#Pear Beads

[avegemstones]

[artnew8]

🍇🍇🍇Glass grapes 🍇🍇To create jewelry with a modern look 🎉🎊

[beccyn]

Tiny pear, what is your wisdom?

[faecaribou]

me being normal:

random internet person: what if (fictional character that is 16 years old! with no children) was a tired father of 8?

me: holy shit, what what if fictional character was a tired father of 8!!!! (writes 6,000 words about it)

[stoptellinglieslois]

Pear beading

[tiarascrowns]

Mid-Mentury Aquamarine Suite

"Aqua parure including a necklace, 2 pairs of earrings, a bracelet, a ring and a pair of clips by Seaman Schepps in original fitted box."

- 1st Dibs

"Pat Saling is well-known for her signed pieces from Art Deco through mid-century. This Seaman Schepps aquamarine suite from the 1950s is a true find for collectors who prefer retro and vintage pieces to those of the Georgian and Victorian time periods. The aquamarines are of the finest quality – deep and clear, conjuring up sea-blue waters. The pieces in the suite combine both aquamarine beads and faceted small and large pear-shaped stones in a warm gold setting, with various earring and pendant options and a central necklace with an oval-set aquamarine and gold clasp."

- The Jewellery Editor

[rafedaddy01]

I think you should do a “my bestfriends dad trope with a age gap,” example -> rafe has a daughter reader her bestfriend (last name can be Thornton) (smutt) mix with it

Daddy’s Girl

A/n: I absolutely love this idea!!

“Your dad is soo hot” you spin around on the island chair and face your best friend.

“Ew, y/n, stop it!” Jaylin, Rafes daughter, says.

The two of you have been friends since diapers. Your dad, topper Thornton, is best friends with Rafe. So you grew up with the girl.

“What? I’m serious, I don’t know why he’s single” you roll your eyes as you watch Rafe exercise through the glass window.

“Your dads a total dilf” you laugh as your best friends face turns in disgust.

“Come on. Let’s go upstairs and do our homework” she rolls her eyes and grabs her water bottle off the counter as she makes her way toward the stairs.

“Where are you girls off too” Rafe comes out of the home gym with a towel around his neck and the beads of sweat deliciously falling off his body.

Over the years you’ve given Rafe subtle hints about your little ‘crush’. You’d never actually act on it, or would you..

As Rafe stood in the hallway awaiting a response the two of you lock eyes. “We have homework to do Mr. Cameron” you flutter your eyelashes at him as you say the last bit a little flirty.

Your best friend finger gags her mouth as she turns and grabs your arm, pulling you up the stairs.

Rafe isn’t fazed by your behavior, he was used to it. Sometimes he would play along.

“You stayin the night again y/n?” He cocks and eyebrow at you as you turn your head a grin. “Yes sir” you wink at him as you follow jaylin to her room.

Rafes eyes never leave your figure until it disappears into the dark hallway.

**

The night fell and as you stirred in bed next to your friend you wondered if anyone would hear you go down for a glass of water.

You quietly pulled the sheets off your body and slipped your slippers on as you tip toed out the door.

Careful to not make the stairs creak, you walked down them and headed into the kitchen.

There was a small light in the living room and as you passed by you heard a noise, almost like someone in pain.

You stopped and peared into the room and saw Rafe sitting on the couch, all you could see was the back of his head but it was pretty clear what he was doing. The noises he was making made it obvious.

You felt like you shouldn’t be watching but at the same time you could look away.

“Oh fuck” he groan under his breath as his movements picked up.

“Oh y/n, fuck! Right there”

Your eyes widened as you listened to your best friends dad masturbate to the thought of you.

A smirk tugged your lips as an idea came to mind.

Rafe couldn’t see you because of the way the couch was set up, his back was to the entrance.

So you slowly walked over and peeked over the back of the couch, watching his strokes speed up.

His eyes were closed and his head dipped back slightly.

You reached out and placed both hands on his shoulder making him jump a little and cover himself with a nearby blanket.

“Anything I can help with, Mr. Cameron?” You ask innocently as his cheeks flush and he looks up at you.

You start massaging his shoulders and lean your mouth down to his neck, peppering kisses up to his ear and nibbling on the lobe.

“Uh- fuck- y/n.. w-what are you doi-doing?” His voice is more of a groan as he leans back to your touch.

“Shh, wouldn’t want to wake jaylin would we?” You come around to the front of the couch.

He watches your every move as you strip out of your pajama shirt and step out of your shorts, leaving you naked

“Holy s-“ Rafe moans as he looks over your body.

“You know..” you say as you start to straddle him, intertwining your fingers behind his neck.

“I always wondered what it would be like to fuck an older man” you bit your bottom lip as you slowly grind on his cock over the blanket, your core dripping with arousal and leaving a stain.

“We shouldn’t do this. It’s wrong”

You prop yourself up a little and remove the blanket, watching his thick, lengthy cock spring up.

“He doesn’t think so” you smile as Rafes eyes lock into your.

“Please fuck me?” You plead as you rub the tip of his cock with your hand.

“Your a naughty naughty girl, y/n” Rafe grins as he holds back a groan.

“Only for you” you say before positioning yourself over his massive length and pushing down.

You both moan quietly as you start moving.

Rocking your hips back and forward before bouncing up and down.

“Oh fuck! Your so big, daddy”

“Oh shit. Call me that again”

“Yeah? You like when I call you daddy?” You tease him as you start moving faster and faster.

“Fuck!” He picks you up like you weigh nothing and turns you over, ramming your knees to your chest and thrusting into you.

