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Shortly afterwards, Sherlock was banned from online dating for the foreseeable future.
#sherlock#dating#mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself#talent instantly recognises genius#benedict cumberbatch#ghosting#sherlock holmes
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If Basil's name is actually a reference to The Picture of Dorian Gray's Basil, that'd unintentionally parallel Sunny with Hallward's main love interest, the eponymous Dorian Gray. Which... isn't exactly a parallel you'd want to make.
TPoDG begins with comparing Gray to Narcissus, the man who fell in love with his own reflection he saw in a lake and didn't leave that lake until he died. He's also, obviously, the origin of the term "narcissist."
“Too much of yourself in it! Upon my word, Basil, I didn’t know you were so vain; and I really can’t see any resemblance between you, with your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves. Why, my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus..."
— The Picture of Dorian Gray, chapter 1, page 9
Indeed, the book then proceeds to outline Dorian as a narcissist over the course of its story and reinforce the connection to the myth. Not only does he instantly fall in love with Basil's portrait of him...
A look of joy came into his eyes, as if he had recognised himself for the first time. He stood there motionless and in wonder, dimly conscious that Hallward was speaking to him, but not catching the meaning of his words. The sense of his own beauty came on him like a revelation. He had never felt it before.
— Ch. 2, p. 32
...but he also spends quite some time admiring it, getting compared to Narcissus again in the process.
Once, in boyish mockery of Narcissus, he had kissed, or feigned to kiss, those painted lips that now smiled so cruelly at him.
— Ch. 7, p. 118-119
In addition to this, Gray demonstrates a flagrant disregard for others. At one point, he falls in love with Sybil Vane, a young theatre actress, mainly due to her talent, and then quickly leaves her after she fails to impress him.
"Then he leaped up, and went to the door. "Yes," he cried, "you have killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don't even stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect. I loved you because you were marvellous, because you had genius and intellect, because you realised the dreams of great poets and gave shape and substance to the shadows of art. You have thrown it all away. You are shallow and stupid. My God! how mad I was to love you! What a fool I have been! You are nothing to me now. I will never see you again. I will never think of you. I will never mention your name. You don't know what you were to me, once. Why, once... Oh, I can't bear to think of it! I wish I had never laid eyes upon you! You have spoiled the romance of my life. How little you can know of love, if you say it mars your art! Without your art you are nothing. I would have made you famous, splendid, magnificent. The world would have worshipped you, and you would have borne my name. What are you now? A third-rate actress with a pretty face.""
— Ch. 7, p. 98-99
Upon learning Vane killed herself over the break-up, Gray convinces himself that her suicide was just a "sacrifice" and her atonement for the bad theatre performance that caused him to break up with her.
Poor Sybil! what a romance it had all been! She had often mimicked death on the stage. Then Death himself had touched her, and taken her with him. How had she played that dreadful last scene? Had she cursed him, as she died? No; she had died for love of him, and love would always be a sacrament to him now. She had atoned for everything, by the sacrifice she had made of her life. He would not think any more of what she had made him go through, on that horrible night at the theatre. When he thought of her, it would be as a wonderful tragic figure sent on to the world's stage to show the supreme reality of Love.
— Ch. 7, p. 118
Finally, the aforementioned disregard for others culminates in Dorian stabbing Hallward to death after the latter desperately tries to reason with him and insults the titular picture in the process.
"Hush! don't say that. You have done enough evil in your life. My God! don't you see that accursed thing leering at us?" Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it, and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him, and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man's head down on the table, and stabbing again and again.
— Ch. 13, p. 176
Quite a pleasant fellow, isn't he?
What makes the Sunny-Dorian parallel troubling is that Sunny seems to exhibit some of Gray's behaviors (minus the portrait-kissing lmao). He's implied to love his friends only because of the affection they can provide him with, shown to disregard their feelings by choosing to lie to them by omission, shown to disregard Basil's life (as evidenced by him considering leaving the latter to his death as a legitimate option) and tells the truth just to get his weight off his shoulders right before skipping town. One more thing worthy of note is the fact the Neutral ending cutscene where Sunny looks at Basil's corpse was titled "Not Your Problem" in the 2019 build of the game.
Funnily enough, both OMORI's narrative and Gray share the mindset of "thinking equals doing" - Dorian expects his malformed portrait to change back and become beautiful again just because he thought of being a better person without having actually done anything himself, and the narrative of OMORI equates Sunny watering Basil's plants in his fake dream world with having done a tangibly beneficial deed for the real Basil.
The difference here, of course, is that TPoDG's narrative is quick to mock Gray for wanting a prize for basic decency.
As he thought of Hetty Merton, he began to wonder If the portrait in the locked room had changed. Surely it was not still so horrible as it had been? Perhaps if his life became pure, he would be able to expel every sign of evil passion from the face. Perhaps the signs of evil had already gone away. He would go and look. He took the lamp from the table and crept upstairs. As he unbarred the door a smile of joy flitted across his strangely young-looking face and lingered for a moment about his lips. Yes, he would be good, and the hideous thing that he had hidden away would no longer be a terror to him. He felt as if the load had been lifted from him already. He went in quietly, locking the door behind him, as was his custom, and dragged the purple hanging from the portrait. A cry of pain and indignation broke from him. He could see no change, save that In the eyes there was a look of cunning, and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of the hypocrite.
— Ch. 20, p. 245-246 OMORI's narrative, on the other hand, offers no such rebuke. Sunny isn't framed as the Villain Protagonist the way Gray was; in fact, the secret cutscene you unlock by watering the plants is meant to be a post-credit scene of sorts to the the game's True ending.
You know the writing's Peak when its sense of morality can be easily compared to that of a character explicitly modeled after Narcissus.
And to those who accuse me of overthinking stuff, I can assure you that I'm merely taking this game as seriously as it wants me to :)
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Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....
Not at all! Thanks for asking!😊 Made me realise how hard it actually is to restrict yourself to 10 characters🙈
1) Zoro (One Piece)
I liked Zoro the moment I saw him for the first time in the anime. The character design, his fighting style, his badassery combined with his goofy moments persuaded me instantly. What made me fall in love with him was his commitment to his friends and his unyielding will to fight for his dream. Also: Always putting himself in the crossfire to protect his nakama and is prepared to do the hardest choices, because it’s the right thing to do. Just✨
2) Naruto (Naruto)
Me and Naruto didn’t click at first. The snotty, troublemaking brat, who didn’t seem to have respect for anything or anyone was annoying. That turned around rather quickly once the Zabuza Arc came around and suddenly I realised why Naruto acted the way he did. Him just wanting to be recognised by the people and find his place among them was as heartbreaking as it was powerful. This combined with his will to achieve his dream no matter how many setbacks and what everyone else told him, plus his good heart despite how people treated him, absolutely made me adore him.
3) Jack Sparrow
I think what attracted me the most apart from Johnny Depp‘s performance was his cleverness, his antics and the „thief with a heart of gold“-trope. Everything Jack does is for his one and only treasure: freedom. He is prepared to do everything he can for it but not at the expense of other people‘s lives. I think Elizabeth was spot on when she called him an „honourable man“. He is one of those characters I could watch doing the most mundane activities and never get bored.
4) Luke Skywalker
I‘ve been a Star Wars fan ever since I was 7 years old. I don’t remember why I wanted to be Luke at the playground apart from the fact that he was Jedi but as an adult I‘d say Luke represents what we all should strive to be: selfless, helping others, believing that there is a good that’s worth fighting for. At least in the OT he never abandoned his friends or family and that’s what I liked about him the most. He was optimistic, never gave up and fought for what he believed was right. I’m sucker for those kind of characters 🧡
5) Hermione Granger
Growing up with Harry Potter I admired Hermione: bookworm, hard-working, talented but not a born genius, stubborn, ordinary looking. Her resourcefulness, her intelligence, her commitment to her studies and her friends despite her obvious flaws was something I really liked about her. She could be condescending, cunning, almost cruel at times, but for the most part she was a ride or die friend, willing if necessary to die for Harry.
6) Jaime Lannister (GoT)
I think Jaime is one of the best written characters in pop culture and one of the best examples of a subversion done right. George R.R. Martin made me despise him in the beginning only to show me along the way that Jaime despite his crimes, actually is one of the few who deserve to be called a „knight of the seven kingdoms“. The core of his character is to protect the innocent but his duty is to his family. I really started to like him during his travels with Brienne. He is willing to sacrifice everything for his family and for Cersei without a second thought and that’s both his biggest virtue and his biggest flaw. The tragedy of it all is so good.
7) Loki
I still don’t know if it’s the Shakespearean aspect of the character itself or the Shakespearean vibes Tom Hiddleston brought to the character but I fell hard for Loki. The tragedy is what fascinated me the most, the idea that some of us are pushed on a certain path due to circumstances and then this path unfortunately speaks to our dark side and we stray away from the light. Also the need to be recognised by your friends, family, the community is something we all experience in our life. Maybe even the need to surpass expectations because you just feel that you have to do something great, something meaningful even thinking that this will give you the attention and connection you are craving.
