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timespakistan · 3 years

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Ghalib: Poet immortal | Art & Culture | thenews.com.pk By the middle of the 20th Century, Ghalib was a much sung poet. And through the course of the century, he was able to maintain that because most of the top-of-the-line vocalists wanted to sing his ghazals. Ours is and was essentially an oral culture. The entire tradition of poetry is valued too because it was rendered in the spoken form and the relationship of the poet and the audience was established orally. The instant response was considered of greater value than the criticism developed in the academia in the course of the colonial rule. Musharia was a much prized institution and the poets, too, more often than not, recited their poetry. There were demands of “tarannum say” from the audience and it is said that Iqbal, too, was lauded more when he recited his poetry in tarannum. It is very difficult to say today what the status of the ghazal as a form of music before the beginning of the 20 Century was. The same can be said of all kinds of music because it existed in time and there was just no way to document it before the advent of recording technology. The only way to record music was to either write about it or to orally take the tradition of singing further. The latter, a much prized institution, the guru-shishiya parampara or the ustad-shagird pedagogical nexus in reality kept the tradition of music from running dry. It was carried forward from one generation to the next by groups of professional musicians who were supposed to do just that, and it became embedded in their genealogical makeup to almost become a sub-caste. As a form of poetry, ghazal was an import. It was sung in the Iranian tradition where the poetical form achieved unprecedented heights and was then culturally transported to the Indian sub-continent where it was elevated by both the poets writing in Persian and Urdu. In Urdu, too, it has remained the highest form of poetical expression over the last couple of centuries, at least since the times of Wali Dakhani. We know that the ghazal was sung along with the other lyrical forms in places which at best can be described as salons of dancing girls. The lighter forms of singing like the thumri and dadra always developed as concomitant to dancing. The salons, run by women of great latent and artistic integrity, were the hotbed of the emerging forms which probably did not find ready acceptance at the various levels of courts. Probably, there was a third tier after the courts presided over by the shahenshahs or the mahabalis and those at the provincial levels by the nawabs and the rajas. It was also open to the public, albeit very restricted as compared to the courts, where the attendance could only be by invitation. There was possibly a larger cross-section of audience at the salons than at the courts or sessions for the aristocracy. It can be guessed that Ghalib was not a favourite with the vocalists as he was known to be mushkil pasand. The poets liable to an instant understanding and more sentimental in their outlook must have been more sought after. There is a great likelihood that someone like Daagh was more sought after than Ghalib. It is possible also that poets who were more serious in their approach were wary of their ghazals being sung in the salons and appreciated in terms of monetary rewards in the shape of vails. Popular ghazals were also sung in stage plays and must have helped the art of ghazal singing mature because the actors were primarily vocalists and their rendition at times was considered an independent act irrespective of the on-stage flow of action. It is very difficult to say which ghazals of Ghalib were sung first and became popular with the audience that visited the salons. Even the names of the vocalists specialising in the singing of the ghazals are not known like those of famous kheyal and thumri maestros that have come down to us. As Ghalib grew in popularity, myths started being spun and grew in proportion about his private life and person. Names of some female vocalists were romantically linked to him. This became the grist of the popular show business mill as films, television plays and serials were made, needless to say not as a faithful depiction of his life but as necessity of creating a drama. Ghalib’s writings too can be seen as the legacy that influenced subsequent poetic endeavour. In one respect, he was extremely elitist and obscure because the Persian language that he wrote and took a great deal of pride in writing was phased out of the lives of the educated or literate Indians. Had he only written in Persian in this part of the world, Ghalib would just have been remembered by the academia and scholars, like Urfi, Nazeeri and Bedil. However, the singers made Ghalib a household name among the urban middle classes of North India. It is very difficult to trace back the history of music because it only existed in time and all else is either hearsay or oral narration. It cannot be recalled for verification and authenticity. The actual history that can be documented started with the recording of sound. It is said that the recording of music in India started in the early years of the 20th Century. It is also said that the first vocalist to be recorded was Gohar Jan. For record, we have a seventy-eight rpm disc of Gohar Jan: yeh na thi hamari kismet, keh wisal e yaar hota. Others of about the same era whose recordings have survived are Shamshad Bai Dilliwali: dost ghamkhwari main meri sa’ye farmain gay kiya and one Hujrowali: taskeen ko hum na roain jo zauqe nazar milay. The vocalists who were valued and also sang Ghalib must have contributed to him being seen as a popular poet. Akhteri Bai Faizabadi, KL Saigal and Barkat Ali Khan not only sang Ghalib but also took the rendition of the form a couple of notches higher. Once this was achieved, then everyone sang Ghalib. Talat Mehmood, Malika Pukhraj, Noor Jehan, Mehdi Hasan, Amanat Ali Khan, Farida Khanum, Iqbal Bano, Ghulam Ali, Lata Mangeshkar, Mohammed Rafi, Jagjit Singh – you name it and it is there. Now as we enter another phase of music history, this period is viewed by the younger generation as classical as very few actually recall dhrupad, kheyal and even thumri. The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore https://timespakistan.com/ghalib-poet-immortal-art-culture-thenews-com-pk/11266/

