#Fields of Gold? MASTERPIECE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bookshelf-in-progress · 3 months

Text

A Wise Pair of Fools: A Retelling of “The Farmer’s Clever Daughter”

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge.

Faith

I wish you could have known my husband when he was a young man. How you would have laughed at him! He was so wonderfully pompous—oh, you’d have no idea unless you’d seen him then. He’s weathered beautifully, but back then, his beauty was bright and new, all bronze and ebony. He tried to pretend he didn’t care for personal appearances, but you could tell he felt his beauty. How could a man not be proud when he looked like one of creation’s freshly polished masterpieces every time he stepped out among his dirty, sweaty peasantry?

But his pride in his face was nothing compared to the pride he felt over his mind. He was clever, even then, and he knew it. He’d grown up with an army of nursemaids to exclaim, “What a clever boy!” over every mildly witty observation he made. He’d been tutored by some of the greatest scholars on the continent, attended the great universities, traveled further than most people think the world extends. He could converse like a native in fifteen living languages and at least three dead ones.

And books! Never a man like him for reading! His library was nothing to what it is now, of course, but he was making a heroic start. Always a book in his hand, written by some dusty old man who never said in plain language what he could dress up in words that brought four times the work to some lucky printer. Every second breath he took came out as a quotation. It fairly baffled his poor servants—I’m certain to this day some of them assume Plato and Socrates were college friends of his.

Well, at any rate, take a man like that—beautiful and over-educated—and make him king over an entire nation—however small—before he turns twenty-five, and you’ve united all earthly blessings into one impossibly arrogant being.

Unfortunately, Alistair’s pomposity didn’t keep him properly aloof in his palace. He’d picked up an idea from one of his old books that he should be like one of the judge-kings of old, walking out among his people to pass judgment on their problems, giving the inferior masses the benefit of all his twenty-four years of wisdom. It’s all right to have a royal patron, but he was so patronizing. Just as if we were all children and he was our benevolent father. It wasn’t strange to see him walking through the markets or looking over the fields—he always managed to look like he floated a step or two above the common ground the rest of us walked on—and we heard stories upon stories of his judgments. He was decisive, opinionated. Always thought he had a better way of doing things. Was always thinking two and ten and twelve steps ahead until a poor man’s head would be spinning from all the ways the king found to see through him. Half the time, I wasn’t sure whether to fear the man or laugh at him. I usually laughed.

So then you can see how the story of the mortar—what do you mean you’ve never heard it? You could hear it ten times a night in any tavern in the country. I tell it myself at least once a week! Everyone in the palace is sick to death of it!

Oh, this is going to be a treat! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fresh audience?

It happened like this. It was spring of the year I turned twenty-one. Father plowed up a field that had lain fallow for some years, with some new-fangled deep-cutting plow that our book-learned king had inflicted upon a peasantry that was baffled by his scientific talk. Father was plowing near a river when he uncovered a mortar made of solid gold. You know, a mortar—the thing with the pestle, for grinding things up. Don’t ask me why on earth a goldsmith would make such a thing—the world’s full of men with too much money and not enough sense, and housefuls of servants willing to take too-valuable trinkets off their hands. Someone decades ago had swiped this one and apparently found my father’s farm so good a hiding place that they forgot to come back for it.

Anyhow, my father, like the good tenant he was, understood that as he’d found a treasure on the king’s land, the right thing to do was to give it to the king. He was all aglow with his noble purpose, ready to rush to the palace at first light to do his duty by his liege lord.

I hope you can see the flaw in his plan. A man like Alistair, certain of his own cleverness, careful never to be outwitted by his peasantry? Come to a man like that with a solid gold mortar, and his first question’s going to be…?

That’s right. “Where’s the pestle?”

I tried to tell Father as much, but he—dear, sweet, innocent man—saw only his simple duty and went forth to fulfill it. He trotted into the king’s throne room—it was his public day—all smiles and eagerness.

Alistair took one look at him and saw a peasant tickled to death that he was pulling a fast one on the king—giving up half the king’s rightful treasure in the hopes of keeping the other half and getting a fat reward besides.

Alistair tore into my father—his tongue was much sharper then—taking his argument to pieces until Father half-believed he had hidden away the pestle somewhere, probably after stealing both pieces himself. In his confusion, Father looked even guiltier, and Alistair ordered his guard to drag Father off to the dungeons until they could arrange a proper hearing—and, inevitably, a hanging.

As they dragged him to his doom, my father had the good sense to say one coherent phrase, loud enough for the entire palace to hear. “If only I had listened to my daughter!”

Alistair, for all his brains, hadn’t expected him to say something like that. He had Father brought before him, and questioned him until he learned the whole story of how I’d urged Father to bury the mortar again and not say a word about it, so as to prevent this very scene from occurring.

About five minutes after that, I knocked over a butter churn when four soldiers burst into my father’s farmhouse and demanded I go with them to the castle. I made them clean up the mess, then put on my best dress and did up my hair—in those days, it was thick and golden, and fell to my ankles when unbound—and after traveling to the castle, I went, trembling, up the aisle of the throne room.

Alistair had made an effort that morning to look extra handsome and extra kingly. He still has robes like those, all purple and gold, but the way they set off his black hair and sharp cheekbones that day—I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked half-divine, the spirit of judgment in human form. At the moment, I didn’t feel like laughing at him.

Looming on his throne, he asked me, “Is it true that you advised this man to hide the king’s rightful property from him?” (Alistair hates it when I imitate his voice—but isn’t it a good impression?)

I said yes, it was true, and Alistair asked me why I’d done such a thing, and I said I had known this disaster would result, and he asked how I knew, and I said (and I think it’s quite good), that this is what happens when you have a king who’s too clever to be anything but stupid.

Naturally, Alistair didn’t like that answer a bit, but I’d gotten on a roll, and it was my turn to give him a good tongue-lashing. What kind of king did he think he was, who could look at a man as sweet and honest as my father and suspect him of a crime? Alistair was so busy trying to see hidden lies that he couldn’t see the truth in front of his face. So determined not to be made a fool of that he was making himself into one. If he persisted in suspecting everyone who tried to do him a good turn, no one would be willing to do much of anything for him. And so on and so forth.

You might be surprised at my boldness, but I had come into that room not expecting to leave it without a rope around my neck, so I intended to speak my mind while I had the chance. The strangest thing was that Alistair listened, and as he listened, he lost some of that righteous arrogance until he looked almost human. And the end of it all was that he apologized to me!

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that! I didn’t faint, but I came darn close. That arrogant, determined young king, admitting to a simple farmer’s daughter that he’d been wrong?

He did more than admit it—he made amends. He let Father keep the mortar, and then bought it from him at its full value. Then he gifted Father the farm where we lived, making us outright landowners. After the close of the day’s hearings, he even invited us to supper with him, and I found that King Alistair wasn’t a half-bad conversational partner. Some of those books he read sounded almost interesting.

For a year after that, Alistair kept finding excuses to come by the farm. He would check on Father’s progress and baffle him with advice. We ran into each other in the street so often that I began to expect it wasn’t mere chance. We’d talk books, and farming, and sharpen our wits on each other. We’d do wordplay, puzzles, tongue-twisters. A game, but somehow, I always thought, some strange sort of test.

Would you believe, even his proposal was a riddle? Yes, an actual riddle! One spring morning, I came across Alistair on a corner of my father's land, and he got down on one knee, confessed his love for me, and set me a riddle. He had the audacity to look into the face of the woman he loved—me!—and tell me that if I wanted to accept his proposal, I would come to him at his palace, not walking and not riding, not naked and not dressed, not on the road and not off it.

Do you know, I think he actually intended to stump me with it? For all his claim to love me, he looked forward to baffling me! He looked so sure of himself—as if all his book-learning couldn’t be beat by just a bit of common sense.

If I’d really been smart, I suppose I’d have run in the other direction, but, oh, I wanted to beat him so badly. I spent about half a minute solving the riddle and then went off to make my preparations.

The next morning, I came to the castle just like he asked. Neither walking nor riding—I tied myself to the old farm mule and let him half-drag me. Neither on the road nor off it—only one foot dragging in a wheel rut at the end. Neither naked nor dressed—merely wrapped in a fishing net. Oh, don’t look so shocked! There was so much rope around me that you could see less skin than I’m showing now.

If I’d hoped to disappoint Alistair, well, I was disappointed. He radiated joy. I’d never seen him truly smile before that moment—it was incandescent delight. He swept me in his arms, gave me a kiss without a hint of calculation in it, then had me taken off to be properly dressed, and we were married within a week.

It was a wonderful marriage. We got along beautifully—at least until the next time I outwitted him. But I won’t bore you with that story again—

You don’t know that one either? Where have you been hiding yourself?

Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that one. Not if it’s your first time. It’s much better the way Alistair tells it.

What time is it?

Perfect! He’s in his library just now. Go there and ask him to tell you the whole thing.

Yes, right now! What are you waiting for?

Alistair

Faith told you all that, did she? And sent you to me for the rest? That woman! It’s just like her! She thinks I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and gossip about our courtship!

Where are you going? I never said I wouldn’t tell the story! Honestly, does no one have brains these days? Sit down!

Yes, yes, anywhere you like. One chair’s as good as another—I built this room for comfort. Do you take tea? I can ring for a tray—the story tends to run long.

Well, I’ll ring for the usual, and you can help yourself to whatever you like.

I’m sure Faith has given you a colorful picture of what I was like as a young man, and she’s not totally inaccurate. I’d had wealth and power and too much education thrown on me far too young, and I thought my blessings made me better than other men. My own father had been the type of man who could be fooled by every silver-tongued charlatan in the land, so I was sensitive and suspicious, determined to never let another man outwit me.