8) Werther (The Sufferings of Young Werther)
Werther is one of those characters I didn’t particular like when we read the book back in school, because apart from the unrequited love aspect I couldn’t identify with any of his other problems. That started to change during my mid twenties. Times started to change and they changed too quickly for me to catch up. Then you have your family’s expectation, your own and society’s and suddenly you realise that there is no way out, that you can’t spend the rest of your days reading books and wandering around. You have to take responsibility. You have to do something useful even if it’s not the job you actually want to do. I think there are a lot of problems when you are young which turn out to be insignificant once you’ve reached a certain age and that’s one of things Goethe realized in his later years when he was asked about Werther. Werther suffered needlessly. Now when I read the book it breaks my heart because you can see so clearly all the moments and opportunities Werther had to turn around and change his mind. But he just couldn’t.
9) Spike (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
I mean: a sarcastic, sassy, poetry loving, bleach blond, leather coat wearing vampire…do I need to say more? The coolness factor was off the charts when Spike was introduced as a new antagonist. He was cunning, ruthless, fearless but also loyal, funny and even without a soul more human when some of the humans around him. It really annoyed me when they reduced him to a comic relief in later seasons. His fate was to be a hopeless romantic who was used by all the women he admired, fell in love with and was fiercely loyal to. That just sucked. On the one hand I admired his conviction. He even got his soul back just because he thought Buffy would then love him. On the other hand I wished he would have just walked away from everything.
10) Hannibal Lecter (TV Series)
It’s the complexity and deep dive into the human psyche that attracted me to this character as portrayed in the TV series. Generally speaking I think people who don’t bother with the limitations set by society, who follow their own rules and who don’t see anything wrong with killing because it comes natural to them, is something we are fascinated by. The ruthlessness and inhumane behaviour shocks and disgusts us and yet there is also something about it that makes us want to understand. The way Hannibal seemed to manipulate everyone around him (even Will) and at the same time was just cruelly honest about who and what he was, was addictive. A predator in human skin.
#naruto#one piece#Hannibal#Harry Potter#johann wolfgang von goethe#Loki#GoT#a song of ice and fire#ask me#potc#buffy the vampire slayer#star was
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"It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important"
"Intuitions are not to be ignored John. They represent data processed too fast for the concious mind to comprehend.
"To a great mind, nothing is little."
"Never trust the general impressions,my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details."
"I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logicion all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one's self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one's own powers.".
"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
"Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognises genius."
"Never theorize before you have data. Invariably you end up twisting facts to suit theories instead of theories to suit facts."
"Stress ruins every day of your life while death ruins only one."
Photo credits- @thekrusader
#sherlock holmes#currently reading#literature#books & libraries#bookblr#reading#books and reading#writers#arthur conan doyle#photography#bookshelf#new books#art#tumblr pics#quotes#book quotes
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particles x damon albarn
the lyrics to this song are genuinely so beautiful, like i honestly cannot describe enough how much i adore this song my goodness
Pairing: present day damon x reader
Warnings: none :D
Word count: 1.881
Requested by anon <3
༉‧₊˚✧
It had been two months since I had last seen him. Two whole months since he had set foot in our home; two whole months since he said goodbye to leave for tour. The home that we shared had began to inhabit a sense of eeriness, some nights the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, trapping me from any interaction with the outside world, as if to hold me hostage by my own insanity, although other nights the space felt extremely large, almost too big for one person to be able to waste their nights alone in, encapsulating my mind in a constant conflict of obstructive thoughts, forcing me to overthink every tiny detail that was conveyed on the pale stained walls, the wooden floorboards, the arrangement of the furniture, resulting in many a time of me moving around heavy tables and chairs until the image of the room settled my mind’s anxiety. Allowing distance to get in the lines of mine and Damon’s relationship, it was simply uncanny that I was going to miss him; he was the carcass that kept me sane, the being that granted me peace in myself, ease on my mind to prevent such mania from enrapturing my brain, the person that engulfed me into a stupor of adoration and affection that one could never understand the authentic strength until felt - what some perceive as paramour, true love, something so overstimulating that once separated such thing desperation beguiles you to surround yourself with, only a mere sensation of emptiness is all that is felt inside, as if your limbs are damaged, your insides constantly in a state of sickness that you are convinced you’re in need of some form of professional assistance, but it is simply the alchemy, the poison of the apprehension that captivates you from the estrangement from your significant other. Though that wasn’t to say that wasn’t proud of Damon; I embraced fondness and admiration for everything that he did and was so dedicated in doing, his talent and immense knowledge for the art form that speaks to you demonstrated his ability to move millions of people, uniting as one in concerts, all touched from the same, simple string of melodies, proving his true gift and genius that is inside his brain.
I tried to pry my thoughts away from the excitement that had been seeping into my veins from the fact that he was returning home today, in an attempt to focus my mind on whatever had been showing on the television, but there was no use. To be cradled in his arms was all that I had longed, the thought clouding my brain almost every single night that I had thrown my body onto the linen sheets, trying to wrap my body around the duvet to replicate the specific warmth that had enveloped my body when in his arms, his body completely dominating mine, his hands running through my hair gently, apologising with a kiss on the top of my head when he accidentally pulled too roughly, my face buried in his chest as a blush would suddenly creep onto my cheeks, our embrace fulfilling me with a nest of blooming butterflies in my body, a poignant sensation of nervousness and reverence for the man that had me cooped up in his arms, the same feelings that would embody you whilst walking past your first crush during primary school, accidentally brushing your hands against one another’s, sending your mind into overdrive as if to think that the person was the love of your life. Such emotions never left, and I doubted that they ever would; supposing that is true love, he could make me feel like a little girl squealing over her teenage idol because of how perfect he was, just from being himself.
“I’m home, love,” I heard a voice call out in the hallway, accompanied by the soft slam of the front door, the tone of voice lacing a certain amount of raspiness, perhaps from a cigarette that had just been inhaled. My head instantly turned to the door of the living room, eyes settling upon the sight of Damon, who had a small grin curved on his lips, his gaze captured with joy and desire, perhaps from gratification towards the understanding that the tour had finally ended, as well as the fact that he was able to finally see me once again - my expression equally reciprocating his happiness. Instantly jumping from my seat on the couch, I rushed over to him as I threw my arms around him, resting my ear against his chest, listening to the soft pattern of his heartbeat. As usual, his arms wrapped around my figure, tightly embracing my body, the swarm of butterflies breaking out of their cocoons, my limbs growing weak from the recognisable thrill of affection that I had desired for far too long, and had sadly not received. Feeling his lips grazing against the top of my head made my mind go fuzzy, my cheeks flushing a heat that made me feel as if I was under the beating warmth of the sun during the summer months. This is what he does to me. “How’ve you been darling? I see you’ve rearranged the place, again.��� he mumbled into my head of hair, my mind still relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms again.
“I’ve missed you,” I replied, reluctantly pulling my arms away from the embrace, in order to gawk at him. A gentle chuckle rumbled from his throat, though his features accentuated pity, understanding how I must’ve felt being away from him for so long. Lightly taking hold of one of his hands, I dragged his arm, guiding him to the sofa, where both of us sat next to each other. “You were gone for so long!”
“I know love, I’ve missed you so much,” he replied, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “At least I’m not gone for any longer though.” he added, his lips curving slightly as I nodded, a similar grin planted on my lips.
“How was the tour then?” I asked, pulling his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, my body already aching for more attachment to him. “The videos I’ve seen online made it look very good.”
“It was great, honestly. Loved every bit of it.” he replied, the grip on my shoulder tightening as he attempted to haul me closer to him. Humming in agreement, I placed my head on his shoulder, cradling the moment we shared together, the moment that I had imagined and adorned each and every night he was absent, cherishing every single time that he was able to be in my presence. I depended on him greatly, as did he, and though that may be a toxic strand which can only result in turmoil; our appreciation for one another held such poise that it would draw us closer together each and every time we had conjoined together after months of being separated. “I’ve actually got something to show you.” he added, shifting from our hug and slowly stepping to his feet, taking his hand in mine, his soft but coarse palms gripping onto mine ever so slightly, urging me to stand up too. “Come with me.”
Following him closely, we headed towards his studio. I had forgotten the last time that I had set foot in it; usually I would leave Damon to work on his craft alone, since having me prance around messing with all sorts of instruments and controls wasn’t going to provide much assistance. As well as that, sitting in the room, knowing that he was away and would be for many days on, would only make me yearn for his presence more, which is the last of what I would need when not being able to fall asleep. Though whenever he would call me into the room, he would always show me the most beautifully crafted symphony, in which he would perform it so effortlessly, as if it was simply created from the top of his head at that moment. Talent like his was so scarce; it would only prove to me that it’s something you are gifted with at birth, like an extremely high intelligence quotient - he always had ideas running through his mind, melodies that would be formed from a simple tap of the table in front of him. It was a wonder in the fact that he seemingly never got burned out with creating music, it was evidently his passion, and it touched me that he would constantly ask me for my opinion on his music, as it always resonated with him, always held such importance.
When we walked inside the studio, I followed him to the grand piano that was standing by the corner of the room. I kept my body upright, behind him, as he pulled out the black stool underneath, moving it back slightly in order for him to sit on it. “Over the tour, I had some free time, so I wrote this song, it’s called Particles,” he began, his voice quiet, as if it were intertwined with a certain anxiousness about what he was about to perform. “It’s still a work in progress, but I wanted to know what you thought of it.”
