect what you are saying. Then the dark orbs are blowing wide and he jerks back to look around quickly again. “You are saying—?”

"It is possible." Anything in the world is possible, after all. Long life has taught you that. "But I do not suggest we go testing the theory by getting into danger."

“What does danger have to do with soulmates?” He asks, frowning again.

"The chance that immortals bonding with their soulmates restores their mortality is...very high," you remind him quietly.

Clarity shines in his eyes and he leans back again. “But we don’t know if that’s what it is.” He hums, picking up his wine again. “We will not test it though.”

"Two meetings do not constitute a connection." And that is all you have had, despite the fact that your vision had stretched over decades and you had dreamt many times of those things your magic revealed to you. "But I agree. We will not test it."

“Soulmates.” He whispers, as if he is trying it on. He looks over at you again and licks his lips. “How would we know? For certain?”

"There are a few tests – magical ones – that could be tried." Their origins all seem dubious to you, or they require ingredients for potions that are unavailable in this new and modern world. They are less than ideal. "Or there is a more...primal test."

“Primal test?” He wonders if it is some kind of blood ceremony or something.

You smirk, hearing in his voice that he expects you to say something deeply mystical or esoteric. "We could have sex," you clarify, pronouncing every syllable.

You are enjoying teasing him. He can tell, but his body is too busy agreeing with your suggestion to care. “We could.” He growls, hands curling on the table as his entire being shifts into something much more dangerous.

"You are interested." It doesn't even need to be a question. His body language makes that clear, and your lips turn up in a smile all over again. "Good."

“You are a beautiful woman.” He reminds you bluntly. “I am old, not dead. My cock still stirs.”

"I'm very glad to hear it." Feeling more confident and looking forward to the night, you shift in your seat to sit a bit taller and survey the man before you unabashedly. "It would be a pity to waste such an enticing man."

It has been a long time since a woman has called him enticing. Instead of preening, like the young boys seem to do now, he lets you look your fill.

"Are you the sort of man who needs to be in your own space?" It is now a negotiation of sorts, but you are happy to be able to study him while you talk and wait for your dinner.

He huffs, amused by that idea, and shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a space that I considered my own.” He points out. “We are both nomads.”

“True. But some people feel the need to exert control wherever possible.” Satisfied that he is not one of those men, you sit back again. “Think of it as asking ‘your place or mine’.”

“Your place.” He decides immediately. “If you want to kick me out, it’s easier.” He doesn’t also say that it will be later in the night and not safe for you to go home alone, not wanting to seem sexist.

“My place.” Your smile is crooked and calm, intrigued and anticipatory. “Good.”

He wonders why that is good, but he shrugs it off, his eyes shifting behind you to see the waiter bringing the food.

You give the waiter warm thanks when your plates are set down, and look back to Pero with interest as the two of you begin to eat. “Tell me a story,” you request, wanting to know more about the man now that you will be spending at least one night together. After all, he has never met anyone like you and you have never met anyone specifically like him. Who else could you share your life stories with in the same way?

Pero frowns slightly and decides that you should hear a story from his original lifeline. "There was this bastard I knew." He begins, the gruffness of his voice is belied by the glimmer of fond remembrance in his eyes. "William Garin. He was a pain in my ass. Getting me into scrapes and saving my ass on the battle field. But I saved his life more." He adds. "He heard about this mystical black powder the Chinese had. And he convinced me to go in search of it. The weapon of our dreams."

Garin is obviously not Spanish, nor is William, and the time spent as a warrior connects dots in your mind. Dots that most in this day and age would find unsavory, but you know better. Survival was harder back then. “You were mercenaries together?”

"Sí." He nods, happy that he does not have to explain every detail to you. "We had fought together for this lord and when he was done with us, we had managed to not kill each other, so we rode together."

“A friend you don’t wish to run through is exceptionally valuable when the sword is already in your hand.” Mercenaries were never long on friendships, as you recall. Which makes it doubly impressive that the men stayed together. “So you went to China together?”

"We collected a group of men." He continues, looking down at the wine and the water at his plate. "All of us desperate for the powder for our own selfish reasons, but we were foolish enough to believe that we could obtain it."

“Fools sometimes have great success,” you point out, sipping from your wine glass. “But I think your luck was not so good, judging from the expression on your face.”

"Twelve of us started out." He nods. "Two of us made it to the Wall."

“The Great Wall?” It is still great today and in nowhere near the splendorous condition that he must have seen it in then.

Pero nods. “Some were killed by bandits, some from disease.” He huffs. “One poor bastard broke his back when his horse fell on him.”

“An unfortunate fate for anyone, bannered soldier or freed lance.” You nod slightly, not wanting to make light of his brethren’s fate but knowing that happened to many.

“The last three died the night before we reached the wall.” He stares at his wine before he takes a large gulp of it. “Eaten by the Tao Tei, though we did not know that at the time. Ripped away from the fire in the blink of an eye while we were resting from running from bandits. Will and I survived together and he took the creatures hand when it had come for us.”

“What became of your brother?” It sounds like he was far more than simply a brother in arms. Pero is likely to have tracked his entire life and legacy.

“When we left the Wall, after the Tao Tei had been defeated, he left his heart behind.” Pero frowns slightly. “After three months, we turned back and he return to his general.”

It’s sweet, or perhaps bittersweet, but you off him a soft smile of understanding. Laced with curiosity, of course. “An unusual love, or an unusual general?” You ask gently.

“She was ferocious.” He chuckles, understanding your meaning and appreciating the tact. “She brought out a side of him I didn’t understand at the time.” He admits. “He was better because of her, the best version of himself.”

“That is what soulmates do, they say.” Satisfied that you haven’t offended him or the memory of his friend, you settle back into your meal. “Did you stay long with them?”

“Until their third child was born.” He hums. “It had become obvious to me that they were aging but for some reason I was not.” He frowns slightly. “I went to a monastery to search for answers and when I returned, my friend was on his deathbed, old and feeble.”

“You were there for his joys and returned to show him your love at the end.” That is honorable. Commendable, even. “That is more than many friends can say they have done.”

“He deserved it.” He shrugs as if it was not much. It was the least he could do in his mind after so many years. “After they were buried together, she had passed the year before, I started my path alone. Never meeting anyone like myself until now.”

"Perhaps it is a sign?" If he even believes in them. As likely as not, he thinks them child’s play.

“Perhaps.” He takes his wine and finishes the rest of it. “It has been a long time since I have seen any signs of anything beyond this existence.”

“I cannot claim to know anything of what lies beyond.” How could you? “But this life is valuable despite being infinite.”

“It is getting harder with technology.” He admits.

“Avoiding being photographed is difficult.” It is a hazard, if you’re honest, which is why you have stayed out of the big cities for decades. “I stay out of cities and tourist traps now. We have to be so careful.”

“Especially with my scar.” He gestures towards his face. “I have thought about surgery but who knows if it would work?”

You consider him carefully for a moment, letting a smirk turn up one corner of your lips. “It might be a pity to lose,” you tell him finally. “The effect is rather dashing.”

His brow lifts, the one affected by the scar and he hums. “You like a more….rugged appearance on a man, hermosa?”

“I do.” And you are old enough and have had enough lovers to know that you do have a preference. “It is not necessary, I would say. But certainly my preference.”

“Then I am pleasing to your eye?” He asks, smirking slightly. He might not be a vain man, but he does enjoy when a woman wants him.

Far be it from you to deny a truth, especially when it is one you have already confirmed. He has let you look your fill during this meal, after all. “I would not be taking you home with me if you were not,” you confirm, and let you smirk grow a little wider.

“Depended on how desperate you might be.” Pero jokes dryly. “Thought I do not believe you have had much trouble warming your bed over the centuries.”

“More than you might think,” you admit, but shrug. “I thank you for the compliment, though.”

“You are a beautiful woman.” He grunts. “Interesting too.”

“More compliments?” Your face blossoms into a teasing, playful grin. “Since I am sure you do not hand them out meaninglessly, I am even more glad.”

“Tell me about yourself.” He asks, wanting to know more about this witch who had known he was somehow coming into your life. “You ever been wrong with your visions?”

“In the early days.” You nod to that, willing to admit that you had needed much training to learn to wield your power effectively. “I have honed my skills. Learned how to tell when things are important. Listened to the way the visions sing to me. I have been wrong before, but not in many centuries.”

He nods. “And you knew that I would come to you, but not exactly when.”

“Because I do not presume to know everything from the visions anymore. Early on, we are so eager to know all. We cannot abide mystery. But now?” You wave one hand dismissively, picking up another forkful of your meal. “The universe will tell me what I am to know when it decides I am ready.”