He gets much deeper in his angle and you try to hold back your moans but it feels too good.

You scream out and Rafe quickly covers your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up”

He slams harder into you while suppressing your moans with his big, muscular hand.

“Does daddy need to discipline his little girl?”

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf

[uncle-mojave]

Cazador Caravan is back baby!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/CazadorCaravan

After nearly a year long hiatus my shop, Cazador Caravan reopens and I'm back with a whole new section of products. Right now I have Prickly Pear suckers and glass bead earrings.

I am currently working on bottle cap wind chimes again, desert glass sun catchers and wind chimes as well as several other products that will be listed in the coming weeks.

Right now everything in my shop is 10% off as a reopening special and will be 10% off until Moday June 10th!

Thank you very much for the support y'all have given me. I've had this shop open since 2017 and have done over a thousand sales. I'm looking forward to making more unique and fun products straight from the Mojave desert.

[sare11aa11eras]

Catelyn and Ned for @salialenart’s dtiys challenge!

[Image Description: full length colored drawing of Catelyn Tully and Ned Stark in front of a weirwood heart tree. They are standing facing one another, in profile to the viewer. Their hands are laid over one another between them, bound with a golden ribbon.

Ned wears a high-collared tunic, a long vest, trousers, boots, and a hat. His clothes are grey. The vest, boots, and hat are trimmed with white fur. His inner layer has white details at the collar and cuffs. His vest and boots have details in red, white, and silver, including a red weirwood leaf motif going down the side of his vest. His hair is partly pulled back with a half braid down the back, secured by two silver ornaments with red details. He has a scruffy beard and looks somber. His right hand is extended to meet Catelyn’s and a red and blue striped cloak is draped over his lower left arm.

Catelyn wears a long gown. The skirt of her gown has vertical red and blue stripes. Her blue sleeves have two puffs in the upper arm, both slashed with red. The lower arm is a lighter blue with a wavy trim at the cuffs. Her bodice is mostly blue with a pseudo stomacher of horizontal white and silver stripes, trimmed with pears. She wears a string of red beads as a necklace. Silvery-white lace covers her throat in a high collar. She wears a Stark cloak, white with grey fur and a silver fastener. Her hair is worn in a single braid going down her back. Her braid, earrings, and the brooch at her throat are all silver with blue stones. Her left hand is extended forward to meet Ned’s. She appears calm.

The rest of the picture shows a large weirwood heart tree behind them, grassy ground interspersed with fallen weirwood leaves below them, and a light blue background. / End ID.]

[bebemoon]

look for the name PHILOMELA (requested by @antisisyphus) | { hair and holly lueders' caryatid dress } editorial photo by ellen von unwerth in vogue may 1994, mariano fortuny "delphos" bronze plisse gown w/ venetian glass beads along neckline (c. 191o's), joanne burke "wilted lady" large golden hoop earrings, alkemia "carmen 7" perfume (spiced pear, lychee fruit, praline, vanilla, magnolia, and amber), cult gaia "rene" metallic gold leather sandals

[xueyuverse]

离思五首 — The Five Songs of Mourning (complete)

And a little analysis.

In the morning mirror with the residual makeup of self-love, the hairpin is covered with green silk.

In a moment, the rising sun shone on the blush-painted cheeks, a red rose is about to awaken.

The mountain springs flow freely around the steps, and thousands of peach trees and blossoms reflect on the small building.

Reading Taoism leisurely and not getting up yet, watching her comb her hair under the bead curtain.

The red color is pressed by the new season, and the flower threads are soft and the dust is auspicious.

First of all, don't think that the material and soil are weak, a little sloppy is the most pleasant.

All water is forgettable when you’ve seen the vast blue sea, no clouds so wondrous as those at Mt. Wushan.

Idly, I pass by some flowers without looking back, partly to study Tao, partly to think of you.

There are usually hundreds of kinds of flowers in bloom, but the pear blossoms and white flowers are especially picked.

Today there are two or three trees at the head of the river, sadly spending the last spring with their leaves.

自爱残妆晓镜中，环钗漫篸绿丝丛。 [Zì'ài cán zhuāng xiǎo jìng zhōng, huán chāi màn cǎn lǜ sī cóng.] 须臾日射胭脂颊，一朵红苏旋欲融。 [Xūyú rìshè yānzhī jiá, yī du�� hóng sū xuán yù róng.] 山泉散漫绕阶流，万树桃花映小楼。 [Shānquán sànmàn rào jiē liú, wàn shù táohuā yìng xiǎo lóu.] 闲读道书慵未起，水晶帘下看梳头。 [Xián dú dào shū yōng wèi qǐ, shuǐjīng lián xià kàn shūtóu.] 红罗著压逐时新，吉了花纱嫩麴尘。 [Hóng luōzhe yā zhú shí xīn, jíliǎo huā shā nèn qū chén.] 第一莫嫌材地弱，些些纰缦最宜人。 [Dì yī mò xián cái de ruò, xiē xiē pī màn zuì yírén.] 曾经沧海难为水，除却巫山不是云。 [Céngjīngcānghǎi nàn wéi shuǐ, chúquè wūshān bùshì yún.] 取次花丛懒回顾，半缘修道半缘君。 [Qǔcì huācóng lǎn huígù, bàn yuán xiūdào bàn yuán jūn.] 寻常百种花齐发，偏摘梨花与白人。 [Xúncháng bǎi zhònghuā qí fā, piān zhāi líhuā yǔ báirén.] 今日江头两三树，可怜和叶度残春。 [Jīnrì jiāng tóu liǎng sān shù, kělián hé yè dù cán chūn.]