As I admired his fingers softly grazing the elegant, pale keys of the piano, the melody that in which played forth me instantaneously sufficed me in a trance, bewilderment encompassing my my mind as I listened to the sounds of the alluring chords echo throughout the room, bounce off the walls, the waves of noise crafting mountainous regions of goosebumps to prickle on the bare skin exposed from my forearms. Sculpted with such elegance and formality, my mouth fell agape as he played with such ease - in that significant moment, I was subdued to his music, hypnotised into his magnificence; I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, except admire the grace that fell from his lips once he started singing. As I allowed my gaze to drift onto his face, I gawked at his demeanour, his eyes almost screwed shut, his face almost frozen in place as his body rocked back and forth to the melody that was omitted from the piano. Every word, every string of lines carried a lugubrious essence to it, a tone laced with such beautification; obvious that there were deeper implications behind said lyrics. Each line that escaped his throat exemplified the nature of what earnest fervour, authentic devotion and expertise can embody. Such melody, paired with his voice embodied with pure ethereality, as if I was being greeted by a herd of the most quaint angels, welcoming my soul into the seven heavens. A beam crawled onto my lips, my heart thumping at a million miles per hour from the amount of love I carried in my body for the man in front of me.
Once the song ended, a moment was held in the atmosphere of mere silence, as if to take in all that was felt, all that had vibrated through the sound waves and blessed my ears. Shifting his body so he could connect eyes with me, a gentle, welcoming smile tugged on his lips. “That’s for you.”
#thank u anon <3333333#damon albarn x reader#damon albarn#blur#blur band#90s#britpop#gorillaz#my imagines#my writing#fanfic#fluff#fan fiction
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common blessings [joochan]
pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader
word count: 3.5k (!)
requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"
dedicated to @sahiflowers.
a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!
In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.
~
wonderboy.
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Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.
Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.
“Missed me?”
You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.
“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.
“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.
You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”
“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”
It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.
“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”
From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.
Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”
You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”
“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.
“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”
And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.
Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.
“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”
Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.
“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.
“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”
You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”
Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”
You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.
“Of course.”
*
fm.
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There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.
Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.
“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”
You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.
“Did you eat?”
Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.
You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”
“And just to see me, right?”
You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.
“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”
Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”
“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.
“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.
There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.
“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.
“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”
Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.
“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.
“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”
“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”
“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”
“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”
“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”
“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”
“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”
A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”
You blink down at Joochan. “What?”
“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"
“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.
“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”
Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.
“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.
*
enchanted.
-
You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.
“Hello?”
“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.
“Yeah, I am.”
“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”
And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)
“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.
You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.
“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”
“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.
“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.
And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.
“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.
“Who else?”
He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."
"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."
Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.
“But your violin”- you begin protesting.
“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”
“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.
Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.
The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.
“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.
“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”
He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.
The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.
There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.
“Joochan,” you murmur.
“Mm?”
“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”
Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”
“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.
“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”
You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”
Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.
“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.
“Why do you think we might not be okay?”
You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”
It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”
He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.
“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”
You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.
“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”
Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.
“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.
For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.
*
up, up and away.
-
There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.
So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.
The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.
“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”
You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.
It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.
After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.
-
if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!
#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED#golden child#golden child scenarios#golden child imagines#hong joochan#golden child hong joochan#golden child joochan#joochan#ju writes#gncd#golcha#im now off to go cry. or nap. both
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Asteroid Iris • The Rainbow Goddess ⭐🌈✨
Asteroid Iris(7) is the symbol of female intelligence (intuition) & is overlooked by so many astrologers. Where Iris sits in the birth chart shows where you must retain hope, be truthful & search for unity and healing. She symbolizes the light of pure consciousness in the astrological chart. A strong Iris connection is also a soul-mate indicator due to the authenticity & intuitive understanding of one other inherent in the bond it creates.
Iris in Aries/1st: Here, Iris denotes great beauty. She gives a swift, gentle, wise & versatile energy. Your communication style is very individualistic. Iris indicates having beautiful eyes & being able to communicate through them. (which are said to be the windows of the soul). You can communicate feelings telepathically just by gazing into your lover’s eyes. The Iris person is harmonious, intuitive, truthful & authentic. (Sasha Grey) / (Marilyn Monroe)
Iris in Taurus/2nd: Here, Iris teaches you valuable lessons about the transient nature of material possessions. As a result you place a high value on personal relationships, social issues & spiritual values. You’re likely to be an inspiration to others. You offer a hopeful perspective of opportunities for everyone to be sustained by the world’s resources. Your intuition is grounded in what is solidly real; you’re driven to ground an ideal vision. (Rachel Weisz) / (Queen Victoria)
Iris in Gemini/3rd: Here, Iris is concerned with the illumination & intuitive mind (right brain thinking). She represents hope, vitality & the power of communication via spiritual channels with the divine. You have an unusual mental connection & are able to easily intuit the real meaning behind words. Often, like the “Freudian slip” your own slips of the tongue, may reveal an unconscious truth ready to be revealed. (Kate Beckinsale) / (Ava Gardner)
Iris in Cancer/4th: Here, Iris seeks the promise of an exciting life somewhere else away from home. Her dreams are inspired by memories from past lives. You’re the intuitive psychic of the family, weaving eternal bonds amongst loved ones, subconsciously. You’re able to connect ancestral memories within your own psyche - immortalising yourself forever. You use your intuition to guide you to happiness. (Hedy Lamarr) / (Adriana Lima)
Iris in Leo/5th: Here, Iris is a brave explorer of the inner & higher realms. Your creativity is driven by a restless, questing preoccupation with the things of the mind, which can make you incredibly productive if you have a clear sense of what you’re doing. You spend your time in the delights of creating wisdom & in showing others how to imagine. Iris denotes great intuitive artistic talent. She also grants you unusually intuitive children. (Miley Cyrus) / (Lana Del Rey)
Iris in Virgo/6th: Here, Iris is inspired by the arts. Music plays a key role in tapping into your intuition. The harmonies & lyrics of favourite songs can instantly inspire you. You have a love of words and how they’re communicated. You’re intuitively interested in configurations, synchronicity, mysteries & patterns. You recognise that there’s a grand design & a destiny for humanity for which you detail meticulously in the landscape of your imagination. (Ella Purnell) / (Miranda Kerr)
Iris in Libra/7th: Here, Iris brings qualities of receptivity & awareness, and is strongly linked to the concept of Temperance – bringing harmony into an individual’s life based on the ability to adapt quickly & with conscience intelligence to bring the heart into balance. There is something very spacious and accommodating about your mind. Iris also points to truthfulness in relationships. You’re able to communicate authentically & with intuitive illumination to your lover. (Angelina Jolie) / (Amy Winehouse)
Iris in Scorpio/8th: Here, Iris is alive in your inner world with intense thoughts and feelings & it's colours are many interesting hues of dark. You may feel, or think (sometimes it can be almost the same thing) that you're responding to forces beyond your control. [The subtle realms of desire.] You can gain much insight into the deeper layers of the psyche, but this often involves pain, & may make you defensive. Your intuition is very powerful. (Margot Robbie) / (Eva Green)
Iris in Sagittarius/9th: Here, Iris expands the illumination of consciousness. You have the ability to embrace & comprehend everything. Of course you can get a bit carried away with fantasies about how you want things to be, instead of realising how they are. But truth will come out, sooner or later, & you have the grace to recognise when you've been wrong. You're an idealist & a traveler, and can help to fire up others with the quest to explore & know. (Gene Tierney) / (Isabella Rossellini)
Iris in Capricorn/10th: Here, Iris is on top form, her communication skills are fantastic & a source of great potential for worldly success. You have a particular gift for listening & being present, and taking in everything around you. Your intuition is most powerful when you are subordinate over others. This enables you to tune your responses to situations with particular skill & sensitivity, winning approvals & opening doors. (Princess Diana) / (Grace Kelly)
Iris in Aquarius/11th: Here, Iris is an original thinker. You’re an empathetic and caring friend, ready with advice and comfort. You’re popular with people from all walks of life. You’re a leader because of your ability to intuitively predict future trends. This makes you a brilliant psychic or an astrologer, or any field that requires intuitive thinking & new perspectives. You’re a true genius, a pioneer & others need time to catch up to you. (Elizabeth Taylor) / (Queen Elizabeth the 1st)
Iris in Pisces/12th: Here, Iris has another symbol; the Caduceus. She uses her capacity to illuminate the mind as a symbol of healing & divine communication through which the kundalini rises with serpent-like energy. This, together with her rainbow symbol, indicates the capacity to bridge the lower & higher self in the evolved individual. Iris also gives the ability manifests through dreams & describes your capacity to give & receive messages in dream states. (Britney Spears) / (Bella Hadid)
*If Iris is [for example] conjunct Venus; read Libra/7th, too, or if Iris is conj. Pluto; read Scorpio/8th, too, etc.
#astrology#asteroids#iris#beauty#beautiful#intuition#female#feminine#intelligence#aries#taurus#gemini#cancer#leo#virgo#libra#scorpio#sagittarius#capricorn#aquarius#pisces#astro#zodiac#horoscope#astro notes#observations#asteroid#venus#pluto#sex appeal
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❛ i know all that, how do YOU know all that? ❜ -Tosh
❝ ah– DUNNO, REALLY, ❞ there is a moment of hesitation. here he is, speaking to the team’s technological genius [ and she is QUITE MORE than that, isn’t she? it would be unsurprising to learn that toshiko sato is the most brilliant person on the planet, wouldn’t it? ] regarding what’d fallen through the rift not days ago: a weapon, he’d surmised NEAR-INSTANTLY as it was turned within his grasp, eyes roaming the newly found device.