“It is not like you do not possess the time.” He snorts, finding comfort in your ideology and he picks up his own fork. “Your bread is probably the best I have had in years.” He compliments. “I dreamed of it last night.”

“Is that all you dreamed of?” You doubt it, much to your own amusement, and are not ashamed of what your own dreams have consisted of since meeting the mercenary.

“No.” He admits easily, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his lips. “It was hardly decent.”

“Good.” The way your thighs clench in anticipation is no accident, but all he sees is the pleased expression on your face and perhaps the fire in your eyes. “Then it matched my own.”

“Then tell me what you want.” He demands. “I am sure you have expectations after being here so long and seeing how sex progresses.”

“We have both been here a very long time, Tovar,” you remind him with a wry chuckle. Your meal is finished and your wine as well, so you sit back in your seat and inhale the ocean breeze. “We will take pleasure in each other until we are exhausted, we will sleep curled in the same bed, and when we wake tomorrow we will indulge again if it pleases us to do so.”

“You are very sure of yourself.” He chuckles, not minding the idea of your evening at all. “It is a trait I admire in a woman.”

"If I was certain of myself, I would plan beyond tomorrow morning," you tell him, valuing honesty more than pretense in this moment. The meal is ending and the next steps you take together may change everything. That is what you are unsure of. "But I don't presume to know your mind. Only my own."

“You know it well.” Even though it would not be considered the newer custom of a date, Pero pulls out his wallet to pay for the meal you shared.

It's gentlemanly of him, and after hundreds of years walking this earth you have both accumulated fortune enough to always keep food in your bellies, so you simply thank him for the gesture. You will make him breakfast in the morning before he decides to be on his way, and that will be payment in kind. There is a sort of uncertainty in your bones about how this coupling will turn out – not because you doubt that you will find pleasure but because Tovar seems prone to run from anything he perceives as comfort.

Wiping his mouth one last time, Pero stands and he waits for you to get up as well. “Then let us go find our pleasure with each other.” He offers.

Your home, like everything else in this village, is close enough to walk to. There is no soft sweetness of hand holding or stolen looks, but instead a sort of comfort of knowing what is to come. He walks closer to the street, shielding you from anything that might splash or come too close. When you make it to your door, though, the air of anticipation seems to tighten around both of you and you suddenly become hyper aware of how close he is standing as you turn your key in the lock.

“You can change your mind.” It’s not that he is trying to get you to send him home, but he always prefers to know there is no doubts when he takes a woman to bed.

"I don't want to change my mind." You push open your front door and step back, letting him enter first if he wants to. "You can as well. If that is what you want."

“I would regret it for a thousand years if I left now.” Pero shakes his head and steps into your house.

"Considering we may well live that long, I would hate for you to live with that feeling." You step in behind him and close the door, deciding to throw the lock closed because he is a warrior of many lifetimes and will be on high alert if the house isn't secure.

He hums in approval, sure that after so many years walking this earth you can protect yourself, but no one openly invites the bear into their home. He looks around, finding your private space to be an extension of the bakery you run. Warm and inviting, although he recognizes the antiques that must be collections from your past lives.

"Look around if you like." Shedding your bag and jacket, you don't mind that the space is a little untidy and obviously lived in. This new fascination with making a home look as if no one lives in it is maddening. "Would you like another drink?"

"I am good." He declines as he start to poke around shamelessly. Picking up trinkets and examining them. If he had been the Pero from years ago, he would thinking of stealing from you. Now, he just admires them before setting them back down as he learns more about you from what you keep in your home.

"Do you have a favorite?" As he shuffles through the shelves and collections of keepsakes from your past lives, you smile softly to actually be able to share them with someone who understands.

“Why did you keep this?” The flower is dried, encased in resin and obviously of some importance to you.

"Because I promised the little girl that gave it to me that I would keep it forever." You tell him honestly, stepping into the living room to gaze on the dried wildflower bud. "When the plague came through the village we were in, almost everyone died. She could not have been more than ten years old, but I promised her I would nurse her parents while they died, and she gave me a flower in thanks before her grandmother took her and they fled the village together. The flower was for my kindness, and I took the promise that I made to her very seriously."

“Hopefully the girl had a good life.” It was doubtful, times were hard back then, but it was the best he could hope for anyone.

“Hopefully.” Not having been able to find her later on, you could not say for sure. But she was a sweet little girl and you liked to imagine she found happiness of some sort or other as a woman.

“Your home is very cozy.” The word sounds rough on his tongue, but you don’t seem to mind his gruffness.

"I see no reason not to surround myself with things that bring me joy." You extend your hand, wondering if he will take it and how that will finally feel. You have wondered about his touch for more than a hundred years. "That includes people."

Pero stares at your hand for a moment, then he reaches out. The scars on the back of his hands have faded over the millennia, but he can still see each one. He watches his fingers touch your palm and slide over your skin.

In modern times, they talk about electricity between people. Between a couple coming together. But in the centuries past that spark of new passion was always what happened before an all-consuming fire. The calluses on both of your hands seem to slide over each other with ease, letting your fingers lace together and making your breath catch in a way it hasn't in centuries.

And all at once desire seems to banish every other thought from your mind.

His eyes widen slightly, feeling tug deep in his belly, lighting a hunger in his loins that has long been dormant. Even though he had told himself he would let you control the pace of the night; he is dragging you close. Already obsessed with the next step that you would take. A kiss.

It’s as if you fuse together instantly, that kiss being the mere byproduct of your union into one being. Arms wrap around each other as fiercely tongues entwine, the kiss already deepened into something hungry and exploratory as soon as your lips met.

Once he’s tasted you, Pero is ravenous. Growling as he slides his tongue against yours and holds the back of your head, tilting you like the heroine in a romance novel. The need pouring through him into the flick of his tongue against yours and the groans he is feeding into you.

Every inch of your body is alight with need, and while the fingers of one hand sink into his hair to tug sharply as much as to keep him near, your other hand explores. His frame is even broader than you expected, shoulders and arms thick with corded muscle. You are pliant under every demand of his kiss, returning his moans with enthusiasm even as you start to blindly feel what lies ahead for your pleasure.

He does not know your little house, but he is learning your body. Caressing you with large, sweeping passes over your body. Listening for when your moans intensify. Wanting to memorize what brings you pleasure.

The little cottage only has one floor, though, making it easy to navigate blindly. You could not tear yourself from his embrace now even if you desired it — but the only thing you desire is to bring him with you as you slowly pull your intertwined bodies toward your bedroom.

He lets you guide him. Shuffling with you as you start to pull away. Not wanting there to be any space between you, he follows. Trusting you more than he has anyone in hundreds of years.

Out if the living room, across a small hallway, and through the doorway into your bedroom, you keep hold firm hold of him. Of the countless lovers you have had over the course of your overly-long life, none have set a fire in you that could compare to what you’re feeling right now — and the shocking thought that a soulmate might exist somewhere in the world for you narrows itself into an almost inevitable reality.

He’s never felt like this. Not even when he was a wet behind the ears whelp tumbling into bed with his first whore. The craving he has for you has burrowed under his skin and his fingers reach for the tie to your dress to strip it off your body.

Your hands work just as fast and thoroughly, pulling his sweater over his head despite having to part from him to do so. If you never breathe another breath that did not come from his mouth first, you would live another thousand happy years.

Modern clothing is both a gift and a curse. A gift because there is less of it, a curse because it was easier to just throw a woman’s skirts up and sink into her if she was not wearing drawers. Panties now are alluring but so restrictive. His fingers dig under the band and he shreds them in his haste to rid your body of the barrier between you.

If you felt any sort of restraint whatsoever, you might be amused by his eagerness, but it matches your own. It matches how frustrated you are to have to tear through the shirt under his sweater just to get to bare skin, then the belt and sticky zipper on his trousers to get to what you're craving. His cock is hard as stone – as desperately hard as you are wet – and you moan with a measure of uninhibited relief when you slip your hand inside his pants to discover he isn't wearing any sort of underwear. One less layer to have to tear off of him.

He would chuckle if he could breathe, but that is beyond him right now. Groaning when your fingers wrap around him, he bucks his hips forward and only takes his hands off you to strip down his pants and kick them off with his shoes.

Your bra is the last thing tossed aside, and you sigh into the feeling of his calloused hands kneading your flesh. He has made no mistake about appreciating a woman with curves, and in this moment you have never been more grateful for them. Any additional patch of skin for him to touch is worth praising.

"Beautiful." He growls, cupping and squeezing your tits, appreciating the lushness of your curves and the way you fit into his hands. It's as if you were created to slot into him perfectly.