Yuan Zhen describes the beauty and shy vanity of a woman who woke up in the early hours of the day. His writing is thoughtful, as if it were a moment he had just experienced, on the morning of the day he wrote the poem.

The landscape is described from far to near, and one can imagine that the colors start out dark and gradually become clear and vivid. Yuan Zhen reads a Taoist work, but neither this nor anything around him stops him from watching his wife getting ready for a new day.

As mentioned earlier, here, the fourth part tells of the poet's devoted love for his wife. Nothing will ever be as splendid as his beloved is to him. Yuan Zhen was intoxicated by the rough sea and beautiful clouds of Wushan, whose beauty was unprecedented.

With the last part, we can conclude that throughout the poem there are dark details amidst the beauty, the apathy of someone who doesn't seem to see anything special anywhere. The land is neglected, the trees are withering. It was the end of spring and a widower was mourning.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

character layouts for this au !!

(lmk how I did, just kinda winged this)

Simon’s Daughter

Name: Brianna “Bri” Riley

Age: 16

Birthday: November 20

Physical Description: Blond hair (slightly brown in some streaks), blue eyes, diamond-shaped face, light brows, thin lips (downturned), nose has a slight ridge to it. Has some muscle packed onto her body, but generally skinny, with smaller breasts and butt, stands at 5’6, blond lashes.

Personality: Has serious rbf (resting btch face), and quiet like her dad, but has dry humor. Generally a bit more able to lead and take control of things, and make the hard decisions/calls. Not the type to talk about emotions. Anger issues. Burns bridges before trying to cross them.

Talents: Handling weapons. Simon would definitely not let his daughter go have some teenage fun without making sure she could handle a knife and gun, and he sent her to self-defense classes too. Also good with time management, as well.

Likes: Watching terrible romcoms with friends, she would die before admitting it, but she loves it, often hiding her tiny smile behind her hand. Also loves providing for people, her love language is def acts of service.

Dislikes: When people walk slowly or talk too slowly. It genuinely infuriates her. If you need to get somewhere or do something, hurry up with it??

Relationship with Family: Not in contact with mother (she might be dead, haven’t decided yet), close but strained bond with dad, close with uncle Kyle, Johnny, Price, and their kids.

Johnny’s Daughter

Name: Isla “Is” MacTavish

Birthday: August 17

Age: 16

Physical Description: Thick brown hair, darker blue eyes than Brianna’s, dark brows, little ridge to nose, medium-sized lips, medium breasts, and butt. Plumper body (think pear-shaped), with thick thighs. Has muscle, and lifts with her dad at the gym. Stands at 5’2, her right canine is slightly crooked, giving her a very devious grin. Face shape is diamond with a wider jaw.

Personality: Hilarious. Absolutely hilarious, just like her dad. She can make light of almost any situation, making jokes in her Scottish accent that defuses any tense situation. However, she also gets angry very easily, leading to both Brianna and Charlitte to hold her back from starting fights.

Talents: Learned a thing or two about defusing bombs from her daddy. She’s also freakishly good at math (got that from her dad, too), and can take things apart and put them back together very well, too.

Likes: Lighting things on fire. Throwing fireworks down the sideways-sewer-tunnel things in ditches and watching them explode. Just destroying things.

Dislikes: When people make fun of her accent. It inflamed her temper worse than anything, because who do they think they are to make fun of her family and ancestor’s accent??

Relationship with Family: Very close with mother and father (both around in the same house, married), and close with uncles Kyle, Simon, John, and their kids.

Kyle’s Daughter

Name: Charlotte “Charlie” Garrick

Age: 16

Birthday: June 27

Physical Description: After some research, I think she’d have 4c hair, usually wearing it in braids tied up in a ponytail, and sometimes adding a lick of color into the ends. She doesn’t like beads on the ends, though. Bronzed skin, dark brown eyes, dark long lashes, dark brows, stands at 5’5 and ½ (yes she counts the half inch), softer diamond-shaped face. Medium breasts and butt, body is a bit plump like Charlotte, but she doesn’t have as much muscle, has more of a mushroomed nose, and plump lips.

Personality: She knows how to get all the gossip and drama out of someone, loosening their lips with the right words and faux sympathies, only to run back to the girls and spill everything. She has a strong moral compass (sometimes ignoring it), almost the opposite of Brianna, and she takes pride in her appearance being clean and put-together. When hanging out with friends, though, she is very sassy. Like Gaz really imprinted on her with the sass.

Talents: Good at getting information out of people/manipulating them (interrogation skills observed from her dad). She’s also mostly the one to calm everyone down, shutting arguments or fights down with some cleverly aimed words. (Basically, she’s the glue of the group)

Likes: Journaling. In school, she’s the type to have everything highlighted, underlined, and the prettiest handwriting by far. Writing her thoughts down helps ease any anxieties she has inside. (She also has the best perfumes)

Dislikes: Bratty children. She was raised to be respectful towards her parents, so seeing some screaming kid in the grocery…it makes her want to pop their little head off.

Relationship with Family: Close with mom and dad (separated, but on good terms, share half custody while both live in London near each other), close with uncles Simon, Johnny, Price, and their kids.