❝ just sort of BROKE IT DOWN in my head, ❞ tone remains casual as he continues on. really, he’s unsure how he so easily recognises and UNDERSTANDS weaponry, alien or otherwise, he simply does. a talent he’d found and perfected at torchwood one; for when he wasn’t DUTIFULLY at yvonne’s side, the young welshman could be found in acquisitions– having two ways to occupy himself: ALIEN TECH AND LISA.
gaze flickers from their new project to his team mate, shoulder lifting, ❝ always had a knack for it, i suppose. ❞
#; listen#; my favorite thing is that they both are instinctive when it comes to tech#; ianto's expertise just lies in weapons for some reason#; i love them thanks#gcldveined
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When you move, I move
A gift for @ultravioletness and @mozalieri who are the most wonderful pals in the world and deserve every happiness, and also entirely to blame for this mess.
Inspired by this wonderful art by @nuizlaziart
I.
"Do you dance, Monsieur Salieri?"
Antonio stiffened, abruptly stilling his foot which had, quite of its own accord, been shifting from side to side to the rhythm of the aria Mozart was demonstrating with all the capricious charm of a six year old showing off his first finger painting.
He turned an icy gaze on the man in question, who didn't have the mocking smirk he had assumed would be accompanying that question, undoubtedly meant as a snide jab at his inelegance and obvious lack of the confidence or ability needed to partake in the sport in question. Not that this intent could be read in the face of the young composer, who was smiling with seemingly genuine interest and eagerness. Salieri felt the, by now normal, confusion which seemed to stir in his chest whenever he interacted with the frustrating boy. How could someone who seemingly plastered his emotions across his countenance for the world to see be so impossible to understand?
"I do not, as is perfectly obvious."
It must be a trick of the ballroom lighting that the light shining from Mozart's face seemed to dim, and his eyes shutter slightly, at Salieri's curt response.
"I find that sort of frivolity best suited to those with more... extreme temperaments, shall we say."
He avoided Mozart's eyes as he said this, his treacherous brain remarking that the erratic genius standing in front of him was undoubtedly an excellent dancer, even going as far as to supply images of Mozart's body spinning around a dance floor, in perfect harmony with the music flowing around him, as always.
The man in question smiled hesitantly at the blush creeping up Salieri"s cheek, and laid a fleeting hand on his arm.
"Well, Monsieur, I don't believe you in the slightest. I know you'd be an excellent dancer."
II.
Salieri was, predictably, having an utterly terrible time. He had warned de Ponte as much, with increasing volume and increasingly colourful language when it became obvious the man was not listening to his protestations and would not allow him weasel out of the annual ball so easily.
And so, here he was, lurking in the corner of the ballroom dressed all in black, with an even blacker scowl on his face as he watched the colourful multitudes whirl past and let the babble of vapid and inane wittering wash over him. As his eyes searched out the nearest waiter who could be prevailed upon for another glass of whatever terrible alcohol it was that he had spent the evening singlemindedly devouring, he heard a familiar voice rise above the din. Ah, speaking of vapid and inane.
"SALIERI!"
He could barely suppress a wince as the lanky, dishevelled whirlwind - somehow, the most talented composer Antonio had come across - knocked into him, skidding to an abrupt halt. The man was practically vibrating out of his skin, so obviously at ease here amongst the tumultuous colours and cacophony of sounds and the steady thrum of music which permeated everything. Salieri couldn't take his eyes of the young man's vibrant pink jacket with black lace spilling out from the cuffs and neckline, and beautiful silver snowflakes embroidered down it. It billowed around him as he moved and should have looked utterly absurd, but all Salieri could think was how alive Mozart looked, how his dark eyes were extenuated by the gaudy colour, drawing attention to the constant light and laughter which shone out of them.
Abruptly, Salieri felt a flush of embarrassment run through him as he remembered his own drab outfit and he shrunk backwards, willing himself to merge once again with the shadows and allow Mozart to continue on, unimpeded, to carry his breathless brightness to those more deserving of it.
But the composer had been surprising him since the day their eyes first met across that concert hall, and now Mozart moved towards him, with a deliberation unusual for the young man. He glanced up, with what Salrieri would call hesitancy on anyone else - but this was Mozart, so such an idea was absurd. And indeed, a second later his irrepressible nature was back and he flung his arms out in frankly the most over-dramatic bow Salieri had ever witnessed. Several individuals on the outskirts of floor made their consternation known as they narrowly avoided a smack from his flailing hands.
"May I have this dance, sir?"
Salieri could only gape at the unexpected turn his evening had taken, attempting to ignore the curl of anger and something else, harder to identify, which sparked inside him.
"I thought I had made it clear that I don't find jokes at the expense of my dancing ability to be at all amusing."
Those frustratingly expressive eyes blinked at him in surprise.
"I'm not joking, Antonio."
The jolt that went through him when Mozart used his given name just wasn't fair, and he struggled to keep his face expressionless as he tried to fathom the intentions of the boy still bent at the waist in front of him.
"I... cannot dance, it is not something I have ever been interested in learning."
"Ah. So, you don't want to dance with me?"
And god, of all the times for Mozart's face to be veiled, his eyes averted and something in his tone sounding an off note that was impossibly hard to read.
"I..."
If Mozart hadn't added the second half of the question, Salieri would have answered instantly. He had no desire at all to dance with faceless strangers in a mass of overheated bodies, to take part in the sideways looks and giggles and gossip that came part and parcel with that. But, to dance with Mozart? To feel the young man's elegant fingers curled into his sleeve, feel the pressure at his back as he was swept around, as he was made part of the constant, glorious rhythm which this otherworldly boy seemed to live his life by. To look down into his eyes, mere inches from his own.
Salieri was jerked back to reality by a feather light touch in his wrist, Mozart pressing his fingers there as delicately as if he was a newborn kitten who might startle at any minute.
"May I?"
Mozart smiled softly as he asked again, with what Salieri distantly recognised as hope flashing in his eyes. He cleared his throat.
"You may."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Salieri found himself on the dance floor, Mozart's arm steady around his waist, fingertips resting on his hips. At first all he felt was growing panic as his feet stumbled over the steps, but then Mozart leaned in, holding him more firmly and leading with more pressure.
"Don't look at your feet, Antonio, look at me."
Unwillingly, Salrieri dragged his eyes up, losing his breath for a second at how close the man in front of him was.
"There you go." Mozart's smile was open and delighted and seemed to send frissons of heat through the places their bodies touched as he slowly, reverently, spun Salieri out around, catching him and drawing him closer again.
"See Antonio." Wolfgang's voice was a mere whisper over his cheek as he expertly changed their direction again.
"I knew you'd be an incredible dancer."
((This is the first writing I have ever finished and shared and it was written on the nightbus so I’m sorry for any errors)
#mozalieri#mor#mozart l'opera rock#i... have never used any of these tags before fkdjdjdjd#the amount of cheesy phrases and img i use in here is frankly criminal#good god#but i'm too tired to edit#mozart#salieri#am i tagging right????#we just don't know#moraholics#i should tag that apparently
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2018 Albums of the Year
Here’s my albums of the year. 2018 has been a brilliant year for music, and so I thought I’d lay out my favourite albums, and the reasons why they’re my favourites.
10: Unknown Mortal Orchestra – Sex and Food
Kicking the list off at ten, we have the fourth full-length project from the New Zealand lo-fi psychedelic group Unknown Mortal Orchestra. An album that calls to mind at various points dusty late 70s grooves, 80s synth work and yet very modern production sensibilities, Sex and Food bounces between deeply introspective balladry, and funky danceable beats. A sure step forward for a band that only looks to become more experimental as time goes on.
9: Ben Howard – Noonday Dream
The Devon based singer-songwriter gives a compelling vision of the future of indie-folk with this transient and supremely accomplished set of songs. Taking a further stride away from the straightforward acoustic sound of 2011’s Every Kingdom, Noonday Dream shows an artist unafraid to utilise aspects of electronic and ambient music into his soundscapes, resulting in a transcendent, elegant, and above all beautiful set of tracks. The opening duo of Nica Libres At Dusk and Towing The Line are a particular high point.
8: Thom Yorke – Suspiria (Music for the Luca Guadagnino Film)
Surprisingly his first ever venture into soundtrack work, Thom Yorke’s masterful score for the Luca Guadagnino film of the same name could be in this list simply on the strength of its lead track; Suspirium is an otherworldly waltz, a spartan piano line presided over by Thom’s instantly recognisable vocals. But it is the deeper cuts for which this album earns its place; Open Again begins with a fingerpicked guitar progression that grows into a monolithic walk to the gallows and then fades out once more. A master at the height of his powers.
7: Sports Team – Winter Nets
Undoubtedly the least well-known name on this list, the debut EP from the London-based indie-pop outfit Sports Team has been one of my most played records yet this year. A cerebral mix of Jarvis Cocker-style lyricism preoccupied with the minutiae of suburban life, and pitch perfect indie rock arrangements teetering on the edge of chaos, this shows talent beyond their years; the only EP on this list, these five tracks managed to catch my attention early on, and have stayed with me through the year. Ones to watch.