“Enough to keep your hands full?” You huff a breathy laugh, already knowing the answer.

“You could be a little plumper.” Pero snorts, never denying a thicker figure is sexy. Back when he was younger; that meant you were well fed.

You grin, laughing with him, and tug him toward your bed without shame. “Then it is a good thing I am a baker.”

“Does that mean your cunt is sweet?” He teases, reaching out to brace his arms so he doesn’t collapse on you when you both fall into the bed. “Tastes like honey?”

“You’ll have to tell me.” The blankets are pushed aside immediately, letting you both tumble onto the mattress eagerly. “For the sake of your sweet tooth, I hope so.”

He flashes a predatory grin, eyes dark and full of mischief as he bites your chin. "Then let me have a taste."

"As much as you like," you assure him, sliding back to lie down amongst your pillows. "Until we are both satisfied."

He hums and attacks your mouth again, intoxicated by the taste of your lips and sure that the rest of you is equally addicting.

Every inch of you is plied with those hungry kisses. From your lips and jaw down the length of your neck, paying tribute at the temple of your breasts and growling into the soft flesh of your belly as he makes his way down. No detail is spared his voracious attention. No scar missed. No stretch mark unadored.

You are exquisite. A map of time, of experience. Random scars that have faded to non-existence. A lesser man wouldn’t even notice them, except Pero wears the same faded marks on his body. His tongue and teeth worship them until he has bitten each of your thighs and his shoulders are wedged between them, inhaling the musky, tangy scent of your sex like it’s a stimulant.

"I will go and get the honey jar if it will get your tongue inside me faster," you gripe, smirking at him even as your thighs bracket his head and his breath wafts over your cunt.

“Impatient witch.” Pero huffs, frowning so he doesn’t laugh. But he takes your lead and buries his tongue deep inside your walls, his prominent nose pressed against your clit.

"I will not apologize," you groan, sinking further into your mattress with a keening sound of bliss as he dives in with enthusiasm.

He wouldn’t expect you to. You are too brash for untruths. You are impatient and he groans into your folds as he sets about learning what makes your thighs quiver about his ears. It’s been years since he’s eaten a cunt with this much enthusiasm and he wants to prove that he can make you squeal.

Your fingers find his curls, tangling in the long strands and encouraging him to seek the deepest parts of you. It bows your back and makes your skin tingle, and you anchor yourself to him as he begins to build you up in pleasure right away. Every stroke of his tongue is magic, and you have experienced enough magic in your life to know that sensation deeply.

You respond so beautifully to him. Synchronizing your moans to the flick of his tongue or the nudge of his nose. Urging him on with breathless chants of pleasure that have him aching against the sheets he is grinding down against.

The pleasure is almost blinding, taking over all of your senses so that you forget everything in the world beyond him. His name is the only one one your lips, barely joined by breathless praises. A thousand lifetimes of practice have made him a skilled lover and you are glad to reap those rewards tonight.

You melt into him. Your cunt is better than honey but he laps at you continuously. Sampling the sweet nectar and pulling the gorgeous sounds out of you with a glee that is bordering on smug.

Time is as liquid as your body by the time you fall apart for him. All you know is that your world has narrowed to the man between your legs and that this is what you want more than anything in the world. You sob his name as he drinks down your release, fingers twisted both in his hair and in the bedsheets. The unapologetic ringing of bliss through the walls of your house seem to reverberate back to you, as if knowing that this pleasure should not be shared with anyone else.

Watching you shake apart is a privilege. One that he is determined to have. Again he curls his tongue around your clit to help you extend the fluttering of your walls. Obsessed with the way that you sob his name.

A satisfied sigh passes your lips when you can finally breathe again, and you open your eyes to find him staring hungrily up at you with his cheek resting on your thigh.

“Did I satisfy you?” He’s smug, because he knows he did, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Better than I expected you to," you promise him, not at all upset with how satisfied with himself he looks. He should be that satisfied. You certainly are. But you still shoot a grin back at him. "Now do it again. With your cock this time."

He snorts, taking the backhanded compliment and he leans in to nip your hip and starting to untangle his shoulders from your legs to crawl up your body.

"You wouldn't like a girl who fawned over you." That part of his personality is abundantly clear. Praise is good, but honest praise. Not when it is empty. "But I knew from the way you devoured me with your eyes at dinner that you could do it with your mouth, too."

He grunts, placated by your answer and his lips find yours again as he slides into your arms and wraps his arms around your back.

You’ll take the kiss as confirmation. As an agreement that you have learned him well in a very small space of time. And that is all you need to deliver the measure of passion back to him twofold.

You fit together so naturally. So easily. His body slots against yours with no discomfort, no need to adjust. His cock is pressed against your entrance and all he has to do is push forward to sink into you.

Gasping in unison, the sharp intake of breath turns to a shared, shuddering moan as he pushes inside you. Your arms wrap tight around him just as his hold you close, and the seemingly endless moment of just being joined is better than you ever remember feeling with any man before.

It’s not that it has been so long since Pero has filled a woman that has him groaning your name. It’s how perfect you feel. Transcending beyond physical into something almost primal, like you are his.

One long, breathless moment of amusement is needed before you search out his lips again, nipping the lower one and squeezing your cunt around his cock to spur him into moving. This blissful elation has mountains to climb before the night is over.

He grunts, twitching inside you because of your boldness. He likes a feisty woman, especially in bed. One that demands that her needs be met and met well. He pushes even deeper before he is dragging his cock back out, making sure that your walls feel him retreating to anticipate the next commanding thrust.

The rhythm you build together is damn near athletic with the amount of push and pull you give. Not quite right but all the way to the edge of wondering whether your creaking bed will give out before you decide you don’t care. He would be worth the collapsed furniture, this rough-hewn warrior with his heart of golden softness. And you wonder, in between moaning his name into the darkness, whether anyone has ever told him that before.

The mattress undeath you doesn't give him the leverage that he wants, that he needs to snap his hips forward and pull another beautiful cry from those lips of yours. Obsessed with how you take every demanding thrust and still seek more, he reaches up and grabs the headboard for better purchase. Growling your name while he rocks into you. "Fuck, you are perfect, bruja, taking my cock and begging for more. I'll give you everything you want and more." He pants, almost breathless, but determined to keep the brutal pace up. He had fought in hand to hand combat for hours, he can make you cum before he collapses in exhaustion.

Some lovers are sensuous, some are tender, some are eager or greedy. Pero matches the way you feel in this moment — the unbridled surety of what your want and need and crave — without question and with great enthusiasm. He is as hungry for a partner to be unrestrained with as you are. To find someone with whom you can remove your mask. The wet noise of slapping hips and growling of praise fills your senses like a drug and all you can think is how you want more.

Every thrust feels like he’s going to impale you. Hurt you. Your legs wrapped around his waist feel like they are the only thing keeping him from fucking up into your throat and still you cry for him. It’s the most beautiful, greedy sounds he’s ever heard and he wants more of them ringing in his ears. His lips kiss and his teeth bite along your neck, your jaw while he huffs and puffs, grunting his own pleasure into your skin.

Too much, not enough, absolutely perfect, overwhelming, and yet the most unbridled you’ve ever felt. It is everything. The first time you come apart for him it is like the explosion that heralds the beginning of a new world, tearing you apart from the inside out but only granting you a new and vital life force. Pero ends up on his back beneath you, trading places so that he can watch you ride him with greedy eyes and explore your body with calloused hands as you take more pleasure from him.

You are a witch. You’ve bewitched him. In awe of the sight of you, tits bouncing, head thrown back, you ride him like you are riding a horse across the desert. Every time you slam back down in his cock, his toes curls and his body lurches in pleasure under you. Hands filling with every inch of your flesh he can possess, growling and moaning like he is in pain, but it is pure pleasure bleeding those sounds from him.

It’s sunrise before you’re done with each other, collapsing into a pile of satisfied bodies and damp sheets. One of the best fringe benefits of immortality is the stamina and you fully abused that tonight.

“You have to work?” He asks, panting as he runs his hand down your sweaty spine and smirking tiredly when you shiver in response.

“I’m closed today.” You chuckle, breathy and light, deciding that taking a single day off from running the bakery won’t make a difference to the village. “There are more fun things to do at home.”

He chuckles. “Sí? Like what, bruja? Casting more spells over me?”

“Sí.” Laughing together, you hold him a little tighter, as though a whisper told you he might slip away. “Claro. Of course I will.”

He hums after a moment. “I have never felt that strongly before.” He admits after letting the silence settle between you and your breaths have slowed down. “That connected. Did you feel it too?”