When Faith came to her father’s defense, it was like my entire self came crumbling down. Suddenly, I wasn’t the wise king; I was a cruel and foolish boy—but Faith made me want to be better. That day was the start of my fascination with her, and my courtship started in earnest not long after.

The riddle? Yes, I can see how that would be confusing. Faith tends to skip over the explanations there. A riddle’s an odd proposal, but I thought it was brilliant at the time, and I still think it wasn’t totally wrong-headed. I wasn’t just finding a wife, you see, but a queen. Riddles have a long history in royal courtships. I spent weeks laboring over mine. I had some idea of a symbolic proposal—each element indicating how she’d straddle two worlds to be with me. But more than that, I wanted to see if Faith could move beyond binary thinking—look beyond two opposites to see the third option between. Kings and queens have to do that more often than you’d think…

No, I’m sorry, it is a bit dull, isn’t it? I guess there’s a reason Faith skips over the explanations.

So to return to the point: no matter what Faith tells you, I always intended for her to solve the riddle. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t—but I wouldn’t have asked if I’d had the least doubt she’d succeed. The moment she came up that road was the most ridiculous spectacle you’d ever hope to see, but I had never known such ecstasy. She’d solved every piece of my riddle, in just the way I’d intended. She understood my mind and gained my heart. Oh, it was glorious.

Those first weeks of marriage were glorious, too. You’d think it’d be an adjustment, turning a farmer’s daughter into a queen, but it was like Faith had been born to the role. Manners are just a set of rules, and Faith has a sharp mind for memorization, and it’s not as though we’re a large kingdom or a very formal court. She had a good mind for politics, and was always willing to listen and learn. I was immensely proud of myself for finding and catching the perfect wife.

You’re smarter than I was—you can see where I was going wrong. But back then, I didn’t see a cloud in the sky of our perfect happiness until the storm struck.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time. I was looking over the fields of some nearby villages—farming innovations were my chief interest at the time. There were so many fascinating developments in those days. I’ve an entire shelf full of texts if you’re interested—

The story, yes. My apologies. The offer still stands.

Anyway, I was out in the fields, and it was well past the midday hour. I was starving, and more than a little overheated, so we were on our way to a local inn for a bit of food and rest. Just as I was at my most irritable, these farmers’ wives show up, shrilly demanding judgment in a case of theirs. I’d become known for making those on-the-spot decisions. I’d thought it was an efficient use of government resources—as long as I was out with the people, I could save them the trouble of complicated procedures with the courts—but I’d never regretted taking up the practice as heartily as I did in this moment.

The case was like this: one farmer’s horse had recently given birth, and the foal had wandered away from its mother and onto the neighbor’s property, where it laid down underneath an ox that was at pasture, and the second farmer thought this gave him a right to keep it. There were questions of fences and boundaries and who-owed-who for different trades going back at least a couple of decades—those women were determined to bring every past grievance to light in settling this case.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose what little patience I had. I snapped at both women and told them that my decision was that the foal could very well stay where it was.

Not my most reasoned decision, but it wasn’t totally baseless. I had common law going back centuries that supported such a ruling. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all. It wasn't as though a single foal was worth so much fuss. I went off to my meal and thought that was the end of it.

I’d forgotten all about it by the time I returned to the same village the next week. My man and I were crossing the bridge leading into the town when we found the road covered by a fishing net. An old man sat by the side of the road, shaking and casting the net just as if he were laying it out for a catch.

“What do you think you’re doing, obstructing a public road like this?” I asked him.

The man smiled genially at me and replied, “Fishing, majesty.”

I thought perhaps the man had a touch of sunstroke, so I was really rather kind when I explained to him how impossible it was to catch fish in the roadway.

The man just replied, “It’s no more impossible than an ox giving birth to a foal, majesty.”

He said it like he’d been coached, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that my wife was behind it all. The farmer’s wife who’d lost the foal had come to Faith for help, and my wife had advised the farmer to make the scene I’d described.

Oh, was I livid! Instead of coming to me in private to discuss her concerns about the ruling, Faith had made a public spectacle of me. She encouraged my own subjects to mock me! This was what came of making a farm girl into a queen! She’d live in my house and wear my jewels, and all the time she was laughing up her sleeve at me while she incited my citizens to insurrection! Before long, none of my subjects would respect me. I’d lose my crown, and the kingdom would fall to pieces—

I worked myself into a fine frenzy, thinking such things. At the time, I thought myself perfectly reasonable. I had identified a threat to the kingdom’s stability, and I would deal with it. The moment I came home, I found Faith and declared that the marriage was dissolved. “If you prefer to side with the farmers against your own husband,” I told her, “you can go back to your father’s house and live with them!”

It was quite the tantrum. I’m proud to say I’ve never done anything so shameful since.

To my surprise, Faith took it all silently. None of the fire that she showed in defending her father against me. Faith had this way, back then, where she could look at a man and make him feel like an utter fool. At that moment, she made me feel like a monster. I was already beginning to regret what I was doing, but it was buried under so much anger that I barely realized it, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to back down so easily from another decision.

After I said my piece, Faith quietly asked if she was to leave the palace with nothing.

I couldn’t reverse what I’d decided, but I could soften it a bit.

“You may take one keepsake,” I told her. “Take the one thing you love best from our chambers.”

I thought I was clever to make the stipulation. Knowing Faith, she’d have found some way to move the entire palace and count it as a single item. I had no doubt she’d take the most expensive and inconvenient thing she could, but there was nothing in that set of rooms I couldn’t afford to lose.

Or so I thought. No doubt you’re beginning to see that Faith always gets the upper hand in a battle of wits.

I kept my distance that evening—let myself stew in resentment so I couldn’t regret what I’d done. I kept to my library—not this one, the little one upstairs in our suite—trying to distract myself with all manner of books, and getting frustrated when I found I wanted to share pieces of them with Faith. I was downright relieved when a maid came by with a tea tray. I drank my usual three cups so quickly I barely tasted them—and I passed out atop my desk five minutes later.

Yes, Faith had arranged for the tea—and she’d drugged me!

I came to in the pink light of early dawn, my head feeling like it had been run over by a military caravan. My wits were never as slow as they were that morning. I laid stupidly for what felt like hours, wondering why my bed was so narrow and lumpy, and why the walls of the room were so rough and bare, and why those infernal birds were screaming half an inch from my open window.

By the time I had enough strength to sit up, I could see that I was in the bedroom of a farmer’s cottage. Faith was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise, wearing the dress she’d worn the first day I met her. Her hair was unbound, tumbling in golden waves all the way to her ankles. My heart leapt at the sight—her hair was one of the wonders of the world in those days, and I was so glad to see her when I felt so ill—until I remembered the events of the previous day, and was too confused and ashamed to have room for any other thoughts or feelings.

“Faith?” I asked. “Why are you here? Where am I?”

“My father’s home,” Faith replied, her eyes downcast—I think it’s the only time in her life she was ever bashful. “You told me I could take the one thing I loved best.”

Can I explain to you how my heart leapt at those words? There had never been a mind or a heart like my wife’s! It was like the moment she’d come to save her father—she made me feel a fool and feel glad for the reminder. I’d made the same mistake both times—let my head get in the way of my heart. She never made that mistake, thank heaven, and it saved us both.

Do you have something you want to add, Faith, darling? Don’t pretend I can’t see you lurking in the stacks and laughing at me! I’ll get as sappy as I like! If you think you can do it better, come out in the open and finish this story properly!

Faith

You tell it so beautifully, my darling fool boy, but if you insist—

I was forever grateful Dinah took that tea to Alistair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the loophole in his words—I was so afraid he’d see my ploy coming and stop me. But his wits were so blessedly dull that day. It was like outwitting a child.

When at last he came to, I was terrified. He had cast me out because I’d outwitted him, and now here I was again, thinking another clever trick would make everything well.

Fortunately, Alistair was marvelous—saw my meaning in an instant. Sometimes he can be almost clever.

After that, what’s there to tell? We made up our quarrel, and then some. Alistair brought me back to the palace in high honors—it was wonderful, the way he praised me and took so much blame on himself.

(You were really rather too hard on yourself, darling—I’d done more than enough to make any man rightfully angry. Taking you to Father’s house was my chance to apologize.)

Alistair paid the farmer for the loss of his foal, paid for the mending of the fence that had led to the trouble in the first place, and straightened out the legal tangles that had the neighbors at each others’ throats.

After that, things returned much to the way they’d been before, except that Alistair was careful never to think himself into such troubles again. We’ve gotten older, and I hope wiser, and between our quarrels and our reconciliations, we’ve grown into quite the wise pair of lovestruck fools. Take heed from it, whenever you marry—it’s good to have a clever spouse, but make sure you have one who’s willing to be the fool every once in a while.

Trust me. It works out for the best.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale challenge #four loves fairy tale challenge 2024 #the farmer's clever daughter #theme: eros #story: complete #this one was *so much fun*#i was grinning throughout the brainstorming process #faith and alistair just *loved* telling me their story #and especially in the first scenes i kept stopping just because i was having so much fun with the lines #maybe it's horribly boring to read but as a writing exercise it was fantastic #i love these two so much #i haven't had this much fun since writing last year's epistolary story

92 notes · View notes

blueiskewl · 1 year

Photo

Very Rare Roman Gold Coin is Returned to Greece

A Very Rare Gold Coin, Minted by Brutus to Mark Caesar’s Death, Is Returned to Greece

The gold coin, which dates from 42 B.C. and is valued at $4.2 million, is thought to have been looted from a field near where an army loyal to Brutus camped during the struggle for control of Rome.