6: MGMT – Little Dark Age
A name I would not have expected to see on this list at the start of the year, the comeback from the early 2000s electro-pop group is unexpectedly brilliant. Far from the runaway chart success of singles such as Electric Feel, Little Dark Age is full of tracks that could have been pulled from the dusty archives of pretty much any 80s synth bands, but combined with so many left-field production choices, and lyrics that belie a dark sensibility beneath the bright instrumentation, this album becomes a very mature release indeed. The single, Little Dark Age, is just magic. I can’t wait to see what comes next.
5: Car Seat Headrest – Twin Fantasy
Bringing us into the second half of this list is Will Toledo’s project Car Seat Headrest, with a rerecorded, remastered version of his 2011 breakout album Twin Fantasy. Toledo’s DIY ethos calls to mind contemporary Kevin Parker, of Tame Impala, although the two go about their self-imposed individualism rather differently. Toledo’s recordings retain the lo-fi teen emotion of the original Twin Fantasy, while adding the production sensibilities of Toledo’s later Car Seat Headrest ventures, resulting in such a dizzying barrage of pitch perfect indie ballads that display mature, incisive and insightful lyricism. The peaks of the album slip off the rails in the most glorious way, and culminate in simple, honest, and resounding emotional resolutions. Few albums so perfectly capture the teenage experience... a brilliant achievement.
4: Father John Misty – God’s Favorite Customer
It will come to no surprise to those of you who know me that Josh Tillman has made his way into this list; I have been following Father John Misty since last year’s existential crisis of an album, Pure Comedy. But God’s Favorite Customer is an entirely different beast- aside from the single, Mr Tillman, the typical luscious arrangements of a usual Father John Misty album are conspicuously missing here. Gone are the chamber pop orchestras and parlour ballads; here is FJM with an acoustic guitar, a month’s stay in a hotel room, and some utterly shattering songwriting. Tillman has abandoned his lofty perch overseeing the human condition in favour of personal, painful lyrics that dissect a failing relationship in real time. Many of these songs are addressed to, or from the perspective of, Josh’s wife, Emma, and the narratives are as autobiographical as ever. But the key here is that Tillman has ceased to be just an observer of the phenomena he comments on; in God’s Favorite Customer he has no choice but to experience them from the inside, and it makes for devastating listening in places. However, Misty has not abandoned all hope; closer We're Only People (And There's Not Much Anyone Can Do About That) ends the album with a remarkably beautiful and optimistic look at humanity, and leaves you ready to emerge from the hotel room, blinking against the sunlight, into the outside world.
3: Blood Orange – Negro Swan
London born producer, multi-instrumentalist, and general prodigy Devont Hynes, has outdone himself on his fourth project under the moniker Blood Orange; Negro Swan represents exactly the kind of progressive song writing Hynes is so sought after in the pop world for, and brings together a beautiful collage of sounds and textures to produce an album that is so of the moment, it feels like a time capsule of today. Swan embraces diversity, revelling in a celebration of sexuality and identity that feels almost carnival-like in its embrace of so many aspects of modern R&B and Hip-Hop. On what other album can you find Puff Daddy monologuing about his own fear of being loved? This whole project is filled with moments such as this, with trans black activist Janet Mock providing a loose narrative thread tying the album together. But for me, the true highlight of this album is Hynes himself; a young black artist showcasing a striking talent that simply refuses to obey the laws of genre or society. The musical prowess on show is undeniable; in particular, Hynes’ guitar work is so accomplished, tracks such as Charcoal Baby are sheer joy to listen to because of it. The vocals on this record are equally impressive; comparisons will undoubtedly be drawn to Prince, although personally I see Hynes as akin to Frank Ocean, both showcasing a new vision for R&B in the 21st century, and Swan feels in many ways a sibling to Ocean’s 2016 album Blonde, in its transient nature and almost soundscape-like mixture of sounds and feelings. Negro Swan is a glorious celebration in which all expression is embraced, and no identity is off-limits. This is what all modern R&B should aspire to.
2: Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino
Those monkeys, eh? Four years after their last studio effort, with each member having done something entirely different (and accomplished, see Alex Turner with The Last Shadow Puppets, and Matt Helders on the latest Iggy Pop record) with their sabbatical, no one quite knew what shape their return would take. Recorded in London, Paris and Los Angeles, the sixth album from the band synonymous with early 00s indie could have taken quite a number of directions; furthering the slick arena rock of AM, delving deeper into the baroque pop offering the Last Shadow Puppets pursue, or perhaps even a return to their raucous indie rock roots. Naturally, they did none of the above. The first sign of their step in a different direction was a video they posted in mid-April, announcing a return with an eerie synth line and a fuzzy guitar lick; in hindsight it was the perfect segue into the TBH&C era, both a nod to the leather-clad rock of AM, and yet the space-age synths and fictional space resorts of Tranquility Base. And when the album did come? Oh boy. I’m not sure a release in 2018 divided fans quite like the Monkeys’ did. I’ve heard it variously described as “sheer genius”, “derivative retro nothing” and “f*cking lift music”. It really was that polarising. I’m sure that from its spot on this list you can guess which camp I fall into. From the go, the surreal lyricism of Alex Turner is front and centre, and the record is all the better for it. From surreal references to Kubrick film techniques, and obsession with sci-fi jargon, to ridiculous pastiches of Hollywood clichés, critics weren’t short of liner notes to unpick. But the key for me was the way that the album, as all great sci-fi does, comments on modern life through the lens of futurism, while also keeping you scratching your head the whole time. Furthermore, the actual songwriting is as good as ever, with Turner making a tune about a less than perfect review for a taquiera on the moon into the rhythmic centrepiece of the album. I do have to confess, I am slightly biased; I’m a lifelong AM fan, and I did see this performed live, which only deepened my admiration of it but truthfully- listen to this album. Then listen some more. And then some more again. Because when it clicks, you won’t experience anything else even remotely like it all year.
Bonus Round
These are albums that I discovered in 2018, but weren’t released this year… they deserved recognition along with the rest of these projects.
5: Frank Ocean – Endless
Frank Ocean is one of, if not the, best and most innovative artists working in modern R&B. That much is undisputed. But until 2018, despite being a huge Frank Ocean fan, I had neglected his 2016 visual album, Endless. Perhaps this was due to laziness, not having Apple Music, or perhaps it was because for me it was vastly overshadowed by the release of the seminal Blonde a few days later. Or maybe I simply thought a visual album wasn’t worth my time. Whatever the reason, I was a fool to overlook it. Endless is an ethereal journey through Ocean’s psyche, with a vast soundscape of beautiful, flowing synths and guitars. Furthermore, Endless features some of Ocean’s best rap work since Channel Orange. A truly beautiful project, and Higgs is, for me, Ocean’s most devastatingly sad track… further evidence that Frank doesn’t put a foot wrong.
4: Leonard Cohen: Songs Of Leonard Cohen
In 2016, the music world lost one of its most treasured talents, in the form of Leonard Cohen. However, although I have always been aware of Cohen’s work (Hallelujah, his inspiration of Nick Cave, The Last Shadow Puppets’ Is This What You Wanted cover), I had never taken the time to sit down and immerse myself in his work. Well, I was very much missing out. His cinematic, confessional storytelling, and his instantly recognisable voice and manner, mean that his songs are almost exactly the type of ballads I love, and Songs is his finest work. From start to end, you see the world through Cohen’s eyes. A poet.
3: King Krule: The OOZ
King Krule (real name: Archy Marshall) is a divisive artist; many see him as a visionary, however he is also, to many (including my dad) just “the one with the awful voice”. To me, Krule is a fantastic lyricist and producer, with an instantly recognisable sound. From the moment you enter The OOZ, you are in Marshall’s world, a London of grimy concrete and eerie loneliness. However, there are moments of beauty among the sluggish, smog-filled music; Slush Puppy, despite descending into madness near the end, is a really quite endearingly desperate performance. Cadet Limbo also shows off Krule’s more jazzy influences, and is all the better for it. A view into the future of singer-songwriting.
2: Father John Misty: I Love You, Honeybear
Josh Tillman has already featured on this list once, and it’s no secret I think he’s one of the best artists working today. However, until this year, I had never given his 2015 romantic opus, Honeybear, a proper listen. I was turned on to Misty by his 2017 work Pure Comedy, and after an existentialist view on all of Humanity, a romance album seemed like a step back, so I didn’t give it the time it deserved. How wrong I was. Honeybear is a beautiful, tender, and being an FJM record, deeply satirical and funny, look at love, relationships, and society. It features lush, beautiful arrangements, and gorgeous melodies, all delivered with Misty’s characteristic tongue-in-cheek smirk. Not one track on the album is dead space, and there are several high points, right from the start. Favourite for me is I Went To The Store One Day, which is a simple, yet incredibly beautiful and moving ballad to close the album. Stunning stuff indeed.
