it was mid-afternoon, somewhere far enough past lunch that sleepiness was starting to settle in. alec’s limbs felt heavy as he sat on the couch and he knew he had been paying attention to reading his book at some point, but at some point the even lines of text had gone blurry and unfocused. the maple syrup light wasn’t helping, neither was the slow tick of the clock, but worse of all was the way magnus was lit up by the sun.
his left side was all alight, the sun cutting up his sharp jaw and his cheekbone, burning up the tips of his spiked up hair. he had been working on a potion for the past hour, his face set in tense concentration, every single movement he made so particular. he measured ingredients with studied focus, his brows furrowed and amidst it all the sunlight kept glinting on his rings and the chain hanging from his fitted waistcoat.
alec found himself mesmerized, lips pursed and his gaze a little out of focus as magnus tapped on vials and sifted through ingredients. he was so handsome like this, the planes of his face set in determination, but it really wasn’t just how he looked. it was his focus, a palpable thing settled next to him in the room. it was his knowledge, the fact that he did all of this freehand and knew exactly what he was doing. it left alec wondering so many things. but he knew better than to interrupt magnus when he was working. which was why he didn’t say anything when he closed his book and pushed himself up off of the couch, starting towards the kitchen.
he was idly adjusting his shirt when magnus’s voice echoed in the stillness of the loft and brought him to a halt near one of the brick pillars.
“where are you going, pretty boy?” magnus’s voice was deep and warm, like it always was, but that wasn’t what made alec break into a big smile, his cheeks warming. it was those two words, catching him off guard as they always did.
i’m rewatching hlv and sherlock's mind palace is all cold and lit up in bluish white while he’s dying but as soon as the name “john watson” is mentioned the whole place is lit up in warm sunlight because /john is sherlock's sun/ oh my godddddd
John is the world to Sherlock… it hurts so much how Sherlock loves John. I absolutely love this… Thinking of John – Sherlock’s conductor of light – returns the light into his darkness. He wanted to die, but he loves John so much, and can’t let John suffer his death again. John not only is his conductor of light, but his conductor of LIFE.
We’ve all heard of “lucky pennies.” It’s a superstition that has woven its way so far into our society we often forget to acknowledge it as magick. This is a simple enchantment of sorts to bring luck and wealth into your life.
You will need:
A penny (if your currency doesn’t use pennies, use whatever coin is “lucky” in your culture, if any, or any copper coin, or gold if copper is unavailable)
A sharpie (fine point is better)
A white candle (this one is a must)
A gold candle (optional)
Works best during a waning moon but will work any time
Pennies are said to be lucky, and the copper/gold color represents wealth and success and ambition, so that makes pennies the perfect choice for both luck and wealth! Waning moons are also great times for luck spells.
It’s said a penny found heads-up is lucky. For this reason, I drew the following sigil on the front: (credit: I found it on tumblr, saved it to my phone and i can’t remember where I found it. If anyone can direct me to the OP I will credit them! So sorry for this!)
If you use one candle, light it at the back of your workspace and draw the sigils in front of it. If you use two, light them on the right and left sides and work between them.
If you do this during a waning moon, do it after dark by candlelight. Otherwise do it during the day in a room well lit by sunlight.
Flip the coin several times, being careful to catch it each time, while visualizing yourself having all the luck and money you need (and perhaps the areas of life you need the extra luck, or the things you need the money for, or how you expect/want to come by the money, etc). Feel free to add any kind of chant here, if you like.
Hold the penny between your fingers and hold it over the white candle as close to the flame as you can comfortably withstand to purify the enchantment (prevent accidental bad luck, and prevent you from getting tainted money). If you have a gold candle, do the same to it to strengthen the wealth and ambition.
Leave the penny overnight in the waning moonlight to charge if possible, otherwise for a day in the sunlight (best if its a sunny day.)
Carry the penny with you in your shoe everywhere you go. Walking will help keep the sigils charged. Also, carrying a coin in your shoe is a common method to bring money into your life.