A rare and ancient gold coin that morbidly celebrates the stabbing death of Julius Caesar was returned this week to Greek officials by investigators in New York who had determined it was looted and fraudulently put up for sale at auction in 2020.

The coin, known as the “Eid Mar” and valued at $4.2 million, features the face of Marcus Junius Brutus, the onetime friend and ally of Caesar who, along with other Roman senators, murdered him on the Ides of March in 44 B.C. According to historians and experts, Brutus had the coins minted in gold and silver to applaud Caesar’s downfall and to pay his soldiers during the civil war that followed the killing.

The return Tuesday came at a ceremony attended by officials of the Manhattan district attorney’s Antiquities Trafficking Unit and U.S. Homeland Security Investigations, who cooperated on the case.

The coin, one of 29 artifacts returned to Greek officials, was given up earlier this year by an unidentified American billionaire who, investigators said, had bought it in good faith in 2020. The British dealer who helped to arrange the sale was arrested in January, and the coin itself was recovered in February, officials said.

Experts said the coin, minted two years after Caesar’s death, is about the size of a nickel and weighs about 8 grams, and is one of only three known to be in circulation. A silver version of the coin was also minted and about 100 are known to exist. Those can sell for $200,000 to $400,000.

“The Eid Mar is an undisputed masterpiece of ancient coinage,” Mark Salzberg, the chairman of Numismatic Guaranty Corp., which verified the coin but does not research provenances, said in a statement in 2020.

Experts said they believe the coin was likely discovered more than a decade ago in an area of current-day Greece where Brutus and his civil war ally, Gaius Cassius Longinus, were encamped with their army.

The front, or obverse, of the coin features an engraved side view of Brutus and the Latin letters “BRVT IMP” and “L PLAET CEST.” Experts say the former stands for “Brutus, Imperator,” with imperator referring not to emperor but to commander. The latter stands for Lucius Plaetorius Cestianus, who was a treasurer of sorts for Brutus and oversaw the minting and assaying of his coins.

The reverse features two daggers on either side of a cap known as a pileus. The daggers stand for Brutus and Cassius and reflect the manner of Caesar’s death, experts say, while the cap is a symbol of liberty that was worn by freed slaves. Overall, the image is meant to celebrate the murder as an act by which Rome was liberated from Caesar’s tyranny. Beneath the symbols is the Latin inscription “EID MAR,” designating the Ides of March — March 15, 44 B.C. — the fateful day on which the conspirators left Caesar dead on the floor of the Roman Senate.

Historians see irony in the fact that Brutus, who had admonished Caesar before the murder for the self-aggrandizing act of putting his face on Roman coinage, wound up doing the same with his own coins.

Ultimately, the forces who favored the dead Caesar, led by Mark Antony and others, defeated Brutus and his men in October of 42 B.C. at the Second Battle of Philippi, and Brutus and Cassius committed suicide.

According to investigators, the coin is first thought to have come to market between 2013 and 2014. Richard Beale, 38, director of the London-based auction house Roma Numismatics, put it up for sale on his company’s website and over several years shopped it at coin shows in the United States and Europe before it was sold in October 2020. The $4.2 million was the most ever paid for an ancient coin, according to the Numismatic Guaranty Corp.

Mr. Beale is charged with grand larceny in the first degree and several other felonies and was released on his own recognizance. His lawyer, Henry E. Mazurek, declined to comment on the case.

Among the other Greek antiquities repatriated on Tuesday were figurines of people and animals; marble, silver, bronze and clay vessels; and gold and bronze jewelry. Their total value was put at $20 million.

In remarks at the ceremony, Konstantinos Konstantinou, Greece’s consul general in New York, said his country has been hit hard by the illicit trading of antiquities and is seeking their return “in every possible way.”

He praised investigators for “striking down the illegal international criminal networks whose activity distorts the identity of peoples, as it cuts off archaeological finds from their context and transforms them from evidence of people’s history into mere works of art.”

By Tom Mashberg.

#Very Rare Roman Gold Coin is Returned to Greece #Julius Caesar #Marcus Junius Brutus #Eid Mar #gold #gold coin #collectable coin #ancient artifacts #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #Mark Antony #Second Battle of Philippi #long reads

205 notes · View notes

kimolisai · 2 months

Text

Using Bing Create with the prompt: best quality, 4k, masterpiece, ultra-detailed, realistic, highly detailed photo, fashion editorial, fashion photography, pregnant african american woman, beautiful eyes, black fantasy dress with flowers gold pattern, gold branch background, natural skin, studio shot, beautiful figure, shallow depth of field, soft atmospheric scenes, powerful portraits, perfect anatomy, best quality, highres, realistic photo, professional photography, cinematic angle, dynamic, light shining,

#ai artwork #ai generated #ai image #bing create #bing image creator #generative art #melanin poppin #black is beautiful #black girl magic #blktumblr #black tumblr #blkgirldaily #blkcreatives

25 notes · View notes

hwei-theories · 2 months

Text

╰┈➤Jhin and Hwei's Secret Quest - Analysis

The secret quest in League of Legends involving Hwei and Jhin killing each other, called "Golden Ratio," adds an interesting dynamic to their interactions.

The Golden Ratio has been recognized and utilized in various fields, including art, architecture, and design, due to its perceived visual appeal and balance. It is believed to create a sense of harmony and proportion that is pleasing to the observer.

Perfection and ideal proportions are frequently attributed to the Golden Ratio. By naming the quest "Golden Ratio," it could suggest that the completion of this quest represents the pinnacle of achievement or the attainment of perfection for both Hwei and Jhin. It implies that their clash and subsequent mutual defeat result in a state of artistic excellence or transcendence.

Balance and harmony are widely recognized as defining characteristics of the Golden Ratio. It represents a proportion that is aesthetically pleasing and visually balanced. The quest name could imply that through their confrontation and simultaneous demise, Hwei and Jhin achieve a moment of perfect balance and artistic harmony.

The Golden Ratio has long been associated with artistic composition and design principles. It has been applied in various art forms, such as painting, architecture, and sculpture, to create visually appealing and well-balanced compositions. By naming the quest after The Golden Ratio, it could suggest that Hwei and Jhin, as artists within the game, are striving for artistic mastery and using their confrontation as a means to achieve a higher level of artistic expression. Their death is their greatest artistic achievement.

The color gold is often associated with both Jhin and Hwei for different reasons (click here for more information, regarding this topic). Gold symbolizes Jhin's elevated status and the grandiosity of his artistic vision.

When Hwei wins the quest, he gains 3.33% Magic Penetration. The statement "Hwei made Jhin witness the depths of his visionary mind" implies that Hwei showed Jhin his new skills and artistic capabilities.

The quote "Understand, Jhin. Understand pain, and peace, and art - like I do, now" suggests that Hwei has gained a profound understanding of the complex emotions and concepts associated with Jhin's artistry, including suffering, tranquility, and the aesthetic beauty of his killings.

If Jhin kills Hwei in the quest, he gains 4,444 Lethality. The statement "Jhin made Hwei into his virtuosic magnum opus" implies that Jhin has turned Hwei into his greatest masterpiece.

The quote "Our fourth and final act draws to a close. The painter falls, and I arise the maestro of death" signifies Jhin's triumph over Hwei, suggesting that he has achieved a pinnacle of artistic expression by eliminating his "rival."

#hwei the visionary #lukai hwei #hwei #hwei league of legends #hwei lol #jhinhwei #league of legends #hwei theory #khada jhin #lol

19 notes · View notes

justforbooks · 5 months

Text

youtube

One of the best songs ever written. Elegance, style, jazz, saxophone, lyrics, black and white video. I always ask myself how is it possible to make a song with sophisticated melody like this, when there is a melody inside other melodies and in the end we have a masterpiece. Sting has a total musical taste, his songs are the best, Fields of gold, Seven days, When we dance, It’s probably me, Shape of my heart, They dance alone, Roxanne. And of course there are so much more. We can count and count. I love him, his music stays with me during all my life.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #sting #englishman in new york

20 notes · View notes

carpentergirl · 1 year

Text

Raising Flags

Tara Carpenter and Amber Freeman are the newest stars on Woodboro High’s Girl’s Soccer team... When Tara gets hurt, all bets are off

Word Count: 2249

Amber Freeman and Tara Carpenter were a force to be reckoned with on the soccer field. The duo just clicked together so well that not even the best defensive players could stop those two from scoring.

The two girls quickly realized their unreal talent after joining Woodsboro’s Girls’ Soccer team their freshman year and before they knew it they had quickly been moved to the varsity team with the upperclassmen. Their chemistry on the field was electric, the way they so easily played off each was like watching a famous artist paint a masterpiece.

Their friends were always their biggest cheerleaders, literally and figuratively. Chad, Mindy, and Wes were always in the stands with cringy signs and face paint. Eager to cheer on the young team members. The entire first season the crew did not miss a game, the tradition followed into Chad’s football season (even if he spent 90% of it on the bench). They quickly added Liv, a cheerleader to their friend group after she recognized Tara at their summer job and complemented their supportiveness for the not-so-football player.

But now they were sophomores heading into their second season on the varsity soccer team. It was a very important game for the duo and well the whole school. They were of course playing their rivals in the name of school spirit.

Tara and Amber were superstitious when they had big games coming up. It started with a sleepover that Mindy always crashed of course followed by Chad and Liv and eventually Wes. They’d get ready for school together and Amber always ensured that Tara took her medication for her Asthma as she didn’t want the younger girl to literally kill herself on the field. They always had pepperoni pizza for lunch and drank yellow Gatorade before heading to practice.

