jewelry display


Can we talk about the museum scene for just one moment? She’s looking for the tiny little remains of when people loved and remembered her. She’s trying to capture what she used to be, the amazing and worshiped goddess of her golden years. And all she has left is a statue and jewelry, both which are displayed as a curiosity. Watching this, I actually felt sad for her, even disregarded the fact that she’s killing people to survive. It is so human to be afraid of being left behind and the more time passes, the more human she becomes and the closer she is to disappear. It’s tragic and heartbreaking and I know I should feel less sad about her but god, this scene broke me.

In the 80′s and 90′s, everyone “properly educated” in Witchcraft and Paganism “knew” that a pentagram was the geometric shape of a five-pointed star, and a pentacle was a physical object, like a plate, with magical sigils inscribed into it, or an amulet cast into the shape of said sigils – often a pentagram but there were other seals and sigils used to create different pentacles for different purposes.  In Wicca specifically, the pentagram with a point facing up was the symbol of first-degree, the point down was the symbol of the second degree, and the point up in conjunction with a triangle was the symbol of the third degree.  Non-Wiccans either used point up as a default or had their own associations for the difference.  Western Ceremonial Magic traditions had different ways to draw the (always upright) five-pointed star depending on whether you were invoking/summoning or banishing, and the points you started drawing from and toward gave different elemental correspondences.  For example, the invoking pentagram of spirit started at the point of spirit (top), and drew down to the point of earth (usually lower left as the inscriber is facing it) as the first stroke, calling in powers of spirit into this earthly realm.

In the 90′s an earnest subset of non-initiate and non-British-Traditional Wiccans insisted that all Wiccans and witches only used the point up version, and that Satanists exclusively used the point down version, because they had stolen the pure and good symbol of the Wiccans and inverted it for their use exactly the way they used inverted crosses.  And there was much hand-wringing whenever Hollywood used upright stars in circles for “the bad guys” or inverted stars in circles for “good witches”.

In the 00′s there was a new definition that gained traction for a time that a pentacle was a five-pointed star in a circle, and was therefore “contained” and “safe”, and a pentagram was a five-pointed star without a circle, and was “dangerous” to use or wear because it could… summon things on its own?  use wild magic?  attract spirits? become a portal?  I’m a little fuzzy on this part.  But it was chaotic and “unbound” and therefore only suited to chaos magicians, reckless practitioners, and the most advanced witches, and should be kept out of the hands of children and new witchlings who needed to be protected from uncontrolled magic until they learned to defend themselves properly?  Anyways, it became very important among adherents to this philosophy to check all the penta-whatever pendants on a jewelry display to see if the points of the star were completely contained by, joined with, or extended beyond the circle, because these meant different things about how its magic worked and who it would be “safe” or “appropriate” for.

Oh and now I remember that for a time there were people who ascribed great meaning to whether the lines of a penta-whatever amulet or inscription were flat-joined or interlaced like celtic knotwork, and if they were interlaced, whether the overlapping happened in one particular direction or the other.  But I never quite caught the meanings they associated with those things.  Darn.

A competing meme in the 90′s and 00′s was that the point up was for summoning, and the point down was for banishing.

In the 10′s, the dominant story in the next generation of witchlings seems to be that the pentacle is any five-pointed star, in image or object (there is no differentiation between the shape and the physical object, that meaning has pretty much disappeared), with the point facing up, and is symbolic of “white witchcraft” (a racist distinction for another rant) or “good magic”, and the point down is a pentagram, which is used by Satanists, necromancers, demonologists, and “black magic”.

This new definition has become viral and I think we in the older generation are outnumbered now.  I think we’ve lost this meme war.  

But hey kids, if you’re reading books published before the turn of this century, please be aware that the author is probably using the older definitions of the terms and not these newer things.

Now what interests me is how it’s going to change in the next memetic shift.  Anybody want to place bets?

I have a small bet that the new wave of “true meaning” will be that a pentacle has to be cast in silver, and a pentagram is anything made in a different metal, such as bronze, copper, iron, steel, pewter, gold, brass, etc.