“I did.” A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips. “I do feel it. Perhaps it is as they say.”

“Soulmates?” His eyes widen when he puts it together and his fingers twitch against the curve of your ass where he had been idly caressing. “You believe that is what we are?”

“Perhaps.” Your lips find his, brushing a reassuring kiss there while you still smile. “There is only one way to be certain.”

“How?” He kisses you back before he frowns slightly.

“Sleep, hermoso.” When he looks surprised you only laugh sweetly. “Sleep. And your bruja will cast into the shadows after some rest.”

“As long as you sleep with me.” Pero grunts, pulling you close again and closing his eyes even as the room becomes brighter with the coming day.

******

The sound of the cock crowing penetrates Pero’s sleep, making him grunt and curl around you a bit more as if to protect you from the coming day. “Too early.” He grumbles, although he knows that you must wake, pressing his lips to the warm skin of your neck where his face has been buried through the night.

“Ignore it.” You grumble back, shifting backward in a sleepy shuffle to burrow closer to him under the heavy wool blanket. You’ve only half woken up but you don’t want to leave this bed.

He grunts in agreement, holding you tight and his cock twitches when you press your ass against his crotch.

“Ready for more already, mi caballero?” Not that you’re surprised — you’re ready for him again too. You dreamt about it.

“Sí.” He growls quietly. “Your cunt is too good not to be craving every chance I get.”

"One night and you are already addicted?" You chuckle from somewhere low in your chest and roll over to face him, only to sit straight up in bed when you finally open your eyes.

Pero frowns slightly, feeling the rush of cool air when you pull the warmth of your body and the covers away from him. "Lay down."

"Pero." With your eyes darting around the room, you start to twist and look in every direction, turning a little more frantic with every change of direction. "Pero, look!"

He grunts, opening an eye cautiously and then he is opening the other, sitting up in the bed with a frown. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Flanders.” You practically gasp out the word, looking around in shock. “In a cottage on the river outside Gent…” Practically springing from the bed, you reach for the nearest blanket to wrap around yourself and go to the window.

The garden and meadow behind your little cottage look brighter and sweeter than you remember, but very much the same. It has been hundreds of years since you lived in the Flemish countryside yet here you are.

Swallowing a sharp gasp, you turn back from the color-stained glass window. “When do you say you were from?” You demand. “Originally, I mean?”

Pero frowns as he follows you, not bothering to find his breeches and he looks out the wavy glass. You must have been very well established to have glass. He tells you the year. “Why?”

You swallow thickly, disbelief coloring your features and all you can do is choke out a laugh. “Pero, look around you. We were in an entirely different cottage when we fell asleep.”

“I can see that.” He huffs. “I’m asking why you wanted to know what years I was originally walking through life.”

“Because…” You can feel your heartbeat pounding, adrenaline beating in your veins. “Because in your first walk of this earth, I was living here.”

He frowns, brow pinching together in thought. “Where are we?” He demands, thinking back to that time.

“Flanders. The country. I was already baking then…there is a tavern down the road where I made bread and cooked suppers and helped keep guests.” The awe and confusion on your face are so deeply etched into your skin that it feels like they go all the way into your bones. “For two immortals we should not be so cods walloped by the notion of time travel.”

“Because I have never woken up in a time different from which I fell asleep.” He reasons. “I was supposed to travel to Flanders.” He whispers. “After I left the wall. That was mine and Garin’s plan.”

“You were?” You wrap the blanket around yourself a little more tightly at this surprising news, as if it might bring on more unknown magic.

“Sí.” He frowns as he peers out the window at the sleepy little scene in front of him. It’s almost jarring, how quiet this time actually was. There is none of the low frequency noises that he had grown used to hearing in the modern world.

“I wonder…”

“Wonder?” He turns back to you, watching you as you contemplate this newest development in your lives. “What are you thinking, cariño?”

The term of endearment does not escape you, but rather it almost seems to confirm the thought that has cropped up in your mind. “I wonder if there is something in soulmates…being people who were supposed to meet?”

Pero, despite his humble beginnings at this time in history, is not stupid and he understands what you are saying. “So we have been brought back to the time we were supposed to meet and understand our connection?” He theorizes and looks around the cottage again. “You were unwed at this time?”

He has followed your train of thought exactly and you nod. “I was. When I came to this village, I presented myself as a widow. There was more freedom in it.”

“And I was to come and spend the winter here.” Pero muses. “A sexy widow would have been a very appealing way to spend the winter.”

"I would have welcomed you." He is as to your taste after hundreds of years as he would have been then, and you would have let him into your bed without hesitation. "We would have kept very warm that winter."

He chuckles and leans over, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. "Overheated." He promises. "Do you think we are here to stay?" He asks.

"It seems likely." Though you do frown, trying to think through the logistics in your mind. "We could travel. Make our way east. You could see your friend again."

"Does-- does this mean we are no longer immortal?" Pero asks, looking down at his hands and body. "Or does this mean we live these times again together?"

"I don't know." You murmur softly, placing your hands over his and gently squeezing. "But we will find out. Together."

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[paper-mario-wiki]

PLEASE share the pancake recipe!!!

ingredients (eyeballed measurements, you can do this):

pancake mix (buttermilk mix bought from farmer Bob who has a corn maze outside of seattle)

milk

1 or 2 egg whites per serving (you can determine what that means, i trust your judgement)

i preheat my stove to a little over medium. like in the 5-7 range.

pour the milk into the buttermilk mix until it's like, as thick as a smoothie. it doesnt have to be perfectly smooth, and actually wouldn't benefit from it either.

crack an egg but open it upward so that the contents dont spill out. then, over the bowl, pour the yolk back and forth between the two pieces of shell. after a few times, the yolk will separate from the whites, which will fall out and into the bowl.

then you feed the yolk to Scarlet, my dog, with her breakfast kibble.

i whip the egg whites in a cereal bowl with a fork. the whole point of whipping the whites is to trap air in them, until they basically turn into a foam. keep that in mind while you're mixing, and try to trap air in the mixture. imagine you're a taffy puller. ya know, pulling taffy. same principle. use the arm you jerk off with, as it's probably stronger and has the same basic muscle memory for this task.

after they're nice n foamy, add them to the batter, but don't mix or whip it in. as much as you can, gently fold the two concoctions together. you don't wanna pop all those bubbles you just made.

i like to hold a stick of butter and draw all over the pan to coat it in a semi-generous amount of butter, which will make the skin super crispy as it sorta fries in it.

the old "wait until the bubbles on the back of the pancake pop to flip it" rule doesnt really work here, since the thing is basically gonna be bubbling and foaming and popping IMMEDIATELY, so INSTEAD:

wait until the batter is only 40% shiny on top, as a lot of the pancake is going to cook through very quick since the batter is basically a dense network of very thin bubble walls.

after flipping, give it about 70% of the time you gave it on the first side to properly finish up the bottom.

i suggest pairing with bacon and hashbrowns.

[honeytonedhottie]

extra self care routine⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍦

this 8 step self care routine is meant to be super DUPER over the top but its intended more so to make u feel like the goddess that u are and to simply pamper, and spoil urself as u should...plus you'll smell like a cupcake after 🎀

warning, LONG post ahead but thats because i tried to be thorough and clear on the steps of this 8-step routine.✨🧁

STEP ONE ; ICING UR FACE

the benefits of facial icing include more radiant skin, helps with spider lines, and blemish control. if u wanna know more about icing ur face i recommend u read this.

but typically you'll fill up a bowl with some water and ice and dunk ur face in the ice in 60 second intervals (thats how i like to do it) or you take an ice cube and run that on ur skin.

STEP TWO ; OILING UR HAIR

i personally dont recommend oiling ur hair overnight, once u apply ur hair oil into ur hair let it sit for 30 minutes - 4 hours depending on how much time u have on ur hands, but if ur gonna do the 8 step self care ritual i would assume u had some time.

use the scalp massaging tool for blood flow to ur head and MASSAGE. imagine all of ur stress seeping out of ur body. it might sound strange, but when im doing this step i imagine myself rearranging and organizing my thoughts 💀.

while ur doing this whole routine i recommend playing an affirmation tape in the background, or ur favorite playlist. 🧁

STEP THREE ; MASKS

next i'll use a spray bottle and wet my hair before going in with my hair mask, and once thats in ur hair use the claw clip to keep ur hair up and out of ur face.

now its time for the facial mask and i recommend keeping kind of an ARSENAL of masks, whether its a liquid or clay mask or sheet masks just have them on u because i usually do face masks of any sort 1-2 times a week for my LUSTROUS glow.

while u have the hair and face masks in, its a good time to do some dry brushing to remove dead skin cells and improve blood circulation. some other masks that u can do to be EXTRA are lip masks and under eye masks.