This has absolutely nothing to do with Forbidden Lovers ~ It’s it’s own thing I guess XD
Um, yeah, just had this idea randomly, hope you guys enjoy it XD
~ * ~
Her soft, brown hair trickled over her shoulder like a gentle waterfall, the slight bump as it fell over her breast and pooled next to her slender hips. The early morning sunlight lit up her face, exaggerating and softening her features in all the right places.
There truly wasn’t any other words to describe her.
With her sitting a few feet away from him it was difficult to focus on the report he was supposed to be writing. Sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye, he really couldn’t help the dorky smile on his face.
Definitely a welcomed distraction.
The book in her hand dangled on her finger tips, unread, her eyes had a far away look as she gazed out the open door.
“Everything alright, Doll?” He finally asked when a little sigh left her cherry colored lips.
“Yes … Maybe …” Her mumbling answer did nothing to ease his concern.
“Wanna talk about it? I’m all ears.”
A grunt was her only response as she opened her book once more, giving her full and undivided attention.
Something was definitely off.
He wanted to press more, find her enchanting smile. The twinkle in her eyes when she laughed could outshine any star in the sky. Her joy was his medicine. Her sorrow was his death.
But there was no coaxing her or she would crawl deeper into her shell. Only time would allow her to open up to him, when, if, she was ready.
The brush felt incredibly heavy in his hand, the ink a hundred times darker, the page much duller.
Busy pouting over over sheet of paper, he was completely oblivious to her stare.
Her pretty eyes peeking at him from under thick, dark lashes. They quickly when back to her book.
For a moment there was only the sound of page turning and a brush on paper.
“I think I’m in love-”
Shigezane had a rather difficult time processing what had just come out of her pretty little mouth. The splintered peices of the brush fell out of his hand.
“Uh, hm, really.” Something thick was lodged in his throat making his voice sound scratchy and horce. When did it get so hot in here?
“He must be quite a guy to have cought your eye.” A smile had never hurt so much.
Damn his family.
Hell, damn his cow.
He stiffly brushed the broken peices of the bush to the side.
“He is.” A bashfuly glow lit her cheeks, her eyes stayed glued to her hands. That smile he loved, he now grudgingly realised, was for someone else.
“I just can’t stop thinking about him.” The girlish giggle made him smile, even if he could feel it chipping away at his heart.
“Well, who’s the lucky chap, maybe I know him?”
He didn’t want to know.
He did want to know.
“You do. Your very close to him.” She still hadn’t met his eyes.
Probably for the best. He wasn’t sure how well he was hiding his conflict right now.
He did his best to sound intrigued in meeting him, but all he could think about was giving him a good fist to the face.
She began tracing patterns on the floor, a dreamy look in her eyes.
What he’d give to be able to make a girl look like that. Preferably her.
“He’s just so captivating to watch, especially when he spars. He has a great build.” She covered her face, her blush taking on a much redder tone.
Shigezane subconsciously felt his biceps flex. He’d never been one to be jealous over another man being more well built than him, but he sure as hell was now.
“He’s so sweet to me too. He calls me a cute name, and it just makes me feel all fluttery inside.”
He didn’t know what it was about that but it left a nasty tast on his tongue. Curiosity and the need to hit something began to burn stronger.
“It’s Kojuro, isn’t it?”
“What? No. He’s far to old for me.” She giggled. “He’s my age.”
He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she had said yes.
“Actually, he’s quite close to Lord Masamune, he’s related to him actually.”
This bastard … Was related to him!?
Fate was cruel indeed.
“He lives here?”
“No, but he visits alot.” She was twirling a strand of hair on her finger. “He has a wonderful sense of humor.”
“I bet he dose.” It came out much harsher than he had ment to, but with her high spirits she hardly noticed.
“So are you gonna tell me who he is?”
He just needed to know.
“I’m sure you can guess by now, Shigezane.” She stood up, hands clasped behind her she stepped outside. “When you do, could you tell him I’m waiting in the garden, please?” She smiled sweetly over her shoulder.
“Of course.” It hurt to swallow.
Shigezane stared at the wall as he listened to her footsteps fade.
What else could he have said?
No, because, I think I’m in love too … ?