Price’s Son

Name: John “Junior” Price

Age: 17

Birthday: October 25

Physical Description: Rounder face, still has a decent jawline, the nose goes almost straight, the tip of it just barely pointing up. Medium-thickness chestnut brown hair, grey-ish eyes, medium size lips, brown brows. Cannot grow facial hair for the life of him (much to his father’s teasing), and stands at 5’7 and ½ (counts the half inch just to get on Brianna’s nerves). Has some muscles and meat on his bones, and a little belly pooch (his southern momma has been shoving him full of food). Has the fattest ass known to mankind.

Personality: He’s been raised to be a leader like his dad, but he’s honestly better at fixing than leading. Growing up with his younger sister, he learned to play gently, and how to fix any problems. The best with his emotions, and will patiently listen to anyone’s problems, understanding that sometimes you might just want someone to listen, and not fix. But he is very good at planning things out and fixing them if that’s what you want. He’s patient, and a bit soft-spoken, but can be rowdy, and if someone above him tells him to get his hands dirty…he will. Has a good moral compass, but ignores it most of the time.

Talents: Good at handling emotions, basically a free therapist. Very good at making plans, thinking rationally without any sort of tunnel vision on one thing, and fixing problems. Likes to think of himself as level-headed.

Likes: Secretly loves having tea parties with his little sister. Won’t ever admit it to the boys, but Uncle Kyle has caught him fake sipping a cup of tea, plastic crown on, with his sister before.

Dislikes: People who try to cut off relationships and burn down bridges instead of addressing the problem. People that run from their problems *cough, cough, Bri, cough*

Relationship with Family: Loves his momma and dad, (married) very close with both, and his little sister too, not to forget his uncles, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny, and their kiddos.

Price’s Daughter

Name: Josie

Age: 5

Birthday: April 12

Physical Description: Round face, big cheeks, big blue eyes, wispy brown hair. Chubby little body and hands, super short at 3’4, button nose, long eyelashes, puffy lips. Always has a tiny pout for whatever reason, but as soon as she sees her brother, her face lights up.

Personality: Little kids don’t have the most personality, but this kid loves Disney princesses, she makes John dress up as Tiana or her favorite, Rapunzel, and has tea parties with him and the stuffies in her room. She also loves cornbread and begs her mama to make it on the daily.

Talents: Eating copious amounts of cornbread?

Likes: Playing dress up.

Dislikes: Nap time.

Relationship with Family: Super close with everyone, but most attached to her mom, rightfully so.

Tags:

@seconds-over-first

[bijoumikhawal]

Ṣafa; Egyptian Women with coins in their hair

This style is attested in Edward William Lane's work from the 1830s. He describes it as follows:

The hair, except over the forehead and temples, is divided into numerous braids or plaits, generally from eleven to twenty-five in number, but always of an uneven number: these hang down the back. To each braid of hair are usually added three black silk cords, with little omaments of gold, &c., attached to them. For a description of these, which are called "ṣafa," I refer to the Appendix. Over the forehead, the hair is cut rather short; but two full locks (called "maḳàṣees"; singular "maḳṣooṣ") hang down on each side of the face: these are often curled in ringlets and sometimes plaited. (Egyptian women swear by the side-lock (as men do by the beard), generally holding it when they utter the oath, "Wa-ḥayát maḳṣooṣee!") [Page 45-46]

Further detail comes from an appendix focusing on jewelry:

It has been mentioned that all the hair of the head, except a little over the forehead and temples, is arranged in plaits, or braids, which hang down the back. These plaits are generally from eleven to twenty-five in number; but always of an uneven number: eleven is considered a scanty number: thirteen and fifteen are more common. Three times the number of black silk strings (three to each plait of hair, and each three united at the top), from sixteen to eighteen inches in length, are braided with the hair for about a quarter of their length; or they are attached to a lace or band of black silk which is bound round the head, and in this case hang entirely separate from the plaits of hair, which they almost conceal. These strings are called "ḳeyṭáns" and together with certain ornaments of gold, &c., the more common of which are here represented, compose what is tenned the "ṣafa". Along each string, except from the upper extremity to about a quarter or (at most) a third of its length are generally attached nine or more of the little flat ornaments of gold called "barḳ." These are commonly all of the same form, and about an inch, or a little more, apart; but those of each string are purposely placed so as not exactly to correspond with those of the others. The most usual forms of bar�� are Nos. 1 and 2 of the specimens given above. At the end of each string is a small gold tube, called "másoorah," about: three-eighths of an inch long, or a kind of gold bead in the form of a cube with a portion cut off from each angle, called "ḥabbeh." Beneath the másoorah or ḥabbeh is a little ring, to which is most commonly suspended a Turkish gold coin called "Ruba Fenduḳlee," equivalent to nearly 1s. 8d. of our money, and a little more than half an inch in diameter. Such is the most general description of ṣafa ; but there are more genteel kinds, in which the ḥabbeh is usually preferred to the másoorah, and instead of the Ruba Fenduḳlee is a flat ornament of gold, called, from its form, "kummetrè," or "pear." There are also other and more approved substitutes for the gold coin; the most usual of which is called "shiftisheh," composed of open gold work, with a pearl in the centre. Some ladies substitute a little tassel of pearls for the gold coin; or suspend alternately pearls and emeralds to the bottom of the triple strings; and attach a pearl with each of the barḳ. The ṣafa thus composed with pearls is called "ṣafa loolee.'' Coral beads are also sometimes attached in the same manner as the pearls. From what has been said above, it appears that a moderate ṣafa of thirteen plaits will consist of 39 strings, 351 barḳ, 39 másoorahs or ḥabbehs, and 39 gold coins or other ornaments; and that a ṣafa of twenty-five plaits, with twelve barḳ to each string, will contain no fewer than 900 barḳ, and seventy-five of each of the other appendages. The ṣafa appears to me the prettiest, as well as the most singular, of all the ornaments worn by the ladies of Egypt. The glittering of the barḳ, &c., and their chinking together as the wearer walks, have a peculiarly lively effect. [Page 572-574]

He goes onto describe a similar style worn by poorer women, but I probably will do its own post because it was still being worn in the Western Oases near the 1970s, and really doesn't use coins or barḳ.