“So ladies, are we gonna rock it tonight?” Mindy asked as they prepared their backpacks. Each girl wore their royal blue jerseys and Mindy of course wore Tara’s gold away jersey that she had proudly stolen from the girl’s closet Carpenter 03 across her back. Amber would describe it as a serious case of FOMO but Tara loved it.

“That's always the plan Ms. Carpenter.” Tara teased the girl. Eying her own jersey on her best friend’s back and chuckling.

“You don’t wear my jerseys” Chad whined from the other side of the table.

“You’re lucky they even let you wear a jersey.” Mindy snapped back. “Plus you gave Liv your jersey remember.” Chad stood up a little stung from his sister’s comment.

“At least he gave it to someone, you had to steal yours” Amber rolled her eyes.

Mindy loved when the little green monster jumped out of Amber it was almost always directed towards Wes but sometimes she could summon it, like when Tara would allow Mindy to rest her head on her shoulder during movie nights or when she would like in this instance steal some of Tara’s clothes. Mindy liked that side of Amber- she was more relatable when she was snarky. Plus she knew that she had secretly wanted to have been the one who was wearing the extra Carpenter jersey, but how could she when she was wearing her own? Why let the opportunity go to waste?

Mindy was hyper-aware of everyone’s dynamics, she loved to use it to her advantage. She knew Amber has had a crush on Tara since last year. The little green monster first appeared when Wes shared the news of him and Tara beginning a relationship last summer. Amber was less than ecstatic, often making the boy’s life as close to a living hell as possible. So when word that they had broken up earlier this summer got out Mindy knew Amber would waste no time schmoozing her way close to Tara. Now the two were inseparable. Mindy was just waiting for indisputable evidence to bring to her best friend’s attention so that the two can live happily ever after.

…

“9 and 14 switch!” Coach Fox called out to Amber on the field. She threw her hands up rushing over to the bench. The game was going great, they were winning 3-1. She didn’t understand why she had been benched or why she would separate her from Tara, but with a stern look from her coach, she just sat down, saving her energy for the later part of the game. She sent a daggering look to Liv across the field in her cheerleading uniform just for the heck of it, she needed someone to feel her wrath and clearly, it was not the field nor her coach.

The rest of the group was in the audience cheering the girls on and absolutely being enamored in the sea of blue. Once again they broke into the face paint. Mindy had each girls’ number painted on either cheek and Chad had alternating eye black in the school’s colors. Wes of course opted out but was wearing a homemade shirt that read I’m with #3 that he had made last season but never stopped wearing it when he and the player broke up.

Tara broke through the neutral zone. The small girl took the ball and dribbled her way past a crowd of orange jerseys. The crowd was on their feet. Tara was about to seal the deal of the game and give her team a 3-point lead and a nearly deadly choke hold. The crowd was roaring. She wound up her leg for a kick and just as her foot was about to make contact with the ball she felt forceful hands meet her chest knocking the air out of her. The crowd fell silent as Tara hit the ground backward, her head bouncing upon contact with the ground, and the opposing teammate landed on top of her.

It felt like she was watching it in slow motion Mindy took off out of the stands trying to get to her friend running faster than she ever had before in her life and the rest followed her.

Amber was on her feet the second she saw the orange jersey zone in on Tara and rushed off the bench the second she had made contact with the smaller girl and to the scene the similar slow-motion effect taking over her vision, She grabbed the player who was on off of Tara by the collar of their jersey ripping them to her feet and pushing her back causing the player to stumble. She was seeing red, a rage fired within her and then before she could even register what was happening Amber delivered a punch square in the face that didn’t go unanswered by a teammate. Eventually, a brawl between both teams broke out before any ref or coach could intervene. Amber at the heart of it threw punches at anyone who tried to get between her and the dick who hit Tara.

Mindy was the first one to Tara’s side; she ran straight through the field and to her motionless friend.

“Tar” She huffed gently, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulder, scared she would hurt her more. She had her back to the brawl trying to protect Tara from the fights behind them.

Whistles were blowing, the crowd was yelling for the refs to make a call on the play, and Chad tried to navigate through the yelling teams to find the one who had thrown the first punch. Removing her from the situation before she got herself into any more trouble, he grabbed Amber holding her arms as she tried to break free from him.

“You want to make a cheap shot then you better be prepared to take one!” Amber yelled at the girl who had tackled Tara. She flailed in the large boy's arms until he basically threw her to the side placing himself in between her and the fight.

“Stop Amber!” He grabbed her shoulders forcing her to plant her feet. “Tara is hurt, you need to stop” He bargained with her and the anger in her eyes faded into a soft one he was unfamiliar with. She stopped fighting against him and dropped her arms. The severity of what happened drew her back to reality. Tara was hurt.

She rushed back towards Tara who was still lying motionless on the field. Wes held her head still as Mindy tried to wake the girl up.

“Tara!” Amber cried falling to her knees next to her. She brushed the loose strands of hair away from the girl's face.

“Come on T, please wake up.” She smoothed the girl's hair. Mindy noticed the tears in the girl’s eyes that threatened to fall, the way it looked like her world was crumbling around her this was definitely indisputable evidence she thought to herself.

“Tara baby please.” Amber whispered. “Please” Amber wiped a small train of blood from Tara’s nose, clearly from impact with the other girl's elbow when they fell. She was disturbingly still. It was honestly terrifying. Moments later the girl's eyes scrunched and she shifted slowly. Amber and Mindy looked at each other as Mindy moved Wes’ hand from the girl. He mumbled something about head injuries in his “mall cop know it all” fashion and Amber pushed him back further making him lose balance and fall on his ass.

Tara’s eyes shot open and quickly closed just as quickly with a groan. She tried opening them again as she tried to sit up. Amber and Mindy quickly pushed her back down, placing a gentle hand on either side of the girl.

“No Tar you need to lie down” Mindy said.

“What happened?’ Tara groaned as she rubbed her temples and kept her eyes shut, the stadium lights burning them.

“Tara, you took a pretty bad hit during the game, we’re waiting for the ambulance.” Liv spoke up, putting her phone back in her pocket. Amber gave the girl a soft thankful look, one that Liv had never even imagined receiving from her.

“No no, the game. I’ve gotta get to the game.'' Tara shook her head sitting up again, a wave of dizziness taking over. This time Amber grabbed her, pulling her into her lap.

“Tara, you're at the game, you got hurt, everything is going to be okay.” She tried to soothe the girl. Mindy gave her a concerned glance.

Tara didn’t remember. Not even something they said a few moments ago.

Tara couldn’t understand what Amver was saying. All she could hear was static ringing and muffled voices. She heard high-pitched whistles that made her head hurt more, oh yeah- her head hurt, how did that happen? Tara didn’t know what was going on. She could barely see anything with these blinding lights and all she knew was she needed to get to the game. She began to panic.

Amber noticed the unevenness of her chest rising and falling as her breathing became labored and hoarse.

“She’s having an asthma attack.” She met Mindy’s eyes, praying she had the girl’s inhaler as she usually would during a game being neither of the girls could keep it and play. Mindy nodded frantically, patting her pockets.

“MINDY NOW.” She yelled startling everyone around her including Tara. Mindy found the inhaler in her hoodie pocket under her jacket and fumbled trying to hand it to Amber.

“Okay baby girl, let’s breathe.” She said Bringing the inhaler to the girl’s lips, Tara’s hands shakily meeting Amber’s.

“Deep breaths, you’re okay.” Amber rubbed her back trying to relax the girl.

“What do we have?” Was the last thing Tara heard before being ushered to the paramedics and into the back of an ambulance.

…

The next time Tara remembered waking up she was home. In the comfort of her own bed. She sat up to look around, instantly regretting it with the dizziness that consumed her. Once she was able to focus she found she had collected quite the crowd in her room. Mandy, Chad, Liv, and Wes all asleep scattered around the floor of her room.

Her heart sank when she didn’t immediately see Amber. She couldn’t remember exactly what happened but she was sure Amber would’ve been here if everyone else was. She went to get out of bed swinging her legs to the edge of her bed.

“Absolutely not.” She heard that voice. The voice she melted to. To be honest it startled her but she automatically relaxed as she heard it again. “You’re staying in bed.”

Amber sat up in the chair that had been moved from her desk to the side of her bed. Tara turned to her. She could see she had been crying tears trails down her cheeks, and she noticed a bruise forming under her eye.

“Amber what happened.” She harshly whispered trying to get to the taller girl who was on the opposite side of the bed. She slowly reached out to examine the injury before her hand was caught by a bruised one.

“Amber.” Tara whispered softly this time.

“What happened?” She took her hand into her own.

Amber got up from the chair and sat on the bed next to Tara. She thought about her words carefully. She laid back gently pulling Tara into her side and stroking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Honestly Amber couldn’t even remember what happened. It was like she blacked out on all the details but she knew one thing: “Let’s just say we’re both benched for a month.”

#tara and amber #tara carpenter #tamber #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #wes hicks #liv mckenzie #amber freeman #Scream 5 #highschool #soccer au #woodsboro

56 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 9 months

Text

How I Really Feel About You

Summary: Bucky’s writer girlfriend moves into the Tower with him. He questions her about her love for Jane Austen’s novels, specifically Pride and Prejudice. For the next movie night he insists they watch Bridget Jones’s Diary and Pride and Prejudice. His reaction and the reaction of the other Avengers surprises her. First person POV.

Length: 3.25K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed OFC, Sam Wilson, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop

Warnings: Imagine Bucky walking across the field as Mr. Darcy (sigh), implied smut.

Author’s notes: I love Pride and Prejudice and while watching the movie again envisioned Bucky Barnes as Mr. Darcy. This is the result.