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robinwinghood · 7 years

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Random Shift ramblings:

I feel like, if someone were to actually act as him, a difficulty with Alistair’s performance would be making sure that you can see the king behind his eyes, even when he’s just a nervous teenager. The hero, the alpha werewolf, this knight of old... All that has always been in him to be, that potential’s been there since the word go. It just takes the circumstance to really push it all to the fore. This has kind of always been an image I had in my head, that Alistair’s eyes are actually pretty important to the overall soul of him (maybe this is actually why I often don’t fully like drawings I do of him, even I can’t always do it right) (It reminds me of the quote from Silvertophat about Snow in Archipelgao: he’s hard to draw because the drawing looking like him isn’t enough, you need the glint in his eyes to tell you he’s there, not just a drawing of him)

For Chelsea I feel like her movement and speech are what really bring her out. She’s a lot easier for me to draw, and I think it’s because I relate to her so much, I have a really intuitive understanding of how to pose Chelsea and have it really look like her, in my head at least.

#OK lemme talk about my OCs for a second #Totally different thing but #I always draw Anna with a hairband #I always WRITE her as wearing hats #This is simply because I usually can't draw hats for shit and now it's habbit #I feel like I really got Alistair right in the fountain drawing and angry!Alistair in the Superheroes drawing #Like with the fountain it's all relaxed but I feel like you can see that hero in Alistair there #And I might be annoyed with my attempt at soft shading in the Superheroes one but I really like their badass expressions #They're ready to fight some motherfucker and they're ready in their own ways #Ollie and Taskeen are actually fairly easy to draw funnily enough

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itstaskeen · 3 years

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taskeens blurb sleepover

hey yall im back and i feel as motivated as ever and im so thankful for everybodys support dor my posts so im hosting a blurb sleepver until 14 february (i might host another sleepover for valentines day

i write for tom holland , holland family and co. , peter parker , arvin rusell .........for this sleepover ill accept everything other than angst

send in request from the prompt lists below(none of them are mine)

prompt list #1

prompt list #2

prompt list #3

SEND EM

or.... send me an emoji

🥝 - ask me my favourite anything

👑- for a compliment on your blog

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨- for my opinion on a concept

💌- for a love letter (pls mention from whom)

taglist and some peaple who might be interested(hope u dont mind me for tagging yall ) : @adriannajackson123 @agentsofparker @antigoneidk @booksarekindaneat @dahliasbroken @hollandlover19 @lmaotshollandd @rainyseb @ssss3399 @zspideyy @hazosterfieldanon @geminiparkers @marvelouspeterparker

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itstaskeen · 3 years

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KINKMAS 2020

SO WelCome to kinkmas my lovely hoes

credit for this template goes to the amazing @gyllenhaalstories , tysm for letting me borow this

HOW TO PARTICIPATE: send me an ask with the day you want filled and suggestions of characters or celebrities to write about (make it clear that it’s for kinkmas!). for example: ho ho ho i’d way day 5 with rapper!TOM please. you may also mention if you want it to be holidat related or not! you can send as many asks as you want (credit for this note also goes to @gyllenhaalstories)

NOW THIS ARE SOME PROMPTS YOU CAN INCLUD EWHEN YOU SEND ME AN ASK

Remember who’s in charge

Scream for me

Enjoying the view

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught

You take my fingers so well don’t you

Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me

Wow, I think you’re blushing even redder than the vibrator inside you

“Please? I’ll be good, I promise

How do you feel about adding another person to the mix

You are not going out in that outfit

Quiet, baby, the others will hear

Do you want to continue this in the shower

Your pussy tastes so sweet

“What do you want for breakfast?” “Why are you asking me that at 10 o’clock at night-OH.”

I’ve… Never done this before…” “Don’t worry I’ll be gentle”

“Oh my god. Did we just break the bed

These walls are pretty thick, which means you and I can be as loud as we want.”

Open your mouth

i cant think of any more but please send an ask

SEND AN ASK - for tom holland , peter parker , arvin russell , harrison osterfield , the holland brothers , niall horann , harry styles

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itstaskeen · 3 years

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Leaves

Grass trimmed short between rectangular beds. Aromatic leaves, the air scented by blossoms, tiny green leaves of the Thyme, Rosemary with dark green leaves and white central stripe growing on woody stems, sprawling Oregano with its sweet pungent smell, Mint in its clay pot reaching for the sun, Chives growing like grass with their round purple flowers on tall stems, Basil waves gaily in the summer breeze right next to the garlic to keep the aphids at bay. Combined what music they make, each Italian and Greek dish an orchestra of flavour.