This hairstyle initally was also worn with a particular headdress of upper and middle class Egyptian women, called a rabṭah, which is essentially a woman's turban. It is made with a tarboosh or ṭáḳeeyeh (I think Lane might mean taqiyah) as the base, with muslin printed or painted scarves called faroodeeyeh, or crepe scarves wrapped around it in a high, flat pattern. Over the tarboosh was stitched down an ornament called a ḳurṣ, made of metal and often gems, and distinguished by material- generally wether it was made of diamonds (ḳurṣ almás) or of gold (ḳurṣ dahab), with the latter often having an emerald or ruby cabochon in the center. A ḳuṣṣah/'enebeh (items similar to the Algerian khit errouh) or shawáṭeḥ (worn in the same manner, but made of pearl strands or netted beading with an emerald in the center) may also be attached, as well as many other small pendants and pins. It sometimes also had silver or gilt spangles attached to the front, in which case the rabṭah was made of rose or black muslin or crepe.

As can be seen from the sharper photos of bare headed women, the braids themselves start a few inches away from the scalp, not directly at it, probably owing to the texture of most of these women's hair.

While initally as Lane describes, this was a hairstyle for the middle and upper class, as those classes began to look increasingly at European fashions under the Khedivate and British Occupation, the hairstyle mainly continued use among the poor, dancers, and some Beoduins.

This style of many braids with bangs and often a turban over top is potentially rather old in Ottoman Turkish art, with examples appearing from the 17th century- though they are unfortunately unclear, as they could also be stylized tendrils of hair, and in some cases, clearly are such.

Similar styles of many long braids started a few inches away from the scalp are still used in Turkic groups such as Uzbeks and Uyghurs, particularly while wearing folk dress.

Sources/further reading:

Edward William Lane, The Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians.

Heather D. Ward, Egyptian Belly Dance in Transition: The Raqs Sharqi Revolution, 1890-1930

Unfortunately I don't have more to offer you, even for the Turkish style.

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

( "Immoral Immortality" — 1K words )

Immortal au writing made by my sweetheart @sukis-artchive based off this comic while we were chatting on discord

⚠️ Warning for violence and blood

—

It started off like any other night. Perkeo preferred the night shift. It was dimmer, quieter, and over all just less to handle. Well...

"Goodnight Pear..."

Moon's voice came from behind them, though thus wasn't the first and far from the last. Perkeo didn't jump at the sound or the menacing words. They quite liked the nickname 'pear', and as for 'goodnight' it wasn't meant to sound like a threat. Merely Moon greeting them, as he couldn't say "good day".

"Hey Moon"

Perkeo sounded happy, yet looked a little tired.

"How have you been?"

Moon had been doing well lately, (Perkeo knew this) but that didn't nothing to ease their mind.

"G-g...g-Gh-ooooD-"

His voice box glitches out. Perkeo refrains from sighing. They knew this would happen eventually, but the short peace with Moon doing well felt good. Too good. They were so close to fixing him. If only he could have held out a little longer. Moon isn't to blame though, he doesn't know.

And so Perkeo repeats the process they made, down to a tea. They learned how to buy the most time by doing this over, and over, and over again. Funny how similar that was to their 'life'. They always had a 2nd... or 87th chance to try again. Maybe get better results.

"Moon?"

They ask hesitantly, as always.

"Are you alright?

They learned not panicking at his silence results in less of a mess.

His pupils turn to red pinpricks, Perkeo isn't surprised, yet their heartrate still spikes. Some things never change.

A bead of sweat starts to form on their cheek, they know what's to come.

Moon reaches out to caress their face. Perkeo has learnt to accept fate.

...

"...Moon?-"

"Moon?"

"...Moon?"

"Moon!" Moon snaps their attention to Perkeo.

"Are you even listenin' to me? Geez." they hold a tablet, bangs barely cover what appears to be a small bandage.

"Sorry, Starlight, my mind was over the moon..." He looks around, getting his bearings, trying to remember what was happening... before that.

"Uh-huh"

The noise pulls him out of his thoughts, he doesn't even know what "that" was. Unable to recall it properly. Strange.

"So what were you saying?" He feels bad ignoring his friend, even if it was accidentally. What's wrong with you?

"I said we're done, you doofus, now go charge because we have a long day tomorrow... I'll close everything."

'All done'? Ohhh it must have been maintenance of his software, that's what the tablet was for. And it explains his forgetfulness, he was always like this after 'check ups'. But he trusts Perkeo.

He gets up off the desk, and reaches to grab them. "I'll leave it to you, then~ nighty night, friend. Sleep well."

He mutters a 'see you tomorrow' under his breath, as they bonk heads. His hand gently holding the sides of their face, fingers threading through their fluffy hair. He doesn't register their rigid posture. Or the slight tremor that courses through their whole body. Not even the small frown gracing their lips.

He walks off to charge, just as they had said.

Perkeo sighs, placing the tablet down. They had held the screen cautiously out of view from Moon the entire time. And start to utter Sun's cleanup chant "Clean up, Clean up".