STEP FOUR ; IN THE SHOWER

wash ur hair as you would usually do, use the body scrub before using a body wash that has similar tones to the body scrub (this is called scent layering) and while in the shower i recommend to do a shower meditation.

if y'all r interested i'll make a shower meditation guide and u can record ur own voice doing the meditation so u can use it ✨

while ur in the shower make sure to be meticulous and take ur time while u wash ur body. do double cleansing so that u can ensure that you're squeaky clean.

now is also the time to shave if u like to do that and remember use a body scrub BEFORE u shave and once ur out of the shower to use a body oil to prevent ingrowns and to just have a smoother shave in general.

STEP FIVE ; OUT OF THE SHOWER

use ur body oil and ur body lotion, this kind of goes along with the before bed slugging notion which gives the SOFTEST most amazing skin in the morning so i highly recommend it.

HOT TIP FROM HONEY ; using a warmed up towel adds to the whole spa experience so i def recommend that, warming up towels/blankets/robes makes me feel so cozy and toasty 🧋✨

the formula for before bed slugging is (body oil + body lotion + a thick body butter/cream)

STEP SIX ; REPAIR AND REPLENISH

once your out of the shower and you’ve slugged ur body, use a leave in conditioner to repair and soothe damaged hair.

use a face milk

cuticle oil

now’s the time to use pimple patches

and things of that nature in general

this ensures that ur being absolutely meticulous and replenishing ur body the proper way. taking care of ur base so that u can make it absolutely GLOW ✨

STEP SEVEN ; FACIAL MASSAGE

use a gua sha and any other facial massage tools to help blood circulation and just be EXTRA. to sculpt ur face like the goddess you are.

facial massage stimulates blood circulation, promoting oxygen flow and nutrient delivery to the skin cells. facial massage helps to release the tension held in the facial muscles, alleviating stress lines and promoting a more youthful appearance.

AND if ur consistent with facial massage, you'll can enhance skin elasticity AND diminish fine lines.

STEP EIGHT ; YOGA AND STRETCHES

nothing feels better then massaging and stretching stiff limbs, especially if u have pains or aches in ur body. look up a follow along, super light, yoga routine or a stretching routine.

i think that a rly good stretch is the perfect way to end ur super duper over the top 8 step self care routine 💗🎀

[borgevino]

i have been doing some light experimentation this winter with miso and gochujang and i can tell you now they are two of the best substances on this green earth. a quick list of ways i have used them so far:

spoonful of each in the broth where you cook the ramen (big for miso, small for gochujang), along with half the flavor packet and a 7-minute hard boiled egg

teeny tiny amount of gochujang (like, 1/4tsp per cup max) in hot chocolate to add richness, depth, and spice

miso in the water where you cook the red lentils, combined with a can of butternut squash soup and a can of coconut milk, big heaping spoonful of gochujang for warmth and heat

2tbsp brown sugar, 1tbsp melted butter, 1tbsp gochujang; mixture swirled into sugar cookie dough (this is from a nyt cooking recipe by eric kim) or whatever other baked goods could benefit from a little kick.

pal of mine mentioned maple syrup + gochujang as a condiment, which would be spectacular on many roasted veggies (carrots, brussels sprouts, potatoes, beets, etc), or as a ham glaze, or on fried chicken (fried chicken & cornmeal waffles with maple-gochujang sounds completely incredible)

my budget is tighter than usual this winter and i can tell you that having gochujang and miso to play with is really bringing joy to what would otherwise be a season of mac & cheese, ramen, very basic soups, etc.

[penisbutterjellytime]

Got bored n made anotha RDR oc, a few months or so ago, for funsies

The border Collie is one of the few she kept from the family dogs litter.

text in the first pic ⬇️

Minerva "Minnie" Acherman A small farm girl. Worked a lot in the fields and did a lot of physical chores when she was younger (field work, milking cows, digging, churning butter, washing / laundry, some building, etc.) so she can lift a considerably large amount of weight with no sweat. Picking people up bridal style or by piggy back, man or women for a few minutes is a party trick she does often. When in camp, she is often seen doing chores like cutting firewood or helping Pearson skin animals or pick up bags, and other such physically laborious tasks as that's what's shes used to and lets her go on autopilot. Joined Van Der Gang through a series of shitty events. Her Grandparents dying, Then her dad, The farm being confiscated, She hopped from working farm to farm, maybe a factory job or two, building, etc. Any job that needed muscles and would take her, she took it. With her farming background blood, guts, and gore, isn't that unsettling for her as her father showed her the the slaughtering process as well as how to protect the cattle from predators, animal or human. Loves to talk, can't shut up when she starts, but tends too keep her mouth shut as she can be a bit blunt for the average person. She may look busy and hyper-focused on a task when attempting to talk to her, but I promise that she is as equally attentive, maybe more, to the conversation as she would be if she was sitting down. May be a negative to her social skills but a benefit for the gang as she can easily eaves drop on conversations, who don't believe anyone's listening. friends/friendly with: The girls; Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen (Around the same ages + She's enjoys the gossip, theorizing, and shit talk, also enjoys seeing Mary-Beth get excited and explain the plots and twists in the stories she's reading / writing herself ), Kieran (The camps horsegirl ... self explanatory. For some reason reminds her of a kitten the families Barn cat had, would be picking him up by the scruff if she could), Pearson (reminds her of a mix of her dad and grandpa, even if it's just a little bit), oh yeah and the chickens (self explanatory).

[seththemusehub]

old post was getting long and cluttered, so I'm making a new one.

hi, I'm Seth. I am disabled, poor, and kinda starving. have been waiting on disability to be approved for four whole ass years at this point, and I don't know that it's going to change anytime soon.

I had to spend a third of my normal food budget (I get SNAP benefits) on nutritional supplement drinks because I recently had oral surgery to remove the remainder of my teeth, and this has basically set me on soft foods until my dentist will make the appointment for me to get dentures in October. my doctor was concerned I would struggle to get enough vitamins and whatnot, so she prescribed the supplements, but my insurance was like 'hm, nah, I don't think so. not covering that.'

I'm out of, like. everything. no milk, bread, cheese, eggs, pasta, cans of soup, butter, just...I got nothing I can eat. so I'm doing the thing I love doing so much [sarcasm!] and asking online for help. if you can spare a couple bucks, I would super appreciate the assistance.

my paypal has my deadname on it, so uh. y'know. pretend it's different. cover your eyes or something, I dunno.

paypal.me/seththemuse

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 32: Oliver's New Life

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control

Oliver woke up slowly.

He was somewhere comfortable, extremely so, and he was deeply content to curl up on his side and wrap himself in silk sheets, dipping in and out of sleep. He spent a long time in that half-awake, dreamy state before finally waking up fully.

Oliver found himself in the middle of a huge, cloud-soft bed, surrounded by pillows and wrapped in fine sheets and blankets. Indirect sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the curtains, allowing him to see just enough of the room to remember where he was. 

Alexander's home. His bedroom, in Alexander's home.

The first day with his new Master.

Instinctively, his hand flew to his neck and felt around. There were no scars, no bandages, no soreness. Master hadn't taken his blood yet, and he felt an odd swirl of relief and disappointment. He had said that he would give Oliver time to settle, so it was still coming, no doubt. But the vague notion that perhaps his blood wasn't pleasing to Master... 

But no, that thought was quelled as soon as it troubled him. His Master wanted him. Oliver had felt it so clearly, and even now the thought filled him with comfort. He was wanted here.

With his mind calmed, he yawned and stretched, enjoying the comfortable bedding. He'd slept like a log, and from the ancient looking pendulum clock on the wall, he could see that it was now 3pm. He'd slept most of the night and day away, which he probably needed after all that upheaval in his life.

That upheaval was over now that he was finally in his Master's home. 

His stomach growled, an angry reminder that he hadn't really eaten anything since breakfast last night (he was still unsure what to call his meals now that he was mostly nocturnal, but that would have to do). Alexander did say he had free reign of the kitchen, so he'd best put that to good use. 

First, though, he stood up and went to the window, pushing the curtains open to reveal a sunny afternoon, the sun only just dipping below the buildings. He squinted and flinched away from the light, realizing that it was the first sun he'd seen since he'd been abducted. He hadn't even realize how he'd missed the warmth of sunlight.

His room overlooked an ordinary city street, with pedestrians milling by on the tree-lined sidewalks. He recognized it as the most wealthy part of downtown, an area where he didn't usually have much cause to visit. It wasn't all that far from his bookshop, a leisurely twenty minute walk at most.