He rested his forhead aganst the table, his arms encircling around him. A moment … Just for a moment, he wanted to pretend that conversation did not just happen.
She’s waiting for him.
And he was supposed to go calmly tell her lover that.
And he would. He would do anything for her.
Of course he’d do as she asked … Then beat the shit out if him in a sparing match.
The thought healed a little of his broken heart.
The question was, who was he going to beat the shit out of?
He was here age, which also ment, his age. He was probably some inexperienced dolt who didn’t know how to treat a woman right.
There were many young men his age that could be her possible lover, but none of them where related to Masamune, or him for that matter.
Honestly, the only person who even fit her description was him.
His rested his head on his arm, pushing around the brush peices. He was happy for her, he really was. She was a smart girl, so whom ever she has set her heart on must have been a man worth her time. He only hoped that this wouldn’t end with he-
His hand stopped as his mind back tracked.
The only person who fit that description … Was him.
Related to Lord Masamune.
Dosent live in the castle but visits regularly-
His feet slide on the veranda as he shot out. Briefly apologizing to the maid he had terrified he swiftly hops the railing.
Shigezane didn’t think he’d ever ran that fast in his life.
~ * ~
OK THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A FUNNY FIC BUT MY FINGERS JUST WENT AND TURNED IT REAL ANGSTY
The next one I post with have zero angst. Just fluff and maybe some sexy action 😉
morning sunlight was filtering in through the open doors of the balcony, catching on the beautiful leaves of all of their plants and all shiny and golden and beautiful. magnus had been up for an hour, going through emails on his phone as he dressed and got himself ready for the day. the sun had greeted him bright and cheery, spilling in through the big windows and drenching the loft in pale orange and soft gold.
by now though, magnus’s emails were sorted and he was sat by himself on one of the couches, leaning against the cushions on the arm with a book cradled against his knee and a mug of tea in his other hand. the steam that wafted off of it kept catching in the bright shards of sunlight, catching on the rings that adorned magnus’s fingers, especially the gold one that sat on his left ring finger with two initials carved into the soft metal.
everything had been quiet for a while now as his eyes scanned the page. it was a book of spells he’d loaned from catarina, an old one worn at the edges, a mix of languages old and new. he was looking for a spell in particular, one he wanted to try and expand on, possibly alter entirely before his clients showed up for the day. but when he heard shifting sheets and a soft grunt in the other room he paused reading, glancing back over his shoulder towards the bedroom.
IM SO SORRY BUT THE IDEA OF PLUCKIJG PHILS FLOWER BROUGHT ME TO THAT AKDDJSKFS
I FEEL LIKE THAT WOULD HURT HIM THOUGH IDK. Like, maybe if Phil intrinsically felt that certain petals were about to fall off, he’d let Dan help him..
As the companions traversed through the woodland (this time a more brightly lit passage, with beams of sunlight criss-crossing through the open canopy), he noticed a petal loosely hanging from Phil’s sunflower. Curious, he thought.
“Do your petals just fall off naturally then?” Dan asked lightly, staring at the flower.
Phil blushed - whenever Dan asked about his sunflower he always felt it was a bit, erm, intimate for some reason. “Yes,” he said, smiling at his friend. “Like hair strands! Why, is there a loose one?” He stopped walking, reaching behind him with one hand, feeling for the loose pedal.
Dan halted his steps as well. “You can’t feel it? The loose one? It’s seriously about to fall off.”
Phil smiled and shrugged. “Can you feel a strand of your hair about to fall out?”
The Dark Elf frowned and shrugged on shoulder. “I guess not. But…” His hands twitched. For some reason he just really wanted to tug at the petal - it was just dangling there! “Can I - would you mind - I just really want to - um,” he trailed off, feeling his own face flush.
Phil’s eyes widened as he realized what his friend was asking. He cleared his throat, ignoring how his heart hammered. No one had ever touched his flower before (it had only recently come into existence!), and - and this was Dan, the very reason he had a flower now. “Erm, if it’ll help ease your distraction, I suppose? Sure?” He tried to inject nonchalance into his voice, but really he felt his whole body trembling.