I can never see flowers too many times, I can never tire of their sweet fragrance. Each one is a delicate bloom, no matter if it is a formal garden or wasteland. Their petals are delicate works of art and their hues are medicine for my soul. I guess it's not just me that feels that way though, we bring flowers into the hospitals and graveyards, we send them to express our love, we plant them in our yards though they bear no edible fruits. Gardening was always a hobby of mine since I was a child

Its a very entertaining thing to do but it can be quite messy. My whole body was covered in mud as I was trimming the bushes and watering plants and planting some new flower seeds. *pov * Today I finished work earlier than expected. As I arrived home I found y/n gardening. She was putting her full effort into it and doing it passionately. Her hair was barely combed back into a messy ponytail, and dirt was smeared across her cheek and forehead. With her sports bra coated with mud and jeans caked with dried mud. Though covered in dirt and mud she was truly beautiful, stunning as always.

*Y/NS POV * You were occupied sprinkling water on the Chrysanthemums when you felt a pair of muscular arms wrap around your waist from behind making you gasp. You looked behind to see it was tom. Y/N: You are back early T: Just wanted to see my pretty girl Y: your pretty girl? T: yes mine

*THIRD PERSONS POV* He pulled you closer to him and started pressing kisses across my neck to my collarbone. Y: TOMM! T: hmm Y: Don't come close to me T*stilll pressing kisses on you *: Why not love Y: I'm covered in mud * pushing tom away * T: but babeeeee I wanna cuddle * he whines and wraps you in a hug * Y: let me go and take a shower first * letting go of him * T: okay but don't come back begging me to cuddle with you Y: huh?? I think it's the other way around Y: don't come back begging me to cuddle with you * you said mocking him * Y: I'm going to the shower rn T: can I join you at least Y: come along then *you looked at him with a smirk*

READ FIRST SIN PART 1

HERE

#tom angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland frat au #tom holland imagines #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem #fictober #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #taskeen writes #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker smut #tom holland is hot #wtf did i just write

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itstaskeen · 3 years

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The First Sin part 2

pairing: tom holland x female!reader summary: Any spell any magic seems useless in front of the magic of love. Let’s join our lovers in their magical conquest beyond life and death as they fight for their love unravelling dark mysteries of the past along their way. warnings: none really word count: 565

part1

Y: Are you okay T: I-I uh yeah I'm fine 𝘎𝘰𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺. 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. T: thank you - Y: Y/n, you can call me y/n T: Thank you y/n Y: My pleasure Then both of us began chatting regarding ourselves. She told me that she was an orphan and was raised by her foster parents. I told her about myself skipping the fact that I'm an angel and that I was here on earth for a short-term visit. " Um, may I get your number," I asked as she was about to leave? " ( Yes angels also have phones ). "Sure " she replied with a grin. Then she left. Right then was the moment to go back to heaven after having a glorious time on this planet. I went to the corner of the street and willed my wings to emerge but they refused. They just won't appear. That meant I had done something wrong. That also meant until my wings appear I was stuck here. On Earth 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘪 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧

So I tried summoning him to which he acknowledged. He looked bored “ What's wrong. ” “ My wings won't appear. ” The optimism seemed to have evaporated from his face after he heard what I had said. (God=G, tom=T)the devil G: What did you do! T: N-nothing why would you think I did something G: You lost your wings G: The only way an angel can lose its wings is by showing any form of support, devotion, falling in love with the Devil or anybody who supports or is related to the Devil T: but I h-had my wings yesterday and today I only met a mortal girl G: hmm this does not sound good T: oh no 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 T: how do I get my wings back G: A quest T: A-AA what G: A quest with one trustful companion to get ur wings back T: what kind of quest G: A quest with perils and danger you can never dream of T: do I have to take a quest G: if you want ur wings back then yes T: who is gonna be my comrade G: perhaps the girl you just met T: b-but I just met her I cannot tell her I'm an angel if I do she won't believe me G: it has to be someone inside this mortal world G: who else do u identify inside this world T: uh no one G: excellent finally your brain is working T: uh it always worked G: out of topic T: um ok T: so I just go and tell her that I'm an angel and I need help G: what no she won't believe you if you do so T: then? G: you start slowly telling her less information then tell her you are an angel and hope that she believes you T: ok G: anything else T: do I get my wings back as soon as I finish the quest G: only if you did not do anything wrong such as supporting or loving the devil and its only mere misunderstanding G: and now ill go back to heaven T: wait.. *and before tom knew god was gone*