Most of my money is riding on that it’ll be something completely out of left field I’ll have never heard of or thought of, but that will be suddenly widespread and an “everybody knows that the real meaning…” phenomenon. Just like all the rest of these waves.  ;)

||❥ a moon without stars (m)

w o n w o o ! s c e n a r i o


word count: 18, 194 [ sorry not sorry]

genre: oh my god, it’s everything. angst + smut + fluff + romance + drama lord have mercy.

includes: the tale of Y/N’s first love, jeon wonwoo, and their relationship that builds up to an unplanned pregnancy. he helps his uncle out with mechanic stuff nd works part time as a body piercer. Y/N is a florist. mature themes nd shit, cried over this more than i needed to. enjoy!! :))

✎ don’t rlly have anything 2 say other than have fun reading, the soul has been sucked out of me!! jeon wonwoo destroyed my feelings!!

He is quiet, still like a marble statue that encases ivory bone and hot scarlet. He is impassive, a heavy brow left without a single crease nor a wrinkle, the ink that churns in indolent pupils murky, yet clear with your image that reflects in similarity to a mirror. His lips are beautiful, decorated in lovely shades of rose, yet they are not curled in a signature smile that flutters a heart or preludes a giggle. That is because, above all things, the boy is gobsmacked, perhaps even a little enraged.

Therefore, Jeon Wonwoo’s lips are plain straight. No, if they were to smile, you would burst like a water balloon, sprinkling the earth in droplets of solace. But it is not solace you feel when his face finally cracks, when his eyes flare in smoky streaks that practically engulf your lungs with desolation.

There is a click in your mind, an instinct to clasp your palms to your stomach as Jeon Wonwoo points his chin toward the floor and swears. Your words are still echoing around the room, burrowing within couch cushions and empty coffee mugs. They are permanent reminders that will forever linger, steeping around your limbs and tugging softly at your clothing. They remind you that your life will never return to normal, if normal even existed to begin with, and that sometimes, life can only prevail if a mistake is there to kindle it.

He will not hurt me, you acquaint in the sealed tomb of your skull. He will not lay a finger on me even though he is confused and angry. Every syllable that ricocheted behind thick bone only amplified how your chest ached, like someone’s fist had enclosed around your heart, squeezing it while the organ beat frantically. His fingers carded in exasperation through sable black hair, a groan so deep and desponding spilling in fashion to liquor from his lips. Still, you knew he would never bruise your flesh out of anger, out of spite perhaps starting to brew. You are beautiful, and Jeon Wonwoo does not bruise beauty.

Instead, he leaves it.

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The Friendly Wager (Part 4)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,578

Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, unrealized romantic tension, drinking

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?

I’m really behind on posting my parts for this challenge, I’ve got a long weekend, I wanna move this along because I’m dumb and entered another challenge, and I don’t wanna be a PIA for Kait, so I’m posting more frequently. Tags are closed.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Originally posted by dailyevanstan

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anonymous asked:

Okay so like: Imagine Keith and Lance meeting like ONE TIME when they were suuuuuuuper super little like 2 or something and they kissed and - listen I REMEMBER shit from that time in my life I don't give a fuck who says you don't remember shit till you're four but ANYWAY Keith and Lance and the others are talking about the first memories they have as kids as some bonding excercise and then OH BOTH KEITH AND LANCE KISSED A BOY IN THE SAME YEAR AT THE SAME PLACE HUH WOW bonus if they're dating

“Truth or dare?”

Everyone groans.

“Ugh.” “Lance, no.” “Stop it.” “Take this seriously!“ “Dare.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to the big guy floating at the center of the training deck. Of course it’s Hunk.

Hunk looks hesitantly at everyone else. Then, he shrugs. “What? It’s not like we have anything better to do until Coran figures out a way to turn the gravity back on.”

Pidge frowns. “Yeah, but why’d you choose dare?”