The movers were scheduled to arrive the following day and I still had so much to pack for my move to the Avengers Tower. After a year of dating when Bucky Barnes, current Avenger and my boyfriend, finally asked me to move in with him into a larger apartment, I said yes. He was everything I ever wanted in a man; just old-fashioned enough to treat me with courtesy and respect, but modern enough not to be threatened by my career that took me away every so often on research trips as I flew around the world, becoming familiar with places I would write about in my novels. Sometimes, he even came with me for a time, or met me there after finishing his own mission. There wasn’t much writing done during those times but his presence certainly added to the romance of those locations, which always made its way into my books.

Being drop dead gorgeous didn’t hurt either, as I still couldn’t believe this man with the body of a god and the face of an angel, had eyes only for me. I could spend a lot of time listing off my own perceived deficits, but Bucky didn’t want to hear them from anyone’s lips. In his eyes, I was perfect, beautiful even when I was on a tear while writing, had bloodshot eyes and stringy hair, while wearing my sweatpants that were a little too tight, so my muffin top was visible. Maybe it was part of his being a 1940s man, but he seemed to like a little padding on a woman’s body, and he certainly liked mine.

Right now, he was helping me finish packing for the move, something I had procrastinated about for several weeks as I finished a final draft of my latest novel before sending it to my editor for fine-tuning. He offered to pack my bookcases, filled with my eclectic and diverse collection of books, memorabilia, and knickknacks, doing a good job until he came to the last one.

“How many different versions and souvenirs of Pride and Prejudice do you need?” Bucky asked.

He was standing in front of what I called “The Shrine,” my collection of all things related to Jane Austen’s masterpiece. It included several different collector book editions; a hardcover one, in dark brown leather with gold gilded letters, a cloth bound edition in red with silver lettering, a special illustrated hardcover edition with protective sleeve and my paperback edition that I actually used to read whenever I felt the need to resume my acquaintance with my favourite title. There were DVDs of all the movie and television versions, including the special collector’s edition of the BBC/PBS series starring Colin Firth, and Jennifer Ehle. Then there were the literary texts about Pride and Prejudice, followed by the knickknacks, souvenirs, and the photo album with the photographs of the various actors that I always took with me to comic cons, premieres and any other occasion where I might run into one of said stars, in the hopes of getting their autographs. It was my obsession and until Bucky started packing the individual items into boxes, I don’t think he realized how much I loved the book, the series, and the movies that I couldn’t watch enough times.

“Says the man with a bookcase full of Hobbit and Lord of the Rings books and the DVDs,” I replied from the linen closet. “But I’m fine with that because I know you love them and they’re good books, good movies, and your Gandalf action figure is pretty cool.”

He appeared in the hallway, leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed. His face was so serious and for a moment I wondered if he was offended that I brought up his own obsession. From the floor I looked up at him.

“What?” I asked.

“How come you’ve never asked me to watch any of the movies?” he asked. “I know you’ve seen all of the Tolkien movies. Yet, you’ve always saved your Pride and Prejudice movies for girls’ night. Is there something I should know? Are they like Bridgerton and you watch them for the sex scenes?”

“No, there are no sex scenes in Pride and Prejudice although I’m sure there is a porn version somewhere if I Google it.” I shuddered. “I would hate to think what they would do with it. Have you never read it?”

His eyes rolled. “Of course, I’ve read it, well some of it,” he clarified. “What’s the big deal?”

“What do you know about Jane Austen and the times in which she wrote?” I countered.

“Not much,” he admitted. “Enlighten me.”

I stood up as this required my full attention. “She was born in 1775, one of eight children of a clergyman,” I replied, knowing the famous author’s background well. “Well educated, she was also born into a social structure that saw a woman of her status as suitable only to be the wife of a gentleman, and mother of his children. Most marriages of the time were arranged, although her parents were a love match, and a woman was considered the property of her husband. The only women who worked for a living were in the working class. If a higher-class woman had to work because of circumstances it was seen as a drop in her social status, as governess was likely one of the few suitable jobs for her. Jane Austen began writing as a child but by the time she wrote her first published novel in 1811 it is known she had been engaged once but changed her mind and never seemed to be involved with anyone after. It doesn’t mean she wasn’t; it just was never made public. Yet her stories of life for a woman in her social sphere gave a real insight into the pressure women had to marry well, and not necessarily marry for love. Most of her heroines did just the opposite, marrying for love.”

“She didn’t write about sex at all?” asked Bucky, puzzled.

“She didn’t have to,” I explained. “It’s referred to in very genteel terms. A character in Pride and Prejudice runs off with a man who has no intention of marrying her, and although it’s not said that they did the deed, they refer to her ruination, and how that will affect the marriage chances of her sisters. In another novel, there is a reference to a teenage girl who runs off with a man, is discarded by him, and finds herself pregnant after. Because he’s a gentleman, and of a higher status than her, his standing is considered more important than hers. She’s the guilty party even though he sweet talked her into bedding with him.”

“I would have kicked his ass,” said Bucky, his face set in stone. “Talking a young woman into sex then leaving her behind with his child. Too many guys like that even in my time.”

Running my arms around his muscular middle I squeezed him hard until his face softened and he kissed me. He was my knight in shining armour with his still strong belief in how men should treat women.

“There were plenty that would but rich, handsome men of a certain status in those days often took advantage of sweet young girls that they saw as objects to satisfy their desires,” I replied. “It’s a universal truth even now, and Jane Austen was well aware of it. That’s why there have been so many versions of it in both books and movies.”

“How many books did she write?”

“Six major novels, all of them adapted into movies or TV series. There are many shorter novels, I don’t quite remember the number and one of them called Lady Susan was turned into a hilarious movie called Love and Friendship.” I placed my hand on his cheek. “Would you do me a favour and read Pride and Prejudice all the way through? Then, when I’m moved in with you, we’ll watch the most recent movie together. It’s a good adaptation, although it cuts out a lot, but it brings some aspects to the story that I like, and we can talk about the differences. Then someday, maybe on a rainy day, when I’m not writing, and you’re not on a mission we can binge watch the BBC series. It is the definitive version and delves so well into the characters. It’s what made me fall in love with Jane Austen’s writing, and certainly pointed me in the direction of writing as a career.”

That beautiful smile of Bucky’s broke out and he tilted his head at my admission. Ever since we met, and he found out I was a writer, he had often shared his admiration of those who lived by the creation of the written word. Of course, his favourite author was J.R.R. Tolkien, but he was also open to many others, and we often spent time on the couch reading together. One of us would be on their back with their feet or head on the lap of the other; it was interchangeable who was where. It was one of the many things I loved about James Buchanan Barnes, that he considered reading an important part of his life.

A week later, I was completely moved into the large apartment in the Avengers Tower. We had three bedrooms, one for us with our own ensuite, one for guests, as my family liked to visit New York at least once a year, and one to use as my writing office. We had a large living / dining area with a kitchen, although we took most of our meals in the communal kitchen with the other Avengers, some with spouses and significant others. Sam had just made a big pot of jambalaya, and everyone was crowded around with a bowl, eager to get some of the culinary treat.

“So, movie night tonight?” asked Kate Bishop as she walked away with her full bowl. “I’m feeling like we need some action movies.”

“Pride and Prejudice,” stated Bucky. “I want to watch it and then watch Bridget Jones’s Diary.”

Sam nearly spit out his drink and I threw a kitchen towel at him. He grinned at Bucky, ready to unleash his wit on him.

“You want to watch some chick flicks? The human cyborg, former Terminator, the Tin Man wants to watch a couple of romance movies?”

“Asks the man who hasn’t had a girlfriend in how long? Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam when he said it. But you know when two guys are sizing each other up in the school yard and they begin with low level insults then one says something that the other can’t respond to? We were at that point. If Sam’s skin was lighter toned, I’m sure he would have been blushing. Everyone watched the two of them to see what would be said next. Bucky looked Sam in the eye, almost daring him to say something.

“Alright, White Panther, we’ll watch them,” said Sam. “I’m sure they will both be very informative on how to get a girlfriend. The bigger deal is how to keep one.”

Bucky put his arm around me and with a shit-eating grin looked at Sam. “I seem to be managing quite well in that department as well. Don’t I, Darling?”

I grinned at Sam then gave Bucky a long kiss. “You’re a wonderful boyfriend. Why don’t we watch the Bridget Jones movie first then watch the source material second.” I looked at all the others. “Everyone has to watch both movies. If I have to watch all of the Fast and Furious movies, you can watch two versions of Pride and Prejudice.”

I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting everyone to laugh so much at the Bridget Jones version. They especially seemed to enjoy the fight scene between Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver, hilariously critiquing the fighting styles. By the time the movie ended even Sam admitted he had been mildly entertained.

“Take it,” whispered Bucky. “It’s likely all he’ll admit to.”

“What about you?” I asked, quietly. “What did you think?”

“I gained some insights into modern dating that I could have used before I met you,” he said, as he gazed into my eyes. “Maybe I wouldn’t have floundered so much. The double standards certainly haven’t changed from the 1940s.”

We kissed as Kate brought up Pride and Prejudice in the TV menu, noting there was a movie version and a series version. As she looked at the series information, she recognized Colin Firth from the Bridget Jones movie.

“Wait, he played Mr. Darcy in two different versions of the story?” she asked. “Maybe we should watch the series.”

“That’s a whole rainy day of watching that you would have to commit to,” I stated. “It’s more faithful to the original book and it’s best viewed with others who want to watch it with you. The movie is a good adaptation and there is a scene near the end that should take your breath away. If it doesn’t then perhaps Jane Austen isn’t for you.”