How strange to think that he'd lived so close to a vampire lord's manor all those years. How strange to think that his former life was so close and yet separated by so much. How strange to think that just a few weeks ago, he had no idea any of this world existed.

His Master had apparently not erased his memories, just as he'd said, because Oliver was having no trouble recalling his bookshop or his former life. Who could say what other alterations Master had made while he was under? He felt so much calmer and more contented than he had the day before, so surely it was for his benefit.

He turned from the window and padded down the stairs. The house was deathly quiet, and he assumed that the other occupant was not yet awake. When he arrived in the kitchen, he opened the window there to get some more sunlight, hoping that it wouldn't disturb Master too much -- he didn't know how sunlight might affect him, but he guessed it wasn't pleasant. For now, it helped the kitchen to feel more cheerful and human while Oliver assessed the food situation.

There was the basket of fruit on the counter that he'd noticed yesterday, as well as a loaf of bread beside -- a good start. The pantry was sparse, but held a few ordinary staples, flour and sugar and salt and potatoes and carrots, as well as some canned vegetables and beans. The largest bounty was in the ice box: eggs, milk, cheese, butter, some paper packets from the butcher's that he'd have to open and identify later, perhaps when it was time to make dinner.

There were also a few glass bottles of what was unmistakably blood. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight. They were labeled "Moonlight Farm, Fancy Grade A". So there were places dedicated to farming what he could only assume was human blood. It made perfect sense -- how else would Alexander have kept himself alive without a thrall? --  but it was still repulsive. He didn't want to think about those humans in the blood farms, no doubt utterly mind wiped and treated like cattle.

Maybe Joe was there, maybe the waitress who had been in the cell next to Emily's. They'd had their minds erased, after all, and had been sold at auction. He felt guilty that he was safe and comfortable in a well-appointed kitchen deciding what to cook, while other innocent humans had probably been turned into little more than mindless dairy cows, tossed into pens and used for their blood for the rest of their miserable lives. It obviously wasn't his fault, and there wasn't anything he could have reasonably done about it, but it was upsetting all the same. The only thing that had stood between him and their fate was some intangible quality of his blood.

He'd feel better about everything once he ate, he was sure.

Since late afternoon was apparently now his breakfast time, he pulled out eggs and cheese, located a frying pan, and began to make an omelette. Starving as he was, he used four eggs, and once he was done making them, used the pan to toast some of the bread. He couldn't find any jam, but butter would do fine. An apple and a glass of milk completed his generous breakfast. Master said he'd have any groceries he needed, and the way he'd been treated in the auction house cells made it clear that vampires preferred their humans to be well fed, so there was no reason to hold back on eating his fill.

As he washed the dishes in the sink, he reflected that he wasn't just eating for himself now, but also eating to feed his new master. A strange thought.

He was still wearing the dress he'd arrived in from the auction house, and as eager as he was to return to the library, that luxurious bathroom was calling for him. Exiting the kitchen, he spared a look towards the front door.

Unlike the auction house, there were no vampire guards here to stop him. Alexander was likely still asleep upstairs. But the thought of even trying the door repulsed him, filling him with sick dread. As if he wanted to betray his new Master by leaving without permission!

Oliver turned and headed up the stairs to his bedroom, looking in the wardrobe. As promised, there was an assortment of outfits there -- more than he had previously owned. There were various frocks with wide necks, but also button-down shirts and slacks, a few casual suits, and an expensive-looking lined wool coat paired with a cheerful red scarf. This, at least, served as proof that Master intended to take him out of the confines of the manor sometimes. The nearby drawers held pajamas and soft cotton underthings. Satisfied at the selection of clothing, he took a cotton robe and headed for the bathroom.

He was clean enough, since he'd been allowed regular bathing at the auction house and in Miss Lily's care, but a nice hot bath was just what he needed to wash away any remnants of anxiety. He turned on the hot water and dumped in a generous helping of floral-scented soap flakes, making the bathroom smell heavenly.

Sinking in the warm water up to his shoulders was like a dream. And he had nowhere to be. He could relax in the bath as long as he felt like. And once he had his fill of that, he could head down to the library and read to his heart's content.

He realized that the foreign feeling washing over him was relief.

He'd spent so much of his life anxious and afraid, quietly terrified of not living up to a father who was long since dead. He used all of his time trying to keep his beloved bookstore afloat, fretting about money and maintenance and pleasing every patron who walked through the door. Second guessing every decision, watching from afar as others found love and excitement.

And now none of that mattered, because he'd found his place, hadn't he? Or rather, his place had found him, and it was bringing up a deep, buried longing to be cared for that he didn't even realize he had. His Master would take care of him and quiet his mind, and all he had to do was offer up his loyalty and his blood. A small price to pay, wasn't it?

He made sure his neck was extra clean, and used some of the sweet-smelling lotion that had been left in a basket for him. He wanted to please.

He could do this. He could be enticing to his master. And he'd be rewarded.

Returning to his bedroom, he slipped on a soft flannel frock, choosing a garment that would keep his neck exposed with no hesitation. He then padded downstairs to enter the library and await his Master waking.

He'd barely gotten a chance to look at the library yesterday, and Oliver was stunned all over again at the amount of books. He decided to occupy himself just browsing the shelves, not picking any one book to read yet. There would no doubt be plenty of time, and for now, he was fascinated by the many different subjects on display. 

There were shelves of ordinary fiction books, of course, albeit stocked with antique and rare editions of classics that would have filled Oliver with envy if he didn't have full access to them himself now. Near the shelves of books he recognized, there was another large section that he realized must consist of fiction written by vampires, the titles and authors all unknown to him. The preoccupation with blood above all other things was apparent just by reading the titles. Did the need for blood consume them so much? He supposed it must, if they were willing to pay such vast sums for thralls.

The section on vampire history that he had perused before was flanked by sections covering the histories of witches, werewolves, vampire hunters, faefolk, and a particularly extensive collection of books on merfolk. There was surprisingly little human history, and nothing more recent than the turn of the century. Vampires, perhaps, didn't concern themselves that much with human history.

He felt himself strangely drawn to a particular shelf further towards the back of the library. Half the books were bound in richly colored leather, embossed with gold and silver and embedded with jewels, and the other half were so tattered and worn that Oliver wouldn't dare try to pick them up. He flipped through one, and realized with surprise what they were. Spellbooks. Magic. And no reason to doubt now that it was real.

The sound of footsteps behind him startled him out of his reverie. "Hey. Evening."

He whipped around to see his Master there, hair and shirt disheveled, sleepy-eyed but looking at Oliver as though he were the only thing he had ever desired. A smile spread slowly across Alexander's face, and Oliver felt like his heart might stop.

Part 31 >> Masterlist >> Part 33

Role Reversal AU Part One

Next time, Oliver finally gets bitten.

Extras: Emily's Crayons || Fitz in the Snow || Fitz's Volunteer Part One

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity

[kittysdiary]

my daily cheetahlicious beauty routine 🐆🎀:

skincare 🌸:

cleanser ~ cerave normal to dry skin cleanser

exfoliant ~ the ordinary aha + bha exfoliating peel (use 2x a week please!)

moisturizer ~ cerave daily moisturizing lotion

correction products ~ cerave eye cream + good molecules discoloration correcting serum

sunscreen ~ coola refreshing water cream

devices ~ vanity planet aira ionic facial steamer (in the color rose gold ofc) + farrence led light skin care machine

makeup 🌸:

primer ~ urban decay all nighter

foundation ~ fenty beauty pro flit’r

concealer ~ fenty beauty pro filt’r instant retouch

setting powder ~ fenty beauty pro filt’r instant retouch powder or laura mercier loose setting powder

blush ~ nars orgasm x + nars deep throat blush

bronzer ~ benefit cosmetics hoola bronzer

highlighter ~ benefit cosmetics tickle highlighter

mascara ~ too face better than sex mascara

eyeliner ~ nyx epic ink liner, too face better than sex liner

eyeshadow ~ too face, colourpop + morphe eyeshadow palettes

eye glitter ~ stilla

brows ~ anastasia beverly hills brow freeze

lashes ~ kiss lashes in sassy hybrid, lilly lashes in miami + lashy box -> cas cosmetic lashes in amethyst (used in photo but the style amethyst is no longer being sold but i luv the brand though for 25mm lashes! 💗)

lips ~ fenty beauty gloss bomb, nyx butter gloss + too face lip injection gloss

setting spray - urban decay all nighter setting spray

tools ~ morphe makeup brushes + beauty sponge

hair 🌸:

shampoo ~ design essentials milk and honey

conditioner ~ design essentials milk and honey

leave in conditioner ~ design essentials bamboo silk, design essentials almond and avocado detangling conditioner

hair mask ~ design essentials almond and avocado deep moisture mask

hair oil ~ design essentials silk essential oil

hair gel ~ eco styling gel

tools ~ detangling brush, denman brush, edge brush, blow dryer diffuser + at home hood dryer

(shower caps, silk head wraps/bonnets + silk pillowcases xoxo!)