Lance answers this one. “Uhhhh, because only wusses like Keith don’t pick dare?”

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Old Souls (Part 3)

Summary: Your aunt runs an antique shop in the lower parts of Manhattan, and asks you to work in her shop once a week. You happily take the job, but then on your first day you have a strange encounter with an unusual customer - Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Things ensue as the two of you end up becoming friends - and maybe even more - as you reminisce about the old things that you love as well as your mysterious pasts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,438

Warnings: Fluff, a little angst

A/N: Hello again! We’re back at it again with another part! You get to learn a little more about the reader, just a tad more. Also, yes, I’m sorry for always posting so late. At least its late here (PST). I’m a night owl when I know I’ll be waking up early HA. Enjoy!

Other Parts Here

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Found this in the scrap wood pile, i think it was part of a porch that got removed…… reinforced the sides and added little gold hooks to hang earrings or various other trinkets and such for vending.
Nice recycled vending display that adds some rustic aesthetic <3

You can see the iridescent beetle wings so well!
Never worked with beetle wings before, though was pleasantly surprised at how strong they are and how much i love the clanking sounds they make<3

The proposal

Gwen knew David was a simple guy. She knew that he wasn’t one for flashy gifts or large, over the top displays of affection. That still didn’t stop her from gazing at the row of pricey rings displayed on the shop window. One golden band had maple leaves dancing around, another had an emerald beading. Gwen would have loved to buy David the ring with golden vines etched onto it, but she knew with her income she would have to settle for a simple one. Pity. David really deserved better-

Gwen quickly shook that thought from her head. No. She was not going to finish that train of thought. Thinking she wasn’t good enough is what lead to David crying for three days. Straight. David loved Gwen for who she is, not what she could buy him. The man was no gold digger, hell, he’d be happy with a plastic ring from a cereal box.

Strolling into the store Gwen marveled at the display of jewelry before her. Each piece was absolutely stunning. Had David been a more complex man she was sure he’d love the flashy pieces, but her boyfriend was of a humble spirit. The ring had to be just right. It needed to exclaim to the world, “ this boy can’t be bought, he’s mine and I’m his.”

She browsed the aisles for what felt like hours, frowning at the outrageous prices in the rings. Maybe she couls check the sale section?

“May I help you ma'am?” Gwen startled as the woman behind the counter addressed her. She fumbled with her words before mutely nodding. The woman beamed at her.

“Getting a ring for someone special?”


“Boy or girl?” Gwen raised an eyebrow at the woman. The lady chuckled at her reaction. “I ask due to ring sizes. I don’t judge love.” Oh. Right. Wait, what was Davids ring size again?

“Uh, boy. Really preppy, simple. Easy to make happy.” The woman nodded as Gwen listed off a few of Davids traits. She reached into a desk behind her and pulled out a plain band with a green line going around it. The ring was absurdly plain, but it would look absolutely stunning on David.

Gwen paid for it without a word. Luckily it didn’t cost her a fortune. Good. Otherwise David would feel guilty for having her spend a lot on him.

Now to wait at home for David.


David sang Gwen’s name as he burst through the front door. It was a perfect day for an evening hike, he couldn’t wait to hit the hiking trail with his girlfriend.

When he got no reply David poked his head in the living room. He knocked in the bathroom door. No answer. He knoced on the bedroom door. Silence. With a shrug, David decided that he might as well get dinner started before Gwen came home.

He pulled off his coat and hung it then dug his apron out of one of the cabinets and tied it around himself. David pulled out the pot and was about to fill it with water when he heard the front door open. Gwen was back!

He quickly raced out of the kitchen to greet his girlfriend. “Gweeen!” He cried, throwing his arms around his slightly shorter lover. Gwen squacked and flailed slightly as she tried to regain her balance.

“Way to almost bowl me over David.” She said in mock anger. It was a good thing the ring was in her jacket pocket. He definitely would have questions if Gwen agreed to the bag.

David stepped back slightly so Gwen was at arms length. He brushed back a but of her hair causing Gwen to blush. It totally wasn’t because he was in an apron, looking like an adorable house husband. No sir ee.