“Who’s Jane Austen?” she asked.

“The woman who wrote the original book in 1813,” interjected Bucky. “You should read it.”

I wanted to kiss him again for that. With a shrug she queued up the start of the movie and everyone went to the bathroom, refilled their drinks, and restocked their popcorn and candy. Then Kate started the movie and I let myself become immersed in it.

“He’s hot,” I could hear someone whisper, when Matthew MacFadyen first appeared as Mr. Darcy.

“Isn’t she on Yellowstone?” Someone else asked that when Kelly Reilly appeared as Caroline Bingley.

“Shhh,” was the answer and I inwardly grinned.

When Mr. Collins arrived, there were groans at how awkward and clueless he was.

“Reminds me of some guys I grew up with,” deadpanned Kate, then she yelped when Yelena elbowed her to keep quiet as she leaned forward, taking in everything.

There were some comments at the incredible music score, which I had the CD for, as well as a digital version on my playlist. Finally, we got to the scene between Elizabeth and Lady Catherine. There were whispers of “Bitch” at Judy Dench’s portrayal of Mr. Darcy’s aunt. When Elizabeth sent the old woman on her way I settled back, knowing that my absolute favourite part of the movie was coming. Sure enough, there was Lizzie walking in the early morning mist in her nightgown and housecoat. Intellectually I knew it was highly unlikely the daughter of a gentleman would do that but visually and romantically I could feel the emotions in the scene when she turned to see Mr. Darcy walking towards her in the same mist, his overcoat flaring out as he walked, his chest partially visible through the open top of his shirt. His manly stride was just … perfect.

“Damn,” Sam’s voice was loud enough that I almost giggled.

Several audible exhaled breaths showed the scene had hit the mark and I looked up to see Bucky watching the TV screen intently. There wasn’t even a kiss between the characters while they were silhouetted in the morning sunrise, just them touching their foreheads together. It was magic. When the final scene ended, and the credits began to roll I started to turn around then felt Bucky’s face next to my ear.

“That was good,” he whispered. “We’re going to our room right now.”

Before I could respond he pulled me up and practically dragged me down the long hallway to our apartment where he pressed into me against the wall, kissing me feverishly. It wasn’t until we were both laying on the messy bed after, our legs splayed across each other, that he finally said something about the movie.

“I never knew how romantic it was,” he said, then he shook his head. “It’s not even that. They were so constrained by the morals of the time and the expectations to marry at or above your station, but all of their desires just raged under the surface.” He sighed. “That part at the end when Mr. Darcy comes out of the mist. Did you hear all the gasps? Even Sam was affected. I know that it was in the script but it just ….”

His voice trailed off and I lifted my head, propping it up on my hand as I gazed at him, while running my fingers over his chest.

“Do you remember when we met?” I asked. “I was driving all night to get to New York, and I had the flat tire. There I was, out on the highway, in the dark, the fog coming in and not a vehicle in sight. There was no cell service, and I couldn’t even get the first lug nut off the flat tire.” He raised himself to look at me, propping his head up on his hand and gently caressing my arm with his other hand. “Then out from the dark there you were, dressed all in black in your combat gear, your rifle slung over your shoulder. I should have been afraid, but you just strode right to me and looked at the flat tire.”

“It’s not safe for you here,” he stated. “That’s what I said, isn’t it? I remember. Somehow you had suffered a flat tire right in the middle of our stakeout and I just wanted to get you to safety.”

“Every time I see that scene of Mr. Darcy walking through the mist I’m taken back to that night when you helped a lady in distress. You walked me back to the quinjet and told me to stay there until you were all done with your stakeout. When you had your suspects, you changed the tire and strode through the mist just before dawn to get me. It’s how I really feel about you, Bucky. You’re my Mr. Darcy, in the flesh, except we liked each other from the start. We didn’t have to get through our prejudices to find out that we belonged together.”

“That makes you my Lizzie Bennett, doesn’t it?” He smiled. “My beautiful, smart, incredible girlfriend.”

We slept in each other’s arms, secure in the certainty that we were meant for each other. In the morning, after a quick shower, we headed out to the kitchen and found everyone else already up. As Bucky poured us each a coffee, Yelena came up to us and gestured out the window.

“It’s a rainy day,” she said bluntly. “Perhaps we can watch the miniseries of Pride and Prejudice. You did say it is more faithful to the original book.”

I looked at all the others, who had obviously delegated Yelena to the task of getting our participation. Even Sam was there, looking a little sheepish. But she was right. It was a rainy day and the episodes, if we ran them without interruption would take over 5 ½ hours to watch. There were perhaps better ways to spend the day but to me, there weren’t many. Bucky heated up several breakfast sandwiches for himself while I grabbed a muffin, some yogurt, a banana and a coffee. We settled into a spot on the sofa, as did everyone else. Then Yelena started the playback, the lights dimmed, and we all lost ourselves into the life of a Regency family with five unmarried daughters once again.

One Shots Masterlist

Tumblr Masterlist

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes / pride and prejudice crossover #pride and prejudice

23 notes · View notes

danpuff-ao3 · 1 month

Text

You know...I'm very proud of my playlist crafting skills. A playlist just for me and my jam out sessions is one thing, but making them for my fics was a whole other ballgame. Cue my perfectionism. But my love of music and my love of stories has come together pretty well, I think.

Going back through the Contempt playlist recently was such a great experience. It's like living that story all over again through the songs. Maybe that works best for me as the crafter of both story and playlist, but hey...it's magical for me, at least.

"Pressure" by Muse

I'm trying to keep up to speed with you Your lane changing is oscillating me I'm hitting the ground and I'm sprinting I'm falling behind now I'm tuning out

"I Feel Like I'm Drowning" by Two Feet

All my friends think you're vicious And they say you're suspicious You keep dreaming and dark scheming

"Obsession" by Joywave

There's something Lurking in the back of my mind And lately I feel it sliding into the light

"I Hate You So Much" by Alexander 23

I close my eyes but all I see is you I hate that, I love you so much

"Say It" by Maggie Rogers

I cannot fall in love with you I cannot feel this way so soon I cannot be this way with you I cannot fall in love with you

"Do I Wanna Know" by Arctic Monkeys

Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new

"State of Seduction" by Digital Daggers

You keep my heart under the cover of night Could be the devil in a clever disguise Temptation leads us, it's too late for goodbye Say you're here on my side Want you here on my side

"Mind Over Matter" by Young the Giant

And when the seasons change Will you stand by me? 'Cause I'm a young man built to fall

"Neptune" by Sleeping at Last

Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

"A Little Death" by the Neighbourhood

Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human

"Animal Impulses" by IAMX

I'm tired of this human duet No civilizing hides Our animal impulses

"I Don't Mind" by FNKHOUSER

I am not afraid to Let you be who you wanna be Let you do what you do to me Close my eyes but I wanna see

"Stargirl Interlude" by The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey

A vision of my nails in the kitchen Scratching counter tops, I was screaming My back arched like a cat My position couldn't stop, you were hitting it

"Ride" by Lana Del Rey

I am alone at midnight Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I I've got a war in my mind So, I just ride

"Kiss Me You Animal" by Burn the Ballroom

Kiss me you animal I need to take you in real slow Cause dying on your lips is how I wanna go

"After Dark" by Mr. Kitty

I've been waiting for this moment We're finally alone I turn to ask the question So anxious, my thoughts Your lips were soft like winter In your passion, I was lost

"Bloom" by The Paper Kites

Can I take it to a morning Where the fields are painted gold And the trees are filled with memories Of the feelings never told?

"Don't Let Me Go" by RAIGN

Forever is not enough Let me lay my head down on the shadow by your side Don't let me go Hold me in your beating heart

"Comatose" by Mikky Ekko

In another life we can work it out But we never speak So it's hard to do We don't really want to live this way

"War of Hearts" by Ruelle

I can't help but be wrong in the dark 'Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts I can't help but want oceans to part 'Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts

"You're the One" by Rev Theory

You are the hurt inside of me And you are the one that makes me weak Shadows that crawl all over me Swallow the light that lets me see

"I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys

Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

"Unintended" by Muse

I'll be there as soon as I can But I'm busy mending broken Pieces of the life I had before

#danpuff stuff #spotify #playlist #songs #Spotify

6 notes · View notes

disneynerdpumpkin · 5 months

Text

🌼Scriptures about self-worth🌼

Psalm 139:13-14 "For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well."

1 Samuel 16:7 "But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart."

Ephesians 2:10 "For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago."

Matthew 10:29-31 "Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."

Genesis 1:27 "So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them."

Psalm 139:17-18 "How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand; When I awake, I am still with You."

Romans 5:6-8 "For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

Song of Solomon 2:14 "O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely."

Matthew 6:28-30 "So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?"

Matthew 6:25-27 "Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?"

Song of Solomon 4:7 "You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you."

Psalm 34:5 "Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed."

Psalm 34:7 "The angel of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him, And delivers them."

Isaiah 43:1 "But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob, And He who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine."

1 Peter 3:3-4 "Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious."

You are not worthless. God created you with a special purpose!

God doesn't create ugly, He creates beautiful/handsome. God doesn't make mistakes. You are not a mistake.

God loves you so, so, so much, even when things are tough <3

You are worthy and so loved!

Don't feel insecure about yourself, you are made perfectly in God's image.

Saying that you hate something about yourself is the same equivalent of saying, "Hey God, you made a mistake. You didn't make me right."

But God doesn't make mistakes, He created you exactly as He intended for you to be.