1: Everything Everything – A Fever Dream
I’ve known of Everything Everything for quite a while now, but in early 2017 I was gifted tickets to see them on their A Fever Dream tour, and it absolutely blew my mind. EE have crafted brilliant electronic indie music in the past, with catchy melodies and odd, skittering rhythms. However, A Fever Dream builds on this in the best possible way, building on their electronic sound and adding an even more fiercely of-the-moment view on songwriting. One of the highlights for me was Jonathan Higgs’ vocals, which electrified the music with a fierce intellect, and sparkling melodies. An ecstatic blend of so many musical styles, which results in a fantastic album. A masterpiece for today.
Okay, finally the main event. My album of the year 2018 is…
1: IDLES – Joy as an Act of Resistance.
Here we are then. Number one spot. And again, if you know me, you know there could never really have been any other album here. I first discovered IDLES earlier in the year, riding off the success of their breakout debut album Brutalism, an unstoppable punk locomotive of an album, with guitar and bass lines that are so, well, brutal, that they break down the door and hold you at gunpoint until you sit up and pay attention. This band is the perfect voice for austerity Britain, more mature than Slaves, more relevant than Sleaford Mods, and yet they walk an incredibly fine line. It’s almost impossible to define until you hear a band that possess it, but they simply make. So. Much. Sense. Joe Talbot talks with such a fiery intensity that it’s impossible not to listen, and an eloquence that is so often missing from punk. He’s so likeable, and oddly enough for punk, easy to listen to. However, don’t mistake that for the album lacking brutal riffs. Because it has those in spades. From the opening bass rumble of Colossus, JAAAOR picks you up by the scruff off your neck, and doesn’t put you down until the last manic notes of Rottweiler fade away. This is a rock record that defies rock, a punk record that doesn’t define itself as punk, and a political statement that bases its politics on the phrase “Love yourself.” This provides an infectious alternative to the toxic masculinity of so much mainstream rock, and a uniquely vulnerable take on an incredible variety of issues. Beginning with an immediate left-footing with Colossus, the album the catches its witty and caustic stride with Never Fight A Man With A Perm, going from strength to strength the whole time. I’ve never quite identified with a track lyrically as much as I’m Scum, a rallying call for liberals everywhere: “I'll sing at fascists 'til my head comes off, I am Dennis Skinner's Molotov / I'm lefty, I'm soft, I'm minimum wage job”and erupting into the chant of “this snowflake’s an avalanche”. It goes on to postulate about not caring about the next James Bond, as “we don’t need another murderous toff”. The next track is the joyous Danny Nedelko, an ode to Talbot’s friend, and frontman of Heavy Lungs, Danny Nedelko. It’s a quite magnificent celebration of immigration and diversity, and embodies the sentiment of the album as a whole quite simply with a roar of “Unity!”. Potent stuff. The next highlight (or rather lowlight) for me is the one-two punch of June and Samaritans. June is a singularly moving ode to Talbot’s stillborn daughter, building all the time to a non-existent crescendo, and repeating the six-word mantra “Baby shoes, for sale. Never worn.” Incredibly painful, raw and poignant; you feel as if you’re witnessing a moment that you really shouldn’t be, a would-be father grieving at the bedside. It then transitions into Samaritans, an anti-toxic masculinity manifesto, furious in its denial of male stereotypes: “Man up, sit down, chin up, pipe down”, and building relentlessly to sheer ecstasy of the decree: “I kissed a boy and I liked it”. Powerful, powerful stuff. Track eight, Television, is pinned down by a juddering riff complimented by the incredibly able drumming of Jon Beavis (a very much unsung hero of the group), and a wonderful self-love mantra. Moving on, Great is an anti-Brexit track than manages to reveal the hypocrisy of nationalism without ever moving into preachy politicism, which is Talbot’s greatest strength; he can make any point sound like the simplest and most honest declaration ever. Gram Rock and Cry To Me are witty, and the least overtly political tracks of the album; but even these apparent low points aren’t by any means stale, quite the opposite. Every moment of this record fizzes with energy. Finally, Joy rounds off with the magnificent Rottweiler, a searing discrediting of the UK media, ending in the wheels coming off as the tension built throughout the 42 minutes comes to a chaotic end, with Joe yelping “Unity!”over and over. I have one final thing to say about Joy; it’s production is pristine throughout, with clarity in even its most chaotic moments. This is my record of the year, because I feel no other record held my attention so completely, and was so representative of the sentiment of this year. Pure joy.
Well then, thanks for sticking with me. 2018’s been a belter of a year for music, and I can’t wait to see what 2019 brings.
#2018#albums of the year#unknown mortal orchestra#ben howard#thom yorke#sports team#mgmt#car seat headrest#father john misty#blood orange#arctic monkeys#idles
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Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognises genius.
Arthur Conan-Doyle, quoted here:
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❧✎The Avengers (+ other MCU characters) when you ask to draw them
Tony Stark
You approach him when he's in the lab, expecting to be shooed away of course, without a mere glance sent your way
However, Tony is completely enraptured in his work. So, you plant yourself right in front of his clutter and mess, finding the perfect angle at which you can sketch him
He only takes notice after five minutes, when you've sat in the far corner; pad and pen huddled in your lap as you scribble away
"Y/n, what are you doing?" Tony hums, peering over the hologram with his stern eyes. He doesn't seem to know whether he's annoyed or intrigued by you
"I didn't want to interrupt. Just drawing."
"Well, it's pretty difficult to concentrate over the- obnoxious muttering and scribbling you've been doing... Can I see?"
You hesitate a moment, but nod and meet him by the work station
"Oh." It wasn't often someone could leave a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist speechless. But Tony thought this was something else.
Perhaps only by default, because he loved you dearly, but he also wasn't afraid to ask whether he could hang it up in the main hall. Ten times bigger. With your name on it. And maybe start a business.
Steve Rogers
It had been a fairly normal day. Steve had returned to the apartement, post-mission, and you were relaxing by the record player.
You found it quite theraputic when listening to Steve’s music. Nostalgic, even though you had never experienced such an era. Plus, it was a nice welcome. Or atleast you’d hoped.
“Y/n.” He recognised it was you instantly.
“Sit with me.” You responded, quietly, as the swing of brass played distantly. He took a place beside you on the couch, already comfortable in slacks and worn out with that dopey look on his face.
The two of you huddled close, not bothering to address his mission until a later date. It was an unspoken courtesy that both of you held, and one Steve appreciated wholeheartedly.
“Can I draw you? I’m trying to practice.” You often tried to be straight forward with him, as it was well known fot him to beat around the bush.
And funnily enough, he was already tensing above you.
“Well, I... “
“It won’t hurt.” You sniggered, before riggling away from his hold and taking your sketchbook in hand. “Smile for me.”
Thor Odinson
The first time Thor found you drawing was that momentous day...
On Asgard, where you often spent you days (Thor had insisted it was safer for you) the days grew lonely without the man you loved by your side. And whilst you returned to Earth every now and then to rejoice with your family and friends, he was the one that stayed on your mind.
(That last bit of dialogue was a joke btw lmao.)
Of course, Thor had duties, not only as the soon-to-be King of Asgard but also a protector of Midgardians, however it was difficult not to long for him...
The balcony was offering wonderful sights: magical colours and a land you could never dream of. You felt it was your purpose to memorise it, to record the beauty in the only way you knew how: paint.
The brush glided across white canvas, bringing to life exactly what you pictured and even as the hours passed and light dimmed, you couldn’t stop.
Until two great, big arms surprised you out of concentration.
“Thor?”
“Hello, my dearest Y/n. And what is that you hold?”
You felt heat quickly rising to your cheeks, knowing it was too late to hide.
“A painting.”
“By Odin’s Beard, you crafted this? It’s a revelation! I never knew you were so talented. Well, of course you are, I mean I never doubted, but--- Might you weld another for me?”
It was quite funny to see him dote over your work, and flattering to hear him think it was already complete. Yet, perhaps a little overwhelming.
“It’s not quite ready yet, Thor. But, I could do another. Maybe of you this time?”
Peter Parker
All you earned was a his huge, childish grin and another squeeze in loving arms.
He swung up to your window, taking perch at the ledge. A soft tapping brought you attentive.
"Spider-man." You smirked, closing the window pane shut as he tugged the mask off his face.
"Y/n, thanks. I know this is... unplanned, um. Aunt May wasn't home so I decided to check on you?" You could never understand why he lied to cover up his affection, but it was all better, as Peter couldn't get any cuter.
"Hm. Interesting." Returning your spot on the mattress, you pick up your book, which seemed to be an ordinary novel. Peter recently noticed you were keen to read as often as you could, and would sometimes highlight and make notes all over the pages. Plus, he liked to have you read to him. That was the best part, he couldn't deny it.
"Yeah, um, do you mind if I get-"
"Make yourself at home, Peter."
Blinking a couple times, he took a moment to register what you said before nodding to himself. "Right."
Perfect. A brilliant moment for you to get something down in this blank space. You presumed he could fill an entire page- perhaps, a spread-with that complex figure of his. And now, you were torn between clothed, or not. All that was important really, though, was to make him pop on the page. To be the best you could draw.
"Stay right there." You hummed, flicking your eyes up and down as graphite edged into the paper.
"What do you mean?" Peter couldn't help but stutter, though he stayed firm in place: mid way between sorting out his messy hair and barely changed into comfy attire. The mismatch of red and blues, and a beige, plain tee was difficult to capture, but you realised it added a lot of uniqueness to the piece. And even better: Peter. All of Peter. His clumsiness and cuteness.
