bejewelled skull

Tell me your birthstone, and I’ll tell you about your past life

credit to- cold__cocoon

Garnet: In your past life, you were a deer with antlers like a gnarled pine tree. A boy shot you with an arrow as you pranced through the king’s enchanted forest.

Amethyst: You were a boy who wore the skins of a magical deer on the day you were beheaded for the crime of poaching.

Bloodstone: You were an executioner who followed orders to cut off a child’s head.

Diamond: You were a witch who avenged your murdered son. You skinned and gutted the executioner, roasted him over a spit fire, and arranged him on a silver platter with an apple in his mouth. You served the cooked man to your feline familiars.

Emerald: You were a priest who captured a witch and burned her at the stake for murder and sorcery.

Moonstone: You were a black cat. You watched your witch mistress being set aflame. You told the goblin king what you had witnessed.

Ruby: You were a goblin king who lived in a giant red-capped mushroom and who sat upon a throne made of bird beaks. You wept to hear of your beloved’s fiery death. You climbed upon the back of an owl, and flew out in pursuit of justice.

Peridot: You were an owl who clawed out the eyes of a priest with your steely talons and replaced them with glittering white moonstones.

Sapphire: You were a vulture who feasted upon the corpse of a priest. You carried his bejeweled skull over the clouds towards your nest, but somewhere along the way, you dropped it.

Tourmaline: You were a melancholy queen who found a skull bedecked with gemstones, and recognized it as belonging to your lover, the priest. In a mournful rage, you threw it at the enormous wall of bones that separated the ocean from your terrestrial kingdom.

Topaz: You were a watchman in the lighthouse, the one who first saw the bone wall shatter and the ocean’s waters rush inland. You rang the enormous brass bell to alert the king, who threw you into the floods and took your place in the lantern room.

Turquoise: In your past life, you were a mad king who lived in a lighthouse made of unicorn’s horns. You spent your days writing royal commands on little flakes of skin you peeled from your stomach, folding them up into tiny airplanes, and flinging them out over the ocean, where they floated on the surface for a few days before being found by a passing mermaid or clever octopus. The creature would read the written command for a moment, shrug, and then toss it to the ocean floor.

In the end, there was only you in the world, because your kingdom was covered in seawater, and everyone’s algae-covered skeletons slept in the briny deep, eternally dreaming of being mermaids and octopuses who find little notes written on skin-paper.

The final note you wrote said this:
“Dear God!
Tell me:
Where did it all go wrong?”

the signs as moments from blackstar
  • aries: the girl with a tail
  • taurus: the dancing scarecrows
  • gemini: the skeleton floating away
  • cancer: that weird ass twitching dance
  • leo: the bejeweled skull
  • virgo: the ritual at the end
  • libra: the black star bible/notebook/whatever the fuck it is
  • scorpio: the eyeliner
  • sagittarius: the tentacle monster
  • capricorn: bowie's face when he says "i'm-a take you home"
  • aquarius: the dead astronaut
  • pisces: the blindfold

From David Bowie’s Blackstar

“The “Blackstar” video begins with an eclipsed sun looking down on a woman with a tail and a bejeweled astronaut skull—and it only gets stranger from there. The music is similarly outré, 10 minutes of interstellar art-rock and ritualistic chanting and melodramatic balladry and even some playful funk. In scope and audacity, it’s closer to the cocaine-fueled fantasias of 1976’s “Station to Station” than almost anything he’s done since. It’s certainly worlds away from the relatively staid songs on his 2013 comeback album The Next Day, which could be looked back on as a warm-up, an explorer getting his space legs back after years on land. The “Blackstar” at the center of the song takes the form of a messianic figure whose intentions are certainly questionable and probably destructive. “You’re a flash in the pan/ I’m the great I Am,” Bowie sings in character, poking fun at our need to explain the inexplicable while remaining as perplexing and powerful as ever.” via Ryan Dombal @ Pitchfork 

anonymous asked:

I'd love to see a one-shot (or a freakin' novel-length epic, who am I kidding?) involving Darcy working as a figure model for an art studio and Steve dropping in randomly, just to take a class. I see Darcy as working for SHIELD, but not necessarily with the Avengers. Soooo many Steve/Darcy fics feature him drawing her like one of his French girls, but I'm not sure I've ever seen one where the first real thing Steve knows about Darcy is what she looks like naked.

Hi Anon!  I couldn’t quite get the novel length down (if I attempted that right now you’d probably be waiting years for a story, and I don’t want to do that to you :), but I hope this works for you.  Consider it the beginning of a relationship with plenty of potential for the future with Steve and Darcy.  Thanks for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy the ficlet!


It’s a slow process, this whole adapting to the 21st Century, Steve thinks.  He can pick up the technological parts no problem, and books and the internet can catch him up on the missed historical events.  SHIELD provides him with something that resembles a purpose, and a chance to grow and hone his skills so that his entire body is one finely drawn weapon.  However, many of the cultural nuances are still a mystery to him.  Natasha’s ever growing list of things Steve needs to know for life in the 2000s is, by its general nature, incomplete and ever growing – there are still plenty of things for him to learn.

Even art has changed, though catching up on that is more a pleasure than anything else.  Steve likes seeing the developments that cropped up after he went into the ice, and while he doesn’t always understand what they’re trying to say (a bejeweled human skull?  Really?) he likes that art is still accessible and important. 

The sketchbooks provide Steve with a nice escape, losing himself in the flow of the lines and the deepening shadows of the shading while his mind wanders to memories he’d like to forget and nonsensical thoughts when he can’t take the memories anymore.  When he’s got a few free days, as SHIELD schedules seem to have more free time than he’s used to, he’ll hunt down a drop-in art class to brush up on his skills.

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