#disneynerdpumpkin #jesus #scripture #scripture about self worth #bible scripture #bible verses #bible verse #christian blog #christian content

12 notes · View notes

mlleclaudine · 1 month

Text

Dark and Mysterious Paintings Designed To Look like Melting Masterpieces

by Jessica Stewart - My Modern Met, April 11, 2024

Milan-based artist Dolaana Davaá combines her love for contemporary and classical art by creating Old Master-influenced paintings that look like they are melting. She also handcrafts all of the frames, which appear to drip along with the finished artwork.

Davaá's handcrafted frames are her specialty. After sculpting them from clay, she uses silicon, acrylic resin, and fiberglass to cast a mold. This mold is then filled with wood pulp, creating a perfect frame that is finished off with gold and other paints to create an antique appearance. The effect is stunning.

Equally impressive are the paintings, which are based on masterpieces from the Renaissance or Pre-Raphaelite period. Expertly created, they faithfully mimic the originals until they begin to droop like a melting scoop of ice cream. By perfectly blending the painting and the frame, Davaá has ensured that the illusion is seamless.

“The melting was never anything new in the field of creative art,” she shares with My Modern Met. “I have seen so many beautiful examples over the years, but I noticed that I didn’t see the frames melting together with the paintings. In fact, the frame was often out of concept or partially deformed; seemed incomplete to me. So I did, combining my love of classical art with a desire to take a contemporary art direction.”

Davaá hopes that her work shows her deep love for classical art and its visual language while also helping people understand that contemporary art can look and feel different from their expectations. Her paintings, which are a bit dark and mysterious, provoke strong emotions and, at the same time, wonder.

You can see more of Davaá's work and her creative process by following her on Instagram, and purchase work—or commission a painting—via her Etsy shop.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dolaana Davaá (@dolikart)

instagram

Dolaana Davaá: Instagram | Etsy

#art #melting paintings #Dolaana Davaá #My Modern Met #April 2024 #long post #Instagram

3 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

Text

Coyote

Coyote is a girl with yellow hair. She sits on a bench near the edge of town, the only non-resident, the only non-naked person, the only animal.

She has been here for weeks. She has learned about all the people in town, who don't call each other names and have names of their own, who don't go shopping or watch movies and work in the fields. She has seen the way they treat each other. There is something wrong here, in her town. There is a sickness, an emptiness. Coyote wants to find it and put it to bed. (And when she finds it, she will tell everyone in town, and no one will ever go to the fields again.)

Coyote is the girl who doesn't speak. She spends most of the day in silence. She stares at the sun. She stares at the empty sky. She stares down at her hands, which are long and graceful, and the color of yellow leaves, with her fingernails painted white.

One evening, she sees a man walking through town. He is not naked. He has a shirt and a pair of pants and shoes. The only person in town who does not live in a house made of stone, or in a cage, or in a field of flowers.

This is unusual. The man looks kind of out of place here. He is not just walking down the street, head down. He is walking along the sidewalks with one hand at his waist, gesturing with his head. "Howdy!" he says, when he sees her. His voice is not deep. Coyote does not know his name.

Coyote asks him where he lives. She is polite, but not friendly. She does not make eye contact with him when she asks this. He asks her where she's from. She asks if he's ever been outside town. He smiles. "Howdy!" he says. "Nope. Only in and outta that field." He laughs. "Gotta wait till I make it into the world. But I like it here, you know?"

This is a very strange thing for him to say. And Coyote doesn't understand why he said it. She sits for a while thinking about it. He walks through the streets, saying, "Howdy." When he sees someone, he says, "Hey! Howdy!" He waves his hand in greeting to the trees. He points at a billboard. He laughs. "Gotta watch them cars sometimes, though. They'll kill ya quick."

She leaves her bench and follows him through town. He walks down a street, into a small alley. He stops. He taps his knuckles on a glass pane. It is the window of a tiny, dusty shop. It contains some tools. The tools are dusty and they are not clean. There are shelves full of small boxes. And on top of the shelves are many tiny little clay and bone and ivory pieces. They are arranged in rows. The little shop has a door behind the glass.

And when he enters this tiny, dusty shop, the small man starts saying strange things. Things to Coyote that make no sense. "Don't you know about me?" he says. He makes a face. "This is my showroom. I can't sell everything in here. I gotta have some space. This is just a showroom. If I could sell everything I have all the time."

He holds up a tiny clay thing with many holes in it. "Here's my little guy," he says. "You've never seen one like him. There are not many like him around. I made him up special." He holds the little man out to her.

Coyote puts her hand to her mouth. She feels dizzy, and thinks this is not right. The small man laughs. "I'm glad to see you like him," he says. "Because you're the first person to ever look at him."

The little man puts the man back on the shelf, and then takes out another object. It is much bigger, about as big as a large turtle shell. It is shiny and golden, and smooth. It has no openings, no details, no design. But Coyote knows that this is his best and favorite. He holds it out to her. "My masterpiece," he says. "Don't touch it. I painted this thing with gold. They don't have paint like that anywhere. I used a special kind of paint that was only ever used on the finest things in the world."

Coyote stares at it, and feels a strange cold feeling, as if the inside of her mouth were dry. It is so beautiful, with no details, no color, no surface. She wants to look at it forever, but she knows that her hands will get filthy touching it. She sees him noticing this.

"Come on," he says. "Pick one, any one. You choose. There's plenty. What'll it be? Come on. Come on."

The small man takes her gently by the hand, and leads her to the shelves. He tells her that each little object is hand-made. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of little pieces on the shelves. Every one of them was hand-made by the man himself. Every one of them was only ever seen by him before. If she wants one, she can have it. "Come on," he says. "They're all here. You want to choose."

She looks at the shelves. She studies the rows of little objects on the shelves. She is very far away from him. She does not like looking at them. There is something wrong about them. She wants to take some from the shelves, but she knows she cannot.

"What'll it be?" the man asks. "This is all mine. All my things. All the best things I have. Come on. Choose."

"Nothing," Coyote says. Her throat hurts from not talking. "I don't need anything."

The man opens his mouth in confusion. Then he laughs. Then he says, "Oh, well. Maybe another time. You're the first in a long time to get a chance to see all these things. That's my reputation around here. I'm a very well-known man here. You must have heard me speak, even if you couldn't know I was talking. You're very well-spoken. How did you know to speak like that?"

Coyote stares down at her hands. She feels as though she is going to cry. "I am a person," she says.

The man smiles. "That's all? That's all I was expecting. I wasn't expecting that. Look at that beautiful face. Don't you know people can be anything?"

Coyote walks back to the bench, and sits there for a long time. She thinks about him walking by, with that strange look of a strange man, talking about having a showroom, talking about his little things. She doesn't understand any of it. But the man is kind to her, and she likes him. Maybe he will come back for her one day. Maybe she could come back for him one day. They are different. They do not know each other's names. But they will.

(And when she finds him, she will tell everyone in town to stop going to the fields, and no one will ever go to the empty town again.)

#original fiction

34 notes · View notes

austerlitzborodinoleipzig · 1 month

Text

Favorite Programs of 2023/2024 - Women's SP

I'm debating calling it a good year. There's actually a lot of programs on that list but would i call them masterpieces ? Not really, at least not all of them. While all this programs are good they're not most especially groundbreaking. I feel like most of the field spent the season honing in their particular brand, or aesthetic, not doing that much of exploring with some exceptions.

Honorable mentions

Clare Seo (Simple Gifts) - NOT a Quaker song, thank you very much but a Shaker song (it's another Christian sect tho). I like it very much. I like the music, and Clare has gorgeous posture and musicality. It's very much Americana but I found it fresh.

Mao Shimada (Americano) - costume is the cutest thing. It's chock full of delightful moments and transitions. Looses points because the step sequence has imho too much of two-foot skating and stop-and-pause moments, but that's a recurring problem with Kaitlyn Weaver's choreo.

Seoyeong Wi (Pride and Prejudice) - perfect packaging for a young debuting skater and I'm surprised it's not picked more often.

Rino Matsuike (One Day I'll Fly Away) - One day Rino will choose music that is not a warhorse. Meanwhile I'll enjoy arguably the best skating skills of the field.

9th - Yu-Feng Tsai - Copycat, by Billie Eilish, choreo by Jun-Fei Ren

Arguably the best choreo in the junior field. Fun. Sassy. Unlike anything else seen this season. Okay, yes it was Billie Eilish but it was a song that's not usually picked, it was fresh and it was good.

8th - Niina Petrokina - Run, by Marvin Brooks, choreo by Mark Pillay

I liked her previous SP better, and I'm not that fond of the music but Niina wins this by sheer commitment to the performance. One of the skater where the whole body is innvolved, especially during the step sequence. That's what the GOE bullets are there to award.

7th - Young You - Otono Porteno, by Astor Piazzolla, choreo by Tom Dickson.

The attitude, the sass, the steps, THAT SPLIT JUMP. She did the right thing bringing it back.

6th - Haein Lee - Seirenes, by Christopher Tin, choreo by Lori Nichols and Carolina Kostner

First rule we should live by after this season : whenever Carolina and Lori are involved, they strike gold. Happened to Yuma, happened to Haein. Seirenes is eerie, moody and a very good vehicle for Haein. She had us worried for a moment but did the right thing bringing it back.

5th - Jia Shin - Fascination, by Fermo Marchetti, choreo by David Wilson

I never really got Jia until this season. This is I think her first program that made me go : "okay. I see now why other fans are obsessed with her skating. I get it". If you asked me, I would stop giving Jia twee instrumental pieces and moody ballads and give her waltzes, more classical pieces. Jia has the musicality to keep up those kinds of tempi. She has the lines to express that kind of music. She has the flow to match the rythm. The transitions in and out of her 2A ? Stuff dreams are made of.