Thankful that he was slightly taller than his companion, Dan closed the gap between him and Phil. He removed the glove from his left hand - if he was going to touch the elf’s flower, he wanted to feel the soft texture of the petal on his fingertips. He didn’t know when he’d get another chance. He softly gripped the loose petal between thumb and index finger, and as gently as possible, tugged it free. He saw Phil’s shoulders flinch slightly.
“Ah, sorry, was that painful?” Dan asked, stepping back around front. His eyebrows raised at the look of his friend. “Uh, Phil? You okay?”
Phil’s entire face was flushed rose red. “Y-yes!” he squeaked. “Let’s, um, keep going, yes? Got - got a lot of ground to cover!” He cleared his throat and resumed walking.
Dan huffed out an amused chuckle, shook his head in fond amusement, and took a step forward.
OH MY GOD WHAT JUST HAPPENED - wine has made my fingers loose lol.
Whatever you do DON’T imagine Aaron Burr singing “Empty Chairs and Empty Tables” from Les Miserables.
Just- Aaron Burr, wandering listlessly through the streets after the duel, his eyes glazed over. Somebody tells him “you better hide,” so he ducks inside the nearest building and… it’s the tavern where they all first met. He can see the “table in the corner” where “we talked of revolution, here it was we lit the flame” and the sunlight is slanting in through the window illuminating the empty chairs at the empty table and he silently slides into a seat. He smells like gunpowder. “I get a drink.”
“Phantom faces at the window…” Lafayette is back in France; they haven’t spoken much since the war and certainly won’t now. “Phantom shadows on the floor…” Laurens rests under the earth peacefully somewhere in South Carolina, a brave life cut short. “Empty chairs at empty tables…” Hamilton… Burr wonders if those awful rasping gasps have stopped yet, if he had just waited one more minute… “Where my friends will meet no more…” And he doesn’t even want to think about Mulligan, the tailor will turn away from him in disgust for the rest of his days after this betrayal.
“Oh my friends - my friends - don’t ask me! What your sacrifice was for. Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will sing no more.”
i overcame myself for no longer am i quiet. i let my soul fight its misery and i finally bled poetry. i sat at the table with my sadness and learned its last name. And now when i meet her again, i know how to welcome her — and how to close the door properly when she leaves. She no longer robs me of my heart: she has her own place in it. i learned how to speak with a scarred tongue about how i won. i no longer hate love, i became it. i no longer think love leaves you, touches you or betrays you. People do and will always do. i am learning that not only my body is temple but so is my name. And since i honoured it, the universe did too. My tongue speaks now of an unbearable pain i still carry but this time with the ability to fight back. i used to think i would always remain a flower but i am becoming sun. For no longer am i only blossoming and blooming, i am also passing it on to others. i am sharing the experience my eyes never spoke of. i am sharing my sunrays with broken flowers. i am their sunlight. i am the poetry to their sorrow. Sun, sunrays sunlight: that’s me. Sometimes i still tend to turn dark inside but there’s a moon to every sun. i might stay dark longer at some points of time but know that where a moon stands high, a brighter sun is preparing to shine.
When Harry first moved into the peaceful town from somewhere in the North of England, he did it for the safe and soothing feeling he had whenever he went out for a walk and for the lack of noise and stress he always witnessed in London. But now, the restlessness found him even here, at the end of his small world.
And everything started on that Monday morning.
After a whole week of planning his flit, Harry was relieved to finally move into his new home on the afternoon of the last Sunday, but since he was too tired to even move a muscle, he settled on the couch for the rest of the evening and watched the telly until he fell asleep with the thought that on Monday he will walk around the neighborhood and possibly talk with his friends.