They had luckily knew thought ahead to leave out the disinfectant. They had never been so grateful that the DCA cannot enter behind the desk, as they look down. Even through the curls falling into their eyes, they can see the crimson smear on the side of the furniture.

Their smear.

A bloody handprint slid across the hard surface.

Perkeo shivered as they walked around the desk. Trying not to look at the red mark. It was so painfully obvious among the bright colours of the daycare. The smell of iron becomes stronger as they get closer. Their stomach twists uncomfortably at the scent.

They reach for the disinfectant, grabbing it as a shudder runs through their body. They ignore it and get back to work. Hmmm, they'd get used to it, eventually.

Grabbing a small cloth, they dab it with disinfectant and get to work. Nose scrunching, they slowly build up the courage to touch the blood. Why is this so hard?

not like it's the first time.

Suddenly the feeling of sickness overwhelms them. They crumple a bit. The sight of their hand lining up perfectly with the print made them gag. It wasn't a pleasant sight, they forgot this would happen.

Memories flash back to them. Of all the other times they made the mistake of touching the handprint like this, instead of wiping it clean immediately.

Then, just like every other time, the other Memories come back.

Well if you can even call them that. 'Memories' sounds happy. Perkeo knew that the connotations don't mean anything though. They've been through too much, and learned that the bad experiences are also 'memories' in a sense.

Their body spasms, as their chest rocks with sobs. They'd never get used to extreme pain. Not even with how many 'deaths' they experienced.

It hurt so bad.

—

Their eyes were swollen and puffy with streaks from their crying. They learned that the only way to live longer was to not fight it. It would toy with them as much as possible, before going for the kill.

It tore into Perkeo like a feast, slicing them with sharp claws. They had been oh so gentle before, Perkeo may never get used to the change.

They didn't want to give it the satisfaction of a scream. It would only make it hurt more then. Perkeo remembers that.

They let it mutilate them. It scratches them, punctures them, drags them by their wounds and hair, pulls them apart. But this was a friend, Perkeo knew it was worth it. It'll all be over soon.

They find some comfort in that, feeling empty otherwise. The small voice of preservation that they thought they long since killed was barely a whisper.

...no....run...

Huh, now that's a surprise. Perkeo thinks, too late. The voice was warning them. Their body even knew what was to come at this point. Oh the irony, the vessel who puts them through this wanting the pain to stop. The only reason Perkeo sticks around here is because of their immortality. If it wasn't for their body, Perkeo wouldn't need to die.

Nothing, not Perkeos experience, nor all the past pain inflicted upon them, could prepare them for what's to come. Perkeo always blocked out this part, it's happened before.

They let out a single cut off screech. Their vocal chords still not fully healed from the last time.

As Moon forces his hand into their socket, violently ripping out their eye.

Blood splatters everywhere, the eyeball bursting in his grip. Perkeo crumbles to the ground.

...should have listened.

The little voice chimed, as Perkeo finally backs away from Moon, for the first time that night. Bad idea, and Perkeo knew it.

Though their immortal side has given them an aloof disposition and immeasurable tolerance. Instinct always found a way to persist.

They knew backing away would make it worse, but it hurt too much now for them to do anything else. They knew this would lead to it ending quicker.

Moon grabs them, claws digging into their flesh. They manage to make it behind the desk, his fingers raking through their skin before losing its grip. They try to pull themselves up, bloodied hands smearing the desk as they use it to push themselves up. They grab the tablet and force a shut down.

Hmmm, this is one of the first times they didn't die...

It takes them hours to fix up themselves and clean the mess, but when they finally do dread starts to well up again. Moon was shut down, but absolutely covered in Perkeos blood. Atleast this time Perkeo remembered to not leave any handprints on Moon. It made this so much harder to clean.

The dread still doesn't subside when they finish, as they pick up the tablet. Connecting it to Moon, they replay the footage. Watching their torture always made it worse.

Deleting the files, they reboot him.

They sigh.

"Hopefully this time we can last a little longer."

[joyouart]

Witchtober Day 6 - Meat (Hawthorn)

Hawthorn is sometimes called ‘whitethorn’, which refers to the pale color of its bark in contrast to the darker bark of blackthorn. May Tree is the most commonly used folk name. Other names are bread and cheese, Bara Caws (Welsh for bread and cheese), hagthorn, mayflower, quickthorn, pixie’s pears, cuckoo’s beads, lady’s meat, may bush, tree of chastity, quickset, and chucky cheeses.

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Here's a sneak-peek at tomorrow's prompt:

[the-paris-of-people]

Blue Brownies and Finding Nemo

Summary:

“Do you think if I was captured in the sea and taken to Australia, my Dad would try to find me?”

She looks like how Percy imagined her that night in the train bunk, sad, lonely, completely unloved. Percy blurts the first thing he can think of.

“Well, that would never happen because I wouldn’t let you get lost.”

Percy and Annabeth have a blue food movie date at Percy and Sally's apartment. Set at the end of summer after The Lightning Thief.

Read on AO3

“Honey, does Annabeth like brownies?” Sally calls from the kitchen. 

“It’s okay, Mom,” Percy reassures as he rounds the corner. Thick heat hangs in the kitchen from the August humidity, slapping his hands with a thick coat of sweat. “I’m sure between the blue popcorn, gummy sharks and gummy bears, Annabeth will eat something. You didn’t have to prepare so much.” 

“Oh, of course I did,” His mom drapes her arm over him as she tears open the brownie mix with her other hand. Percy closes his eyes, savoring the perfume and warmth he once thought he lost forever. “I don’t remember the last time you brought a friend over! And I’ve heard so much about Annabeth.” 