With Fascination, I love the music, I love Jia in it, I love watching her hitting those notes, I love her inside edge Ina Bauer during her step sequence... I'm a new fan.

4th - Hana Yoshida - Koo Koo Fun, by Lazer Disk, choreo by Kaitlyn Weaver

I'm fascinated with the way Hana picks her programs because her choices are immaculate. For two seasons straight, down to her gala programs, Hana has picked bangers after bangers. Koo Koo Fun is outside the box, funny, stands out musically, the choreo is quirky...

Doesn't make it straight to the top because every time she skated to it, I found Hana a little bit too stiff for the vibe the program requires. She needs to skate with more abandon and fun and that will only come with experience. Her mind is already there, her body needs to follow.

3rd - Yelim Kim - Ladies in Lavender, by Nigel Hess, choreo by Jeffrey Buttle

I don't remember who on this website said that Yelim's skating makes them believe in a better world, but I do agree. There's something healing in her skating. Right now there's no skater in the field that can match the elegance and quiet dignity of Yelim's skating.

2nd - Loena Hendrickx - I'm Ninalu, by Mors Avraham, choreo by Adam Solya

Loena at her very best and when she's on she pisses everywhere on the stage. I honestly don't get the complaints about doing too much party programs. As long as she serves it as hard as she does, she can take us to the club anytime she wants. I don't care about versatility if a skater has found a niche they do extremely well.

1st - Kaori Sakamoto - Baby God Bless You, by Shinya Kyozuka, choreo by Jeffrey Buttle

Forget what i just said. Kaori wins it but virtue of trying and succeeding in bringing in a new style. The concept is cute. Skating to the string version is the superior choice, as the music is more climatic than with the piano version. And the step sequence shows how above the field Kaori is right now.

#figure skating #kaori sakamoto #loena hendrickx #yelim kim #hana yoshida #jia shin #haein lee #young you #niina petrokina #clare seo #yu feng tsai #rino matsuike #seoyeong wi #mao shimada

4 notes · View notes

asterhaze · 10 months

Note

On mobile so i can't link but from the oc ask game. Pick a boi(gender neutral) to fill in the blanks about

4 Characters fav rec activity

13 oc honeymoon where?

21 Oc hobbies?

I am desperately trying to not drone on and on about Glen. I can't help it. I find him delightfully adorable, stupid, and a true apprentice to the Rizzard of Oz. He's very hard for me not gush about. But when I got this notification, I looked over a list of everything I have posted concerning Masterpiece and realized I actually have talked about Glen and Vlad pretty evenly, but have left my OC Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive pretty unspoken. So Ska it is!

4. This question honestly bamboozled the fuck out of me because trying to figure out the difference between a recreational activity and a hobby was very difficult (the internet was no help) and caused a great argument to emerge in my household when I asked for help. Gold star for causing chaos in my house: ⭐

Every once in a while, when he's not busy, Ska likes to stargaze and mourn the stars he can no longer see due to light pollution obscuring things. It's one of those things he rarely goes out of his way for and just randomly does it until he finds something worth distracting him, like Glen's nonsense.

13. I know I'm the writer of my story, which means I have created the entire world that these OCs live in. This also means that because vampires are what I say they are, demons and fair folk are how I portray them, I should know everything about them. But since I've changed what demons and fair folk inherently are...that makes figuring that out a little difficult. Where do demons go on honeymoon? Do they get married? Are these people just together because "this one bothers me so much less than the others?". Another star for bamboozling me and giving me something to think about for more worldbuilding: ⭐

Though if I pretend that at least Ska would get married, I hope his husband would take him to some sort of giant beautiful garden so he could look at all of the pretty plants that only bloom at night.

21. You will not bamboozle me again, because I have this one in cannon already.

Ska was inspired by my spouse, so I gave them the same hobby because it cracks me up that a teddy bear like my spouse would have the same hobby as a dark, foreboding, anxiety-inducing demon dude. Ska has many gardens, all over his field of influence, that he tends to during the day when his family leaves him alone. He's not very good at it, in fact his gardens are really pathetic considering who he is, but he enjoys it and that's what really matters.

(Yes, my spouse is, just barely, a better gardener. This fact brings my spouse great joy. I don't have the heart to tell either one of them that outside influences are what keeps their plants alive.)

Thank you for asking and giving me the opportunity to shed a crumb of light on Ska. I look forward to explaining how I have changed how demons, fair folk, and vampires work in my world another time. And thank everyone else for reading, I hope I get more asks and tag games soon!

#masterpiecewip #ska the demon #glen #ask answered #writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writerblr #write #writblr #writing community #seriously feel free to tag me

6 notes · View notes

jiannguo · 1 year

Text

Beijing Radio And Television News talks about Xiao Zhan ansld Legend of Condor

When @电影空离英雄传奇之大者 announced, it really wasn’t wrinkling a pool of spring water, it was smashing, it was waves curbing a flying boat. The boats from all sides stopped to "eat melons".

On May 15th, the official issue of this magazine published "When "Xu Guaiguai" formed a group "Xiao Shuaishuai".

"Xu" Tsui Hark, born in 1950 and now 73 years old.

Who is "Shuaishai Xiao"? Xiao Zhan, who was born in 1991 and is considered by many to be "grown on his own aesthetics" @X九少年团肖战DAYTOY

●"Handpicked"? After the official announcement of the film, there is still such a saying: "Tsui Hark hand-picked Xiao Zhan".

"Hand-picked" clearly revealed Tsui Hark's status in the area. Works in the film industry are the most numerous, and Tsui Hark's works are in a basket. Being 73 years old is not a big deal. The accumulated brand effect of good works is estimated to be more than 90 years old.

Encyclopedia has listed a few of Tsui Hark's masterpieces, but in your mind, which of Tsui Hark's masterpieces is it?

Randomly interviewed and found an interesting question: In the era when the funds were not so sufficient and the special effects were rough, compared to the period when the creation was full of vitality and enthusiasm, the works were repeatedly mentioned by fans... At present, Tsui Hark's status in the world is naturally, there is no doubt, but is there any reverse effect of excessive capital and creative inertia?

And Xiao Zhan has "terrific" traffic, not many film works, TV dramas and drama performances are remarkable, coupled with the blessings of fashion and business fields...

● "Shooting the Condors", the production background of the hard-won film, has been dubbed the scale of the "national team" by netizens...

Does Xiao Zhan look like Guo Jing? Guo Jing who is so graceful? No wonder there are comments: "Tsui Hark invited Xiao Zhan to play Guo Jing, how would Jin Yong feel when he found out?" In fact, when Mr. Jin Yong was alive, there were often things where his works were re-shooted so that he didn't like them, and he let go of a lot of cruel words. , Round after round of copyright did not delay the hot sale. Has Jin Yong ever said harsh words to Tsui Hark? Of course there is, and it's not because of Dongfang Invincible...

Finally, the opportunity came again... Anyway, can playing special effects help, don't want to see the reaction of "Xu Guaiguai" and "Xiao Shuaishuai"? Let's see what Guo Jing will become!

● "Strange" and "handsome", the memory has to collide with the "weirdness" of "Xu Guaiguai", which is really enough for the audience to guess.

The story is not suitable for changing the movie? We can't guess how the story of "Old Monster Xu" is constructed! Can you think of "Green Snake" being shot like that? Can you imagine what "Invincible in the East" looks like? Can you think that "Di Renjie" does not burn brains and burn special effects?

Besides, the "handsomeness" of "Xiao Shuaishuai" is enough to make the audience, especially the fans, excited.

There was an exclusive interview with Xiao Zhan, when he was answering interview questions while putting on makeup. Seeing the makeup artist tinkering with his face and head, the difference between before and after tinkering is just a stage effect that is more suitable for a certain period of time.

As for the "Physique" of "Xiao Shuaishuai", everyone has seen the "Soldier King" in "Ace Force". I have interviewed several actors who partnered with Xiao Zhan in "Ace Force", and they are all praised and distressed...

Film is the art of directors. The director's precise guidance, training, and enlightenment can often receive the touch of gold and magic. effect. "Xu Guaiguai" and "Xiao Shuaishuai" form a group, which is the memory of tricks, long-term achievements, linkage... The

classic "Huang Rong", besides Weng Meiling, Zhou Xun, who appreciates Xiao Zhan, leads the official announcement of the film After starring Xiao Zhan is Zhuang Dafei. The little girl was born in 2001 and graduated from the Performance Department of Beijing Film Academy. With Weng Meiling and Zhou Xun's Huang Rongzhuyu in front, I have to say that this girl is really brave.

@庄达菲 If you have to keep working hard, why do you say "Zhou Xun"?

It's not just because she played "Huang Rong", but I asked Xiao Zhan during the interview, who is the actress he admires the most? He replied "Zhou Xun"@i Zhou Xun . The original words at the time were like this:

"I really like Zhou Xun. Her views and experiences fascinate me. Many of her performances make me want to rush into the screen to rescue her. Zhou Xun's performance is very dynamic, as if you are accompanying her to experience the performance. When she talks, my attention will be completely on her, and she has a very great personal charm." Tsk tsk, these words are sincere enough right?

●It is a good thing to form more groups across the border, and it is an era when "personality" wins... It is a good thing for "Xu Guaiguai" to form a group with "Xiao Shuaishuai". Because film and television production has never been done by one person, especially under the current communication characteristics. Crossing generations and blending traits, everyone concentrates on their superior forces, and has a look at it with sincerity.

#xiao zhan #daytoyxiaozhan #daytoy肖战 #肖战daytoy #肖战xiaozhan #sean xiao #肖战 #untamed cast

8 notes · View notes