[loominggaia]

GREENHEARSTIAN CUISINE

(This time we are learning about the traditional cuisine of Greenhearst, hometown of Evan Atlas!)

OVERVIEW

Greenhearst is often called “Evangeline’s breadbasket” because most of the kingdom’s grains are grown here. But Greenhearstians farm a wide variety of other crops too, most notably apples, potatoes, and squashes. This territory exports a lot of locally-made beers and ciders all over the world, so peoples far and wide can get a taste of Greenhearst. Many of Evangeline Kingdom’s favorite recipes originate from here, and they are…

BAKED APPLE

The baked apple is a versatile food that can be eaten any time, depending on the ingredients used. It is simply an apple that has been cored and baked until soft. If eaten for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, it is stuffed with brown sugar and minced beef or squash. If eaten for dessert, it is instead stuffed with cream cheese or pudding. It is often flavored with cinnamon.

PUMPKIN PORRIDGE

Pumpkin season is an exciting time for Greenhearstians, as they love to eat pumpkin porridge for breakfast. It is made by mixing cornmeal with pureed pumpkins and tomatoes, then it is usually flavored further with cinnamon and nutmeg. It is full of fiber and vitamins, making it popular with elderly people in particular. Children and the sickly also benefit from eating this food. Greenhearstians even feed pumpkin porridge to their sick livestock to perk them up, and they swear by its miraculous results.

BEEF LOAF

This is a typical lunch or dinner item in Greenhearst, traditionally served alongside mashed potatoes. It is made by mixing ground beef with crumbled bread, eggs, tomato paste, diced onions, and spices. These ingredients are baked into a hearty, delicious loaf that is crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.

FRYING CHEESE

Though Greenhearst isn’t known for its ranching industry, many of its residents do own their own milk-producing livestock. Locals like to turn this milk into hard cheeses and then fry them on the grill like meat. What makes this dish popular is its versatility and portability. It can be wrapped up and carried around all day, which is ideal for those who work outside. It is often eaten plain, but may also be flavored or paired in countless ways. Tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, and apples are some of the more common pairings.

APPLE CIDER

Greenhearst is home to vast apple orchards, and it seems there is nothing the locals can’t do with this fruit. Apple cider is such a hot item here that there are entire shops dedicated to it. Keeping the shelves stocked is easy with so many different types and flavors available. Greenhearst produces enough cider to export it to other regions as well, including overseas. This drink, along with beer, support a large chunk of the territory’s economy. Cider comes in alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties, so it can be enjoyed by people of all ages. It can also be served cold or warm.

POTAPLO CASSEROLE

Thinly-sliced potatoes and apples are arranged in layers and baked in a dish with onions, rosemary, nutmeg, and topped with melted cheese. This dish is so filling, flavorful, and simple to prepare that it has become the most popular dinnertime meal in Greenhearst.

CARAMEL BUTTER BAR

These chewy bars are a common dessert food in the region. A layer of melted caramel is poured onto buttery dough forms, then the bars are topped with crushed hazelnuts and salt. Once they cool, they are solidified and ready to eat. These bars are high in fat and sugar, but locals find it hard to eat them in moderation.

CHICKEN CHILI

A flavorful chili containing chicken, red beans, green beans, carrots, tomatoes, onions, and peppers. It is hard to grow spicy peppers in Greenhearst’s cool-temperate climate, so this chili is quite mild when prepared the traditional way. Regardless, it is hearty and healthy with its plethora of nutritious ingredients.

OTHER

Beer and appelchek are also staples of traditional Greenhearstian cuisine. You can read more about them on the main Evangelite Cuisine article.

SEE ALSO

Cuisine Masterpost

Greenhearst

Queen Indiga Evangeline

Evangelite Fashions

Evangelite Territories

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[dreamgrlarchive]

some holy grail makeup products? 💕🎀

Fav Makeup Products 🎀

iconic london “doll” shimmer pigment palette

nyx butter glosses (all of them!)

fenty gloss in diamond milk, sweet mouth and fu$$y

kylie cosmetics gloss in daddy’s girl and klear

nars blushes (get as many as you can!)

buxom shimmer plumping glosses

broadway clear oil lip glosses

nyx pink lip oils

huda beauty mascara

benefit bad gal bang mascara

nars foundations

pat mcgrath divine rose palettes

anastasia beverly hills norvina 4 palette

morphe 39s palette

danessa myricks creams

natasha denona face palettes

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 6

Masterpost is here.

Peter woke up on the library sofa that he was beginning to think of as his and hefted his bag over his shoulder.

He was doing okay. Really, he was fine. Considering that he was a minor with no resources or adults to help him, his life wasn't so bad.

Last night he'd gone to the gym early and thought about washing his dirty clothes in the shower. He hadn't, but he figured he would have to eventually. He could wear everything at least twice before it was an issue, right?

He chewed on that thought on his way to get breakfast. Today's hotel buffet had boiled eggs, which was new and exciting hotel fare. He made buttery whole grain toast and tried to calculate how many calories he was probably getting on this breakfast buffet lifestyle. ….on the good buffet days 1000 per day, at least.

There was no chance that it was enough to fuel Spider-Man. He had whole fat milk and juice to bulk it up, instead of water, but he knew it really wasn't enough.

‘Maybe I should be going to two buffets per day. They'd notice if I took a day's worth of meals from any one place, but they're open for hours.’

This place was one of the ones that had little plastic tubs of peanut butter with the peel off lid. With a guilty look over at the inattentive desk worker, Peter pocketed a couple for a snack later in the day. The only other non-refrigerated thing that looked small enough to pocket were rolls, and there weren't a ton of those. He took one.

He still had most of the cash from the wallet, but the idea of spending it seemed like a bad one. He might need it a lot more in the future.

‘I should look into food banks?’ That seemed right. There'd been a time after Uncle Ben died that Aunt May had gotten help that way.

Hopefully not for long. Maybe that potential client would hire him today. And them-

….how would they pay him? Peter put his face in his hands and breathed into his fingers for a bit. He didn't have a bank account. Could he open a bank account using only his birth certificate? Probably not! He definitely needed to figure out the social security number thing. Fast.

Peter didn't cry but it was a close thing. It was just… it was all so overwhelming. Nothing was just easy. He couldn't even just work and get paid because there were a billion steps needed before you could get money you'd earned.

Grimly, he wondered if there was something else. There was probably a way to get paid under the table, same day. Manual labor? Some kind of bottom barrel criminal stuff like smuggling or whatever it was people did with drugs?

He wouldn't mind the manual labor, except that it would be a very big problem for his under-fueled metabolism. But he probably had to choose hunger over small time crime. Didn't he? Peter bit his lip and wondered what Aunt May would say. She'd never broken the law, he was pretty sure. But she was a huge proponent of children getting to eat. Maybe she'd forgive him.

That was probably all beside the point. Peter didn’t know how to do any of that. He couldn’t survive by doing crime if he tried. He was kind of relieved to dismiss the idea that way.

‘School really might be my way out,’ Peter thought longingly. ‘If I get a scholarship and housing, that’s a ton of my problems solved right there. I’d be able to get a legit job a lot easier with an address and maybe a student ID.’

That was a longer term plan, then. For now, he had to figure out how to eat until that panned out.

Unbidden, he remembered Kon’s unused kitchen and endless credit cards.

Peter instantly felt a deep well of shame. He wasn’t going to use Kon like that. He wasn’t befriending Kon to benefit. That would be majorly messed up.

He was really looking forward to their planned hangout today, though. He didn’t feel guilty at the thought that he’d probably get to eat there if he cooked. That was normal, that was the kind of thing that friends did. It would be weirder to invite him over and not eat together.

They hadn’t exactly picked a time. Peter figured he would kill time until the library opened at 10, check his email, maybe study a little, and then head over. He didn’t want to go over there so early that Kon fed him both lunch and dinner. It had been fine last time, but it would be tacky to orchestrate that on purpose.

Social Security numbers. Peter mentally reframed the day’s mission to that. He’d check the email, sure, but rather than studying coding he was going to figure out how to get a social security number.