“It’s not a big deal or anything, Mom,” Percy lies as he draws out a mixing bowl from the cupboard. “We could have just gone to the movies ourselves.” 

“And miss out on the blue food extravaganza?” 

“Yeah, the AMC did stop serving Blue ICEES." 

"See? And what would a Finding Nemo party be without that? Oh," His mom's smile grows wider as she hears the door knock. "That must be her." 

Percy and his mom both stare down at each other, then sprint to the door at the same time. 

"Mom!" Percy protests. He knew Annabeth would love to meet his mom, but he was dreading all the embarrassing stories Sally joked she would tell. 

"Sorry," Sally teases as she swings open the door. "You know I had to beat you here. Hi Annabeth!" 

"Hi, Mrs. Jackson," A perfectly composed Annabeth greets. On her neck a sea-blue trident bead hangs low and in her hands lay a tray of blue brownies. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought meeting friends' parents was as smooth and natural to her as a knife cut to a monster's neck. Still, he caught the slight shake in Annabeth's voice, how she nervously brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She’d tied her braids back into a low ponytail, like she was leading her Capture the Flag team to victory and needed to be prepared for anything. Percy always liked when she wore her hair like that. "I know you and Percy like blue food so I made these." 

"Well, Percy was right when he said you were always prepared," Sally takes the brownies from her and pulls an off-guard Annabeth into a hug. For a second, Annabeth squirms in his mom’s arms, unsure of how to move, but finally she settles in and hugs her back. "Come in, sit down, I'll bring everything out to you." 

"It's okay, mom," Percy was worried about his mom's energy level since she’d gone to the Underworld. Even though Smelly Gabe was gone and she'd enrolled in night classes at NYU, he saw how fatigued she’d been the past couple months, sagged slightly in the moments she thought he wasn't looking.  "I'll bring out the food." 

"Thank you, honey," Sally ruffles his hair as he walks by.

Percy’s hands tremble as he sorts the assortment of blue food in their special blue platter his mom had bought at the farmer’s market down the street, the hand-painted one with a mermaid on it. How was this going to go? The only time his mom had ever met one of his friends, he was kind of being chased by a minotaur and disappeared to the Underworld. What on earth was she going to talk to Annabeth now that they weren’t in a life or death crisis? 

“Oh, and look how cute he was, in his jammies,” When Percy comes back out to the living room with the food, Sally had drawn out his baby albums and was pointing to a photo of baby Percy in his high chair, smeared pears across his lips. 

“Mom,” Percy’s ears burn crimson red. “Can you please put that away?” “There’s no need to be embarrassed, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth’s eyes glimmer mischievously. Oh gods. She would be using this as fodder for teasing him the next few summers. “Your pajamas don’t look that different now.” 

“Mom!” Percy’s cheeks light on fire. 

“Okay, sorry honey,” Sally shuts the album and touches Percy’s cheek tenderly. “You two enjoy. I’m just going to be in my room in case you want anymore brownies, just come get it.” 

As she floats into the next room, Sally leaves a warm trace of brownies and buttery popcorn and sugary candy behind her. Percy inhales it as Annabeth stares at his mom in a trance. Percy’s mom had that effect on people. 

“So,” Annabeth rubs her palms on her cargo pants as she chews on her lip, analyzing the snack options, then looking back up at Percy for a plan of attack. “You normally just eat all of this during your movie nights?” 

“Not always,” Percy scoops out a bowl of popcorn for her, knowing it’s the snack that she would like best. ”Sometimes we just buy blue snacks from the bodega, but one time we made an entire blue pizza together. It took a week to get the dye out of the kitchen, but you should have seen it, it was awesome.” 

“Cool,” Annabeth takes the popcorn from him and shifts in her seat uncomfortably.  Percy wanted to smack himself for being an idiot. She’d come up here now because she was going to take the train down to D.C. to live with her dad for the first time in six years. She’d never had a movie night with her parents, and she wasn’t sure if history would repeat itself or if they could in the future. He shouldn’t have been going on about how well he got along with his mom. 

“Anyway,” Percy turns on the TV and hovers over the Finding Nemo feature. Annabeth’s eyes flicker from the screen to the apartment door, like they did when she was distracted by something sad. Percy talks faster to get her to think about something else. “I figured we could watch a classic. You’ll love it. It’s got this talking turtle whos ‘totally tubular babyyy!’ ” 

Okay, maybe he immediately regretted his weird surfer dude British voice, but at least the voice did pull Annabeth out of her sadness. She raises her eyebrows her way to say you’re an idiot, Seaweed Brain , then grinned and looked down at the floor as she laughed, her eyes lit with sparkle where there was darkness a second ago. 

“You know, between this and the baby pictures, you’re just giving me things to make fun of you for next summer.”

“It’s okay,” Percy bobs his head, trying to ignore how full his chest felt with relief. For some reason, he hated seeing Annabeth upset more than most other people. “If you want, you can email me if you think of them sooner.”

“You want me to email you the insults I think of?” Annabeth repeats, shaking her head. “There isn’t enough time in the world for that.” 

“Okay, well at least send me a photo of the big sitting president statue,” Percy turns back to the TV and clicks on the movie.  

“You mean the Lincoln Memorial?” 

“Yeah. You’ve been talking about it at the last four sing-a-alongs. I want to know if you finally got to see it.” 