"Y/n?"
"Oh yeah. Sorry, I was just getting the sketch down."
Clint Barton
"The... The what?" A large, pink blush spread across Parker's cheeks.
"And you put your back foot here, front one just about.. yeah---"
Clint was having fun with you children in the garden again. It was lovely to see him teaching them the ways of his... profession, even if you didn't condone it most of the time.
And it was the perfect moment to capture that memory.
Clint has kids still because I am too lazy to come up with a better idea.
Plucking a chair from the patio, you wander down the great oak tree and Clint, positioning yourself just behind.
"There you go. Now hold it there, I'm gonna go talk to your (Mom/Dad/other)."
"No, no, don't let me interrupt you. Go ahead." You chuckle, taking in the heat of blissful summer right on your cheeks.
"Hm, well OK. Don't get too close though. Or else you might get hit by this bow-expert!" There was a happy rejoice between your daughter and him after the man plants a kiss on your cheek, and you decided he had already consented to you drawing them when he gave you... that look.
For the next hour, there you were. Basking under the light as these two very animated children practiced and played, until it was due your pastime finished.
"I'm going in to make dinner now. Make sure she doesn't get hurt, Clint." He scoffs in response before catching up quickly to peer over you shoulder.
"Ooh, that's quite nice, honey. You should put that by the fire place." Boy, was he a charmer.
Thanks for stopping by!
With much reluctance, you shooed him away and got ready to cook, glancing at the piece every now and then, where it stood upright, on the mantelpiece.
If you enjoyed these imagines and would like to see more characters in this scenario, leave a comment!
Thanks for stopping by!
#drabbles#mcu fanfiction#fanfic#fluff#marvel#marvel's avengers#spiderman#peter parker#tony stark#x reader#iron man#clint barton#hawkeye#thor#thor odinson#steve rogers#captain america#marvel imagine#marvel x reader
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Impact of Early years of childhood on the holistic development of the children…
🍁
Early years of childhood play an important and significant role in the holistic and all round development of the children.
Undoubtedly, the genes are the determining factor for their personality development, but environment can’t be ignored.
The genes we inherit from our parents are limited whereas the brain’s ability to develip billions of new connections between the cells it is born with, is infinite Education, knowledge, learning and experience, greatly influence the number of these connections.
The same will become much clearer if we study the life history of some of the world famous personalities very closely, to name a few, Mozart and Leonardo da Vinci.
1. Mozart: His father, a court musician in Australia, recognised his talent at a very early age, supported, guided and provided him a platform to interact with the renowned musicians of the days and the result; child Mozart started enjoying the fame.
2. Leonardo da Vinci: His parents could also recognise his immense talent at a very early stage, motivated and helped him join the studio of a renowned artist as an apprentice and soon he developed his artistic skiils and talents and went on to become an artist par excellence.
It takes two to make a genius.
One of the greatest myths about genius is that they are born, instantly recognised and that’s all.
But, that’s not the case. It takes two to make a genius. A person born with some talent or gift needs someone from the society not only to see it, but also to believe in it, recognise and then help it groom to the fullest.
In order to ensure the holistic development of the children:
1. Talents/gifts amongst the children need to be identified.
2. All kinds of opportunities and exposure should be provided to them to nurture and groom the talent so identified to the fullest.
3. Parental support is a must.
4. Due recogntion and appreciation have to be rendered to the children from time to time by the school, teachers and the parents so as to keep their morale high.
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John Galliano: 'a young man of special talent'
27 February 1986 At 25, John Galliano has already made his mark on the fashion scene. Now, suggests Sarah Mower, he needs time out of the limelight to develop his unusual talent.
John Galliano provokes. As a designer he is a volatile mix of the best and some of the worst tendencies in British fashion. His shows are confrontational fantasies on historical themes, deliberately freakish, self-consciously theatrical. Audience reaction to being showered with talcum powder or dead fish is sharply divided into wild enthusiasm on the one hand and deep exasperation on the other.
Galliano may try the grown ups’ patience with his high jinks and the crazed nonsense verse of his programme notes, but even his sternest critics do not deny that he is a young man of some special talent. At St Martin’s he was a star student, impressing his tutors with his natural ability and obsessive researching of details. One of his ex-teachers, not a man given to overstatement or notably fond of trendy excess, believes Galliano has it in him to become one of the fashion greats and could one day revolutionise the way women will want to dress.
High praise indeed. But he and other serious observers are anxious for the fate of Galliano and the vein of British fashion he inhabits. Some even warned I should stay away from writing about him, saying that, at 25, he has already had too much publicity and is suffering from it. That school of thought avers Galliano should be left alone to mature quietly, out of the way of head-turning dangers of designer celebrity, with the freedom to make beginners’ mistakes in reasonable privacy.
Galliano’s problem is mixed up in broader issues that begin with British art school education and end with the place that British fashion occupies internationally. He is the product of an art school system second to none in the world, a liberal education that teaches students to question, innovate and pursue ideas in an individualistic, purist manner. That, by and large, is where the London fashion explosion of the last few years originated - producing a flock of young designers whose bright, outrageous (often unwearable) clothes grabbed world attention for their sheer verve and audacity.
Like pop stars young designers attract hype. Galliano was hailed as super-genius for his 1984 degree show, his work displayed instantly in the windows of Browns, London’s most prestigious fashion showcase. As it happened, the exposure brought Galliano a wealthy backer, but the situation was dodgy in other respects. Would he, like others, end up as a one-hit wonder?
Fledgling talent stands in danger of being over-praised and then dropped. A recent graduate may come out with a brilliant creative idea in one particular collection, but it is unrealistic to expect an unformed designer to keep up the flow season after season. When raw talent is being given the same publicity emphasis as the truly professional operations of Paris or Milan, it is bound, eventually, to suffer by comparison.
John Galliano is smart enough to sense these things. It makes him defensive when chided about his outlandish presentation and often confounding garments. ‘One has to make a fuss to make the right people take notice. It’s important to create atmosphere,’ he says. ‘The catwalk is an invitation to try something different.’
Hence his collaboration with the stylist Amanda Grieve, who interprets the spirit of his collections with the addition of conceptual accessories-plastered hair wrapped in string, head-dresses made from dried undergrowth and broken clocks, pipes and the notorious flying seafood. Galliano is adamant that the approach worked. ‘A good buyer will see through the madness to the point of the clothes beneath. People are always saying I’ll blow it, but they keep coming back.’
The clothes photographed on this page illustrate the dilemma. For me, the pannelled construction of the wrapped skirt in the one picture is an inspired piece of design that has been seriously worked out, proof enough of Galliano’s great potential. In it he shows off his best: the ability to rework a standard garment into something recognisably wearable yet impressively new. The other photograph captures his worst. We spent half an hour trying to work out how to fit the model into the garment’s octopoid limbs and mysterious pouches, without much success. Who will spend good money on such whimsey?
Galliano justifies the caprice by expounding an idea of naivety, a child-like approach to dressing where all rules are broken and the garment is bent to the will and imagination of the wearer. He is, he says, a designer of clothes, not fashion. It smacks, I am afraid, of that arty, Dada-ist stage of postgraduate development best explored behind closed doors rather than trumpeted abroad as a major, mould-breaking insight. It will pass, and Galliano will find out that if he is not a fashion designer, he is nothing.
The fact is that international fashion is moving away from the experimental and whacky, back to quality and classic forms. Art school nonsense no longer looks so amusing and the fear is that boredom may strike the powerful buyers, with disastrous consequences for British fashion. After much discussion, Galliano concedes the need for a change of tactic. ‘My next show, in March, will be like an old Paris collection, I’m hoping people will understand that. We’ll get rid of the unecessary extras. There’ll be a grown up approach. If I’d waited another season I might have blown it.’
I hope he pulls it off. Galliano has the humility to admit he is still learning what works in design terms and spends hours watching and minutely criticising the video of his shows. He has the dedication to succeed, and was so keen to work that he was even at his studio on Christmas Day. He has experience in textiles and can capitalise on his knowledge of the way fabric behaves. He has worked at Tommy Nutter, learning the all-important part of tailoring.
If he can harness all those skills into disciplining his wild imagination, he will be a winner and so much the better for the future of British fashion. It is up to him and his young designer peers to prove that the hyped-up London fashion explosion of the early Eighties was no mere flash in the pan.
#John Galliano#Galliano#Love Galliano#John Galliano Haute Couture#Haute Couture#RTW#The Guardian#Article#Fashion#Art#Artist#Genius#Good Old Days
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Chrono Trigger - A Masterpiece transcending time (pun: check)
This game cant be overrated as it's one of the best games of all time and probably changed my expectations, what a videogame could be, forever. To give you a proper explanation why you should by this game, I am going to analyse it on a superficial level without relying on spoilers (at least not on big ones)
Story
First things first: The story. A story can make and break an RPG. AN RPG lives by it's atmosphere and the ability to suck the player into the world. And what do we have here? Time-Travel. A genre that is so oversaturated in the landscape of gaming that I am not kidding if I may say that it is quite impossible to make somethign completely unique. And this is true for Chrono Trigger too. But there is a difference: It introduced these things to us. This was before the whole gaming industry caught up and the developers genuinely cared for Chrono Trigger as even the little details define the characters within the story.