Well. Two. One for his real name, and one for his office workersona.

Peter cleared out of the hotel lobby when he heard an employee start to move around in the office behind the desk. He went to another hotel, got a piece of toast, fruit, and coffee, and then killed time by walking around for a couple of hours.

He wound through the morning crowds with an easy grace and enjoyed the pretense that he was one of them, a regular guy headed to work or something. It felt good to be lost in a crowd and have absolutely no one look at him like he was sticking out. He was having a terrible time but honestly, for a homeless jobless teenager, he was doing a really good job. He didn’t look weird or smell bad, and he’d figured out at least a short term survival strategy and a long term plan that he was working towards.

Oh. Peter felt a twist in his gut. He didn’t stop walking but he felt guilty about it. He probably shouldn’t be mindlessly burning energy by walking around, not when he was eating maybe half of what an average human should eat per day. Mr. Stark had put his ideal intake around 3500 calories, more if he was active. He had a lot of muscle that he really didn’t want his body to cannibalize for fuel.

…There were still a couple hours until the library opened. Peter really, really wished he at least had a library card. If he’d been able to take out a book he could sit on a bench somewhere and kill time without looking too weird. He could even go to a diner and get like, a one dollar black coffee and hang out. Since this was a fantasy, he went ahead and mentally added a cinnamon roll to the imaginary order. Wow, luxury!

Peter laughed to himself. No one looked at him, because this was New York City and a kid laughing on the sidewalk was banal.

It was a weird little goal, but it made him smile. He’d fix his life. He’d have a legal identity, and a place to sleep, and be able to go to school and work. When he got to that point he’d be able to go to a restaurant and order a cinnamon roll and not worry about anything, except how he was going to get back to his universe or whatever. You know, just the normal concerns, not survival.

He killed time in a park, watching ducks bob around and groom each other. The sunshine did something for his mood. When he felt it had been long enough he went to the library and followed through on his plan. He didn’t have any emails yet, except a notification from the job site saying that employers were looking at his profile and he could see who, for a nominal fee!

Peter deleted the email, disgruntled. Seemed kinda predatory.

He went on to learn about the social security system. Apparently they were assigned randomly, and there were multiple physical addresses that issued cards. There were more of them than he’d expected. He found one in a 3rd floor address nearby that was open from 7am to 4 pm and figured out how to get there and what the building looked like. Then he did more reading, brow furrowed, trying to figure out what to do.

It might be more secure to make it look like he was an immigrant who got a social security number assigned as an adult. If he claimed to be from out of the country, then it would be harder to research where he supposedly came from.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to lose his identity as a New Yorker. That was important to him. Peter bit his lower lip and thought it over.

Actually. You didn’t have to be born in the states to be a real New Yorker. He made up imaginary back stories for both of his IDs. The worksona was a born citizen, because Peter didn’t think that was likely to get looked into much. Since that person didn’t really exist, he was going to abandon it as soon as he didn’t need it.

His real ID for the universe was going to be from overseas. He decided that he’d been born in… Moldova.

Peter took a moment to look up Moldova to be sure it still existed in this universe. It did, and it seemed about the same. No travel restrictions to the United States, but not much economic power. It was not a common place to come from, but that fit his purposes. He didn’t want someone to ask why he didn’t speak whatever his supposed native language was.

…Peter made a mental note to look up language resources. Even if he’d supposedly emigrated at a young age, it would be more convincing if he knew at least a little. And it would be a good way to spend some time.

Huh. That was an idea. He probably couldn’t take books out of the library, but he could get a notebook and a pencil for like, 2 dollars, and take notes here. Then he’d have something to study in the hours he was outside with nothing to do. He’d look a lot less weird just sitting around if he looked like a student.

He took a minute to look up their flag and a few trivia points. Then Peter called it good enough for now and started off towards Kon’s apartment.

It would be a lie to say that it was convenient. It could have been worse, but it was far enough that Peter would have used the subway if he had the money to spend.

…He made a note to look into subway hopping. That wasn’t a real crime. It shouldn’t cost anything to use public transportation, it was literally built for public use. But right now, on the way to see a friend, seemed like a bad time to possibly get held up for a misdemeanor.

So he walked. It took him 40 minutes to get to the apartment block. He ducked into a dollar store that he passed on the way to get the notebook and pencil he had decided on, feeling good about it. His stomach grumbled when he passed the cooler with sandwiches and drinks. He ignored it as best as he could and directed his gaze elsewhere. It was easier to be hungry when there wasn’t food nearby.

Peter knocked on the door with his knuckles.

The door opened before he could call out. Kon grinned down at him and then whooshed back to let him in.

“Thanks,” he said. “Have a good day so far?”

Kon shrugged. The light caught on the metal spikes on his jacket with the movement. He turned around and walked ahead of Peter. “I was out of town ‘til this morning, sleepover with some friends,” he said.

Somehow the sight of his absurd muscles peeking out the mesh window startled a cough out of Peter, even though he’d been there when Kon modified the jacket.

“How about you?”

Peter’s brain took a moment to come online. “Uh, I was at the library this morning,” he said. At the weird look Kon gave him, he shrugged self consciously and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m looking into college stuff,” he justified. That was really normal.

“...College, huh.” Now Kon looked uncomfortable. “You must be smart.”

Peter’s face burnt red. “In some ways,” he dodged. “Are you gonna go?”

Kon blinked at him. “I mean….” He gestured at himself with one hand. “I’m not exactly the type, am I?”

“Because you’re hot?” Peter asked, confused. What else was that gesture at his pecs supposed to illustrate?

They stared at each other. Then Kon broke out into snickers. “Because I’m not that smart,” Kon said, like it was a fact of life. “It’s just not for me.”

Kon was laughing, but Peter felt… he felt kind of angry, actually. “Who told you that?” he demanded. He curled his hands into fists in his pockets. “Why don’t you think you’re smart? Eff that. You could go to college. Maybe you should go with me,” he added impulsively. He could help Kon figure it out. Honestly, Kon probably needed help if his parents weren’t talking to him about school or a job.

“Where are you going?” Kon asked. He cocked his head to the side.

Ah. Well. “I’m not very far in the process yet, but I was thinking about Gotham U for engineering,” Peter admitted.

Kon started laughing for real. “Gotham,” he gasped. “Gotham? Me, in Gotham?”

Peter felt his shoulders hunch up. “They have a good program,” he said stiffly. He hadn’t thought Kon would laugh at him. His throat felt tight. He took a step backwards without thinking about it. Maybe this was a mistake.

Somehow Kon tuned into his mood even without looking. He held up a hand, flustered through the remnants of his snickers. “No– no, I mean, I have a friend in Gotham,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to bring that up as a possibility.”

Oh. The stiffness in his shoulders relaxed, just a bit.

“Maybe I should go,” Kon mused. “And surprise him. That would be really funny.”

Peter shrugged.

[prying-pandora666]

My Love, I’d Gift You Every Sunday

My love,

Had we the means to afford our own home, and to better treat my failing health, I would bake scones for you every Sunday.

I would not rouse you early. Let you rest the long week’s troubles away. And while you slumbered I would put out softened butter and clotted cream.

I would dress for beauty rather than for comfort as I usually do. I do not usually feel the need to decorate myself for the benefit of others, but for you, on Sundays I’d be fair.

And when you woke, it would be to the scent of freshly baked brunch and your favorite milk tea.

My love, I know you’d walk out blearily and then spy me and startle. And despite my insistence that you are fine as you are, I know you’d feel underdressed, and rush to bathe and pick out a good suit.

You’d be relieved that your shirts are already pressed.

And my love, when you returned to the table, we would sit together and laugh. We may speak about 1000 things and find humor of a sort in them all.

And once you were satisfied with food but trembling with hunger of another kind, for you are aware of my coquettish pout and heated gaze, calculated but not malicious, only then would I consider the meal a success and give you the pleasure of undressing me.

It is the only day a week you shall have me this way. I care not for frivolous, uncomfortable clothes or to play the part of simpering wife. I am a partner, not a maid nor a trophy. All my life I have been likened more to my brother than to my sisters, and the years have only made me like the roles forced upon my sex even less!

But one day a week, my love, you may have this side of me and I will take pleasure in it.

Alas, we have no such means to buy a home.

Alas, we have no such means to repair my health.

Alas, you do not exist at all, for I tire of this over-indulged and under-disciplined world and have not had even the desire to find you.

Alas, I shall endeavor then to pour my love into other matters. Friends & those in need.

And my art, of course, for as long as my frail health may sustain me.

I do not suffer this loss for it was never truly mine. But I do pity you, beloved, if you’re still searching for me.