When he looks back, Percy swears Annabeth is trying not to break into a smile. It was getting harder to ignore how full his chest felt. He makes himself turn his eyes away from her as they start the movie, the ocean blue light pouring over her expressive eyes as she scans the screen. 

“This is computer animation, right?” She asks thirty seconds in. He quickly glances back to see her eyes and mind moving a million miles an hour, analyzing the kelp, the corral, and the schools of fish in blues, yellows, purples. He could never understand how swiftly Annabeth’s mind worked, but he liked watching the gears turn. That was what he admired about her so much, she was constantly in puzzle-solving mode. He, on the other hand, was constantly counting to make sure he had all the pieces to the puzzle.

“It’s like that game we played in June,” Annabeth’s voice drops to earnest fascination. “The detail looks particularly sophisticated. This probably took years to make, with animators and writers and marine biology researchers..” 

“They don’t need marine biologists,” Percy lays back on the couch, finally relaxed now that they had fallen back into their rhythm and got past the awkward part. He pointed to Marvin and Nemo’s swaying purple new home, “I can tell you right now that’s…”  

“A sea anemone,” Annabeth finishes a flabbergasted Percy’s sentence. “Actinaria. It’s the perfect home for clownfish because it ensnares predators with its tentacles.” 

“How’d you know that?” Percy fake-pouts, mildly insulted. “I’m supposed to be the one with the sea knowledge.” 

“Please you should have dealt with this by now,” Annabeth teases, with that prideful, know-it-all twinkle in her eye. “I’m smarter than you.” 

Percy grabs a few kernels of popcorn from her bowl and tosses it in Annabeth’s face. She smirks, picks it up from her lap, and throws it back at him. Percy playfully catches one of the kernels in his mouth and winks at Annabeth, who laughs at him for the third time that day. 

They continue to tease each other intermittently as Marvin’s journey to Australia begins, his full chest easing into calm and warm. He realizes throughout this is the only time he’s fully been at peace since he left camp a couple days ago, maybe ever since he and Annabeth started really becoming close. When Marvin and Dory cruise on Crush, Percy imitates them again and Annabeth rolls her eyes so hard they spill to the back of her head, but soon she joins in with her own surfer voice that’s far better than his. (“You have a gift,” He tells her as she sits up smugly.) 

As the blue of the ocean on the screen turns somber and quiet, Annabeth falls silent while Marvin laments the loss of his son. She fixes her eyes on the scene, sucking on her lip, not responding to Percy when he asks if she wants anymore brownies. Percy’s heart sinks as he watches her, disappointed and crestfallen as she did in the elevator at the Arch. 

“Hey, you okay?” Percy instinctively reaches out to touch her shoulder. “When you get quiet like this, it usually means you’re sad.” 

Annabeth looks back at him, her vulnerable eyes dark and full, and because it’s because they spent all summer together, or because she’s seeing her dad soon, but she doesn’t evade the question like usual. “Do you think if I was captured in the sea and taken to Australia, my Dad would try to find me?” 

She looks like how Percy imagined her that night in the train bunk, sad, lonely, completely unloved. Percy blurts the first thing he can think of. 

“Well, that would never happen because I wouldn’t let you get lost.” 

Annabeth cocks her head at him. Oh crap, he blushes. He shouldn’t have said that. 

“You wouldn’t let me get lost?” She repeats, like he’s implying that she had no directional sense. 

“I mean I know you can honestly navigate anywhere, even like, that crazy maze that changes in space in time.”

“You mean Daedulus’ labyrinth.” 

“Whatever,”  Percy backtracks, trying to think with her melting brown eyes concentrated on him. “I mean you can somehow follow my mind. But if you ever fell in the sea or got captured by a boat, I wouldn’t leave you in there. I would dive right there and fish you back out. Not just you, Grover too.”  

Annabeth’s smile lingers as she turns her attention back towards the movie. 

“Well it’s nice to know you use your sea power gifts for good use,” She grabs another gummy fish from the table. She’d eaten a lot of those, too. Percy had to make note of that for the next time they watched a movie together. “I wish I could say I could save you from an evil owl or something, but who knows how that would turn out.” 

Percy laughs and revels in another flood of relief. Annabeth had unclenched now, her cheeks and legs relaxed as she re-focuses on the screen. He studies her again as he watches the gears grinding in her mind, dissecting the movie at every new scene. He couldn’t believe he wouldn’t see her for a whole other year, except through emails and iris messages. 

“Hey,” Percy nudges her when Marvin and Nemo finally reunite. She turns back to him, like she knows he knows the right thing to say to her. “Your dad would save you. I know he would.” 

Annabeth beams at him for a moment, then quickly frowns, like she just smelled their downstairs neighbor’s bad lasagna downstairs. 

“Hey,” She turns her entire body towards him, as if to tell him something serious. Oh no. Did she smell the neighbor’s lasagna? “You know I don’t actually think I’m smarter than you, you know?” She asks frantically, searching every inch of Percy’s face for reassurance. 

Percy blinks, taken aback. He doesn’t know what he was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. 

“I know,” He says softly, because he does. ‘Don’t worry, I know.” 

Slowly, very slowly, they smile at each other, studying each other for maybe just a second too long. They turn back to finish the movie, and Percy thinks about how he knows, just like with Grover, but somehow a little different, that Annabeth is his friend for life. 

*** 

I finally made it, Seaweed Brain. Now tape this to your locker and carry it around. 

He rereads the email once, twice, three times. It could be because he’s dyslexic, but he swears he rereads it at least 10 times in the next hour. 

Even though he knows she’s just teasing, he does print it out and carry it around with him.