JOIN THE TAAGLIST

#tom angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #taskeen writes #tom holland frat au #tom holland smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker smut #mob!tom x y/n #tom holland is hot #tom Holland fan #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland angel au #thefirstsinth

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itstaskeen · 4 years

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The first sin part 1

pairing: tom holland x female!reader

summary: tom and y/n fight for their love unraveling dark mysteries of the past along the way

warnings:none really

word count: 1,086

note: my first fic i’ve posted (its from my instagram : @tomscoffeeshop but im postin it here too )

*devils pov*

𝘓𝘐𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴. "𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 " 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 "𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘴 '𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. " 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘭𝘭-𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸��𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮�� 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐,𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘴, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘮𝘦. 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

*toms POV* I awoke to delicate sheets, and the daylight trickled in within the blinds. Shedding myself with remaining glimpses of my dream, my eyes still sealed as I soaked in the warmth of my covers before letting my brown eyes see the sun's rays. It was glorious being an angel and living in heaven. Life could not get more perfect until I lost my wings. Yeah, I'm getting to that part quick. I woke up and had some breakfast with my lovely family. Orange juice, pancakes and fresh blueberries, that was Monday mornings at our place. Those pancakes were the flavour of home, of the valleys of long ago, with their buttermilk and eggs. I enjoyed going down to the mortal world to see earths wonders. I travelled down to the mortal world and then hid my wing's and took my mortal form with a brown shirt. I was walking along the right side of the road. I went inside a cafe at the end of the street. The tiny café huddled despondent among the huge city buildings. Washed out under the overcast sky, it hunched in itself, fighting against the drizzle. Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street. The half a dozen customers glanced up as the doors swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colourful walls. Then I saw a girl.

.She walked as lightly as an acrobat. A puff of wind swept through her hair before it slipped into the atmosphere. Her hazel eyes were a melt of autumn tones, fending off the winter frost. Freckles, light, delicate; sprinkled softly on her sun-kissed cheeks. Waves of brown hair that refract the sun's gentle light, penetrating its smooth layers. She was a Goddess on Earth, a blooming flower amongst the leaves. Alluringly, she would blink her eyes from time to time, allowing her eyelashes to flutter like the wings of a butterfly. My god, her eyes were simply spellbinding. Her eyes were hickory as rich as the earth’s soil; stained with the colour of hot chocolate on a cold, winter night that wraps around you like a blanket; engulfs you in its warmth and makes you feel at home. Those deep pools of dark-cinnamon swirls seized the depth and heaviness of one thousand untold stories, which imprisoned the sweetness of saccharine chocolate and the bitterness of strong coffee. When she smiled. The corners of her beauteous eyes lustred happiness in soft twinkles, which reflected the light that made her eyes copper against caramel. Likewise, her eyes glazed with a liquid that will reveal to you the pure blissfulness, which glistered inside the almond, circumscribed by eye-lined lashes. They consisted of raw emotion. Her eyes iris was a large stain of wood and ebony pigments… Its size gave it a sense of innocence and purity. This is the part where you can see all the buried kindness eclipsed behind the saturated colour of fine, exquisite oud. There was some sort of goodness in her eyes, which tells you that no matter what she did, their intention will never carry any hint of evil or malignity whatsoever. The kindness may not be necessarily be shown or exposed. But if you look closely, you can reveal all the mysteries hidden in the deep beds of those big, brown eyes. From the surface of the stolen specks of sunlight to the abyss in the abysmal depths of dusky, auburn. Her seraph's ears pierced by golden hoops that were secreted by brown waves. I was so lost in alluring beauty that slipped right in front of her. Yeah right in front of her. I assumed everyone including her would laugh but they did not they were about to help but the girl I was looking at (not staring at :D ) reached first and helped me getup and god she was even prettier from up close.

*Y/NS POV* (she is 19 years old ) I,m Y/n (I don't know my last name since my parents are dead ) and my parents are dead. I was in an orphanage until 11 and then my foster parents Mr and Mrs Brown. They are fabulous but I do wish my parents were, not dead. I got raised by foster parents for eight years. Today I woke up to the sun glistening on my face. Today was Monday but I still didn't go to university. I told my foster parents that I had a headache and they said I could skip university for the day. I didn't think they would believe me but they did. Since today I did not have any work I decided to go to the cute cafe in the corner of the street. I went inside the shop and Your eyes caught someone. He was looking at you. Brown eyes, curly brunette hair, a brown shirt showing his muscular arms and a pair of black jeans. He smiled at you as you did too but then he fell right in front of you and you offered your hand for help .

part 2

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland and y/n #peter parker smut #mob!tom #angel tommy #peter parker imagines #tom holland series #taskeen writes

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