You will see so many genres and archetypes (a struggling medieval hero, the classic anime hero, the robot who doesn't know where he belongs and so on) but they don't rest on the quantity and every character gets flashed out. My favorite is a green guy called Frog. When you meet him, you will see such a great character arc that I still listen to his theme as it is as motivating as it gets. The link, if you don't want to wait:
The Theme of a True Hero
Also you always have the feeling of progression and a clear goal, but it never follows a predictable formula. Surprises will come, not always a welcome one. I can not say more as this is a jouney which just needs to be experienced. I encourage everyone to see all endings as there was some serious heart put into them.
Music
I already posted the link, but I think I should elaborate: Nobua Ueamatsu Everyone who knows this man should know that the music can not fail. But I think some people will need further explanation: He made music for many of the Final Fantasy Games and is the definition of a master within his territory. Just to make sure how much of a genius he is:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classic_FM_Hall_of_Fame
This is an annual poll to show the most heard classic music of the year. Nobuo Uemasu is the only guy to get in with videogame music, EVER. Despite games sometimes not taken seriously, he succeeded to reach third place. You, as the player, will be played like a fiddle, as he can introduce into every emotion he wants. But this is not the guy who is really responsible for the most of this tracks, this honor goes to Yasunori Mitsuda. Read through Wikipedia and you will understand that he is also a man of great talent and can compare with Uematsu and maybe even best him, well at times.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yasunori_Mitsuda
In short what I want to say: you are in for a ride as we are talking about legends working together. There is not one track in this game that is NOT memorable.
Gameplay
Did you ever play Final Fantasy 3? This one is more or less the same, but with less customisation. Let me explain: there is magic that costs MP, you got a normal attack command and you can use healing items. You can use one action per turn when your action bar has filled. Oh, and character can use stronger attacks if they combo. The end. As generic as it gets, but so perfectly done because every encounter in this game is not random. Nothing special but well executed.
Visuals
It is the upgraded version of a SNES game, but the graphics are more on the level of the DS, as it got an upgrade. The detail will suprise you and the colouring always conveys the atmosphere but this is not exceptional. Nowadays you could probably remake this game by using the latest RPG Maker software. But the character designs by Akira Toriyama are instantly recognisable and have aged so well that one can really wonder how much his style has influenced ourselves.
Problems
Despite this game being not very much in need of ressources, it still crashes too often, as this port is has it's flaws. I managed to play through it, but these bugs were very annoying. In total the game crashed 8 times for me.
Conclusion
This game is a 10/10 and an all-time classic (this port has flaws) but because of the greatness of this game: I can not recommend not to buy it.
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The Best of 2019 - What an Adventure It Has Been!
If you look at my race results for 2019, it has been a disaster. No legit Personal Bests anywhere, two atrocious road marathons, 2 failures to make the GB team, and even a few DNFs (Did Not Finish) next to my name. 2019 starts really well for me. Being named as ambassador for ON and Noble-Pro feels brilliant. I am also really excited about taking over the world with my Drone Running (Drone Running is where I run around the hills with a drone following me and filming. Completely my own genius idea which will surely bring me instant fame and riches). My racing picks up quickly, I run my 2nd fastest ever Half Marathon on a windy day, and off a 100 mile week. I get big PBs in my local parkrun and National Road Relays. Brighton Marathon is being sponsored by ON, so I run it. It goes terribly. I try and be clever and run my own race. But end up running the whole race completely isolated, into strong winds, and pulling my calf in the process. 2.28. Not so clever then. London Marathon two weeks later is a very quick turn around, but I have nothing to lose. I give it a shot, fully commit, but despite all my positive self-talk, my calf goes again. I’m proud to make it to the finish in 2.35.
I haven’t done any serious damage to my calf, and find that my fitness is still high. I start bending my attention to the GB Mountain Running trials, which are being held as part of the Snowdonia Trail Marathon. I am so motivated about getting my first GB vest and running the World Champs in Argentina, that I tell very few people about my aims. My races are all aimed at improving my chances in the trial. Things start to go really well for me, with some promising race results, including 2nd place at Snowdon Uphill race, where uphill is not my strong point. A few weeks before the race I start to feel really weirdy and fatigued. I know the tough races (when I say tough, I mean ‘nosebleed and blood-piss inducing’ tough), 30 mile training runs, and 110 mile weeks have taken their toll. But I still manage to pull myself together and give the race a good crack. I’m up in the lead till mile 18, where things fall apart, and I go through the most horrific race experience of my life on the moody slopes of Snowdon. Get down in one piece, still finish 10th, but leave a piece of my soul up there. Bit dramatic. Find it very difficult to find my mojo again after this crushing defeat. Drop out of a race, and am constantly thinking of quitting during races. I’m not used to negative thoughts. My little squad of runners at Track Tuesday Treborth is growing and I’m really enjoying feeling part of something good. It keeps me turning up week in week out and I have an unexpected great result in the short course GB Mountain Running trials, with 8th place on a very hot day.
It starts to become apparent that I am not going to win the internet with my drone footage such as it is. After a year of agonisingly difficult skill acquirement, I realise the technology is just not good enough yet. I start coaching training partner and good friend, Tom Roberts, for his debut marathon, Marathon Eryri. We work well together, and Tom gets into serious sharp shape for the race. On the day, if Tom ran sensible, he was good enough for 2nd place. But he wasn’t interested in 2nd place. He threw his chips in the air and went for gold, running a 5km pb during the race! He did incredibly well to hold on for 4th, and he gave the spectators one of the most thrilling races ever. Thanks for the heart attack, Tom.
Callum Rowlinson, winner (left). Tom Roberts (right) I am getting a bit perplexed with my blog. I love blogging. But it’s been 3 years now and my stats seem to have plateaued. It is not wrong to enjoy external validation. No matter what I write, I get roughly the same number of loyal readers (love you guys), no more, no less. I decide to change the tone and put out some comment. I write a post about the Nike Vaporfly Shoes and instantly my stats are booming. I get loads of comments, lots positive, some negative, but I enjoy doing something fresh and different. I am getting into good shape in training, and run a PB in Dulwich parkrun off some high mileage, but I want to back the Vaporfly blog post up with something bigger and more audacious. I go all in, and spend a ridiculous amount of time on the Farah & Salazar post. I write over 100 pages on it, then boil it down to 25. It consumes my life for a period. I’m working late into the night, eating junk, not getting enough sleep. I’m a big believer in sleep. It’s no surprise to me that I pick up a calf injury and am getting grouchy and quick tempered. I’m proud of the post, and stand by it. It gets 10,000 views, not much more than a normal post. Even though I have worked so much harder. I was hoping for 100,000 or a million. Newspaper editors are not banging down my door asking me to write for them. There is no book deal. I have not broken through. I am left fat and out of shape, with my calf injury, and a lot of making up to do. Then, on Christmas Eve, the most astonishing thing happens. I walk into a shop in London and the guy behind the counter instantly recognises me. He remembers me from when I worked as a Teaching Assistant in his primary school. I used to coach running there, 16 years ago. Just play-time at first, then lunch, then after school, then travelling to tournaments around London, often without pay. It grew and grew. We started winning competitions. We had to build a trophy cabinet. After 3 years we had the best runners in Southwalk. I worked really hard coaching those kids. I would arrive early, leave late. But I never thought of it as work. I loved it so much. I didn’t know why, I never needed validation. I just did it for the joy of doing it. To have this guy recognise me like that, 16 years later, it reminded me what a special thing we had built back then. Even though this guy is 6″5 and 26 years old now, I can remember him. He can’t wait to tell his friends he’s met me. They are still “inspired”, and go running around Dulwich park some weekends. He tells me their names and I remember them too. This blows my mind. These guys are not in the demographic you would expect to see running around the park for fun. I tell him I’ll be running the London Marathon, he says he will come and watch. I have to rush cos Nina and the kids are waiting in the car. Also, I don’t want to say anything stupid and ruin the moment. I’m still glowing from it now. It’s a deep glow. A lot lot deeper than getting likes on Insta.
My most liked post on Insta this year, over 1000 likes, if you’re interested. You can see my foot is blurred cos I have just literally jumped onto the rock before the auto-timer I might have some talent for writing. But I don’t think I would enjoy being a full-time writer. I don’t enjoy being couped up indoors for hours and days on my own, with my thoughts. I love working with people, outside, and getting them running. Because running is so good for us. I believe in it. I don’t believe in fate. It was a coincidence I met an ex-pupil that day. I wasn’t in the midst of some depression that his words pulled me out of. But it just goes to show… small pebbles can create big ripples. Or something profound like that. If I have a New Years Resolution for 2020, then that is it? Non-Running Related Highlight of the Year I leave my job as a builder to go full-time on our project. Turning a massive, long abandoned Chapel House into an AirBnb business. We are nearly finished, taking bookings from Feb. Wink wink plug plug. See our listing here Also my Brother in Laws wedding in France. Beautiful peoples, views and vibes. Perfect weather, food and location.
Movie of the Year Joker Song of the Year Imagine Dragons – Zero Series of The Year Fleabag Season 2 Book Of The Year The Fox Of The North. General Kutuzov- Roger Parkinson 1976 Read the full article
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