“Oh, I was thinking we could go on a hike after dinner. I was just about to get it started-”

“Can’t we eat out tonight?” Gwen whined. “David, you have been cooking for the past week on top of work. And I doubt either of us bought groceries.”

“…….” Now that David thought about it, the fridge did look rather empty yesterday…..

“Pizza?” He offered

“Pizza. I’ll start the car.” Gwen grabbed the keys and went to wait for her boyfriend, her hand in her pocket felt the velvet box that held her and David’s future.

The drive to the parlour was short. The couple enjoyed a quick meal of cheesy, greasy pizza then headed out for Davids favourite hiking trail. It was a moderate one. Nothing like the roots and cliffs at Camp Campbell.

Gwen allowed David to excitedly drag her out of the car and towards the trail. She had the way to the clearing memorized by now. Before heading up Gwen quickly checked her pocket for the ring and tissues. For David. Because she knew he’d cry. Definitely not for her.

As they progressed through the hike Gwens rah of sunshine chattered on about his day. How class went, the people at work. Max begrudgingly calling him from band camp just to let David know he was still alive.

As the pair walked David eventually ran out of topics to discuss. He went to reach for Gwens hand only to find it was in her pocket. Odd. They always held hands on their hikes. Maybe she was cold?


“Yes Gwen?” He yelped as Gwen grabbed his arm and dragged him to the clearing. This was it. She was really going to do this. Gwen suddenly became hyper aware of the sweat on her hands. Shit, were they like this when she held David? And was her heart usuay beating this fast after a hike?


It was now or never.

She took his hand in hers ignoring her minds screaming about her cold clammy hands.

“David. We’ve dated for three years. We’ve kept lil shits from dying and somehow managed to run a camp that was in shambles.” David didn’t know where Gwen was going with this, but nodded. It seemed like she had something important to say.

“Look…you….you put up with my bullshit ontop of Max’s and well…’re great okay? The best fucking boyfriend I’ve ever had.” Damnit, she was rambling. What happened to the eloquent speech she had written in her head? Ah, fuck it. She might as well be blunt.

“I want you to marry me.” Gwen let go of Davids hands to pull out the box that held the simple ring. Her heart leaped in her throat as she waited for her boyfriend reaction.

“….I….I….Gwen are you sure?”

“I bout you a fucking ring, what do you think?”

“B-but…I-I’m not buff.”

“Easier to hug you.”

“I’m not good at being tough.”

“Not true. Kids told me about Jacob.” David winced at that. Gwen internally cursed.

“I’m not manly…..” Gwen’s eye twitched. Was he serious?

“David.” She grabbed his hand and jammed the ring on his finger. “I don’t fucking care. I’m man enough for the both of us.” David stared at her for three seconds before the tears poured out. He threw his arms around her chanting, “yes, yes yes! Of course I’ll marry you!” Rolling her eyes Gwen grabbed the tissued and dabbed away her crybaby boyfriends tears. She kissed him on both eyes, his nose, his chin, then finally on the mouth. She then smirked.

“Any chance I can convince you to wear a veil?” She cackled at the adorable blush dusting her fiances face. “C'mon.” She took his arm and pulled him down the trail. “Let’s get back before your tears fucking freeze.”

I’m seeing an AU…

  Derek spotted Stiles across the store, leaning on a display case of jewelry. Derek had come by to buy his usual five pack of nondescript Hanes t shirts and leave. After the latest battle with this week’s Big Bad, Derek was running low on shirts and unless he wanted to do laundry every other day, he’d have to face the outside world.

  It was supposed to be a simple in and out kind of venture but then he saw Stiles. Stiles who was now rambling amicably with the saleswoman behind the counter. His hands flail and his eyes are bright and the woman must know him for the way she smiles fondly even as she rolls her eyes. Well, he may as well keep an eye on pack, sticking around for a few more minutes won’t kill him. Just looking out for the kid.

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