What he didn’t expect to find, was a flower shop with white walls and a tiled floor.
right so im probably really gay for this but i was thinking about alec and magnus walking around the institute talking and turning corners and without realizing it suddenly ending up at the doors of the church where they first kissed- was that inside the institute too? whatever- and deciding to go inside and there'd be something about the lighting that would bring back old feelings and spark new ones too...
it was a wednesday and the institute was bathed in that hazy multicolored glow it always had in the middle of the day. the light spilled through the stained glass windows in thick shards, making everything fuzzier as those bright colors pooled on everything. in the main rooms it was busy, the bustle making it hard to appreciate the beautiful light, but they had been walking for a while and by now they had found a part of the institute that was still and almost peaceful.
magnus wasn’t sure when it had gotten so quiet. they had started walking to talk over the plans for a mission, elbow to elbow. but as they got deeper into the institute, their fingers brushed and magnus glanced at alec, watching the easy smile that pulled at his lips. before long they were holding hands, their fingers entwined. and at some point the conversation had switched from work to what they were having for dinner and then all that conversation had gotten lost entirely in the quiet hum of the deeper areas of the institute.
all that was left was calm silence, a warm kind of silence that wrapped around them, the kind of silence humming between the shafts of pink light that were catching on the edges of their faces and burning against their twined fingers as magnus’s thumb stroked the side of alec’s hand. back here the institute felt like a place of quiet reverence and not an army base. it felt like a place of quiet reflection, of peace and calm. but that wasn’t what magnus was thinking about.
Since today is Matthew and Stephs 5th wedding anniversary... Anniversary cuddles? ~🌸
For a second, Matthew almost didn’t want to wake Stephanie up. The way the morning light was gently filtering through the curtains almost seemed to make her skin glow sunkissed and summery and her hair looked streaked with gold and mahogany and a million shades of deep, rich brown and softer highlights of bronze and copper and a beautiful colour Matthew would struggle to describe beyond calling it ‘Stephanie’. She looked like something ethereal and otherworldly, like a faery or an angel or something precious and beautiful and untouchable.
Even then, Matt couldn’t stop himself from reaching a soft hand towards her face and gently stroking a thumb over the curve of her cheek. She felt warm and comforting and if home ever had to be condensed into a single being, Matthew knew it would look like his sleeping wife.
“Hey sleepyhead.” He whispered, feeling her shift and begin to wake from him careful touches. Stephanie rolled over to face him and Matthew felt the breath get knocked out of him as two sleepy brown eyes looked up at him, the light making them practically glow a rainbow of rich browns as she looked up at him. “Hey yourself.” Steph replied in a tired, rusty voice. Even while still half asleep, Matt smiled at the way she tilted her head to lean into his touch and he let the palm of his hand come to rest on her cheek. “Happy anniversary, honey.”
Five years wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things. In the face of a potential 80-90 years of life, five years was nothing. It was a blink, a shrug, a sentence in a vast and incomprehensible book. It was inconsequential. But Matthew knew that, regardless, he wouldn’t trade the last five years for anything. “You’re so beautiful when you wake up.” He said, letting a hint of awe slip into his voice as his eyes traced the soft curve of her eyelashes and the slow, sleepy smile she gave him.
“You’re beautiful too.” Steph’s hand lifted off the mattress and Matt felt a warmth in his chest as her fingers traced the line of his nose, the shadows of too many late nights working that showed under his eyes, the tips tickling over morning stubble before she gently grabbed him by the chin and pulled him in for a slow, sleepy kiss that seems to melt Matt’s bones and leave him star struck and dizzy. “I love you.” Matthew more felt than heard the words, low and soft with tiredness, against his lips. “I love you too.” He replied, pulling Stephanie close to him and revelling in the way she fit so perfectly into his arms he wondered how he was ever comfortable holding anyone else.
“Sleeping time, work later.” He heard Steph mumble, her head resting on his chest right over his heart. “Sounds good to me, love. Sweet dreams.” Matthew said and felt his chest tighten as Stephanie tugged one of his arms away from their spot wrapped around her and laced her fingers with his. ‘I hope I never have to wake up in the morning without Stephanie beside me.’ He thought tiredly, letting his eyes drift closed. 'I can’t wait to celebrate 10 years of marriage.’
Just the shadow of my hair,
And the tree over it,
Made it darker.
While the sunlight hit my other eye.
But with it I saw you.
And the light shown brightest,
Where you were.
And in your light,
Was where I needed to be.