#Unhap

[dykedvonte]

Curly's little blurb on his steam trading card just keeps reminding me he is a much more miserable person than people realize.

We don't get a lot of his thoughts, inner confliction that aren't bogged down by what Jimmy says or does. Even in the The Last One and Then Another, his dialogue is reflective, not the Curly before the crash but the result of everything. Parts of the him he was are there of course, but also disfigured and warped beyond recognition just like he is physically.

Curly really doesn't think much of himself and desires. He clearly chases fleeting moments of happiness. He doesn't really have prospects for himself, assumes in a similar way to Swansea, that if it should make it happy then he is happy. Though, he hasn't reached the point Swansea did to admit it doesn't. He neither sees the glass half full or empty, it's just water, something he needs and he'll take it from any perspective.

He wasn't running from anything but he's never really been going towards something either. He's listless. I've been using the term complacent to describe how he feels about his life and the closest people (really just Jimmy) in it, but now that word feels too neutral, too nice. Happier than Curly really was. There isn't just one word for it, he's unfulfilled, uncertain, uninspired. There are no active problems he faces and that's the issue, why should he be upset?

I believe he really is a person who doesn't know who he is or wants to be. He follows a structure. I don't think he's suicidal, but he clearly doesn't think about what makes him happy. He's numb. I suppose that is a better word than complacent, used to the feeling even if he hates it. It doesn't hurt so why stop it?

[todaysromano]

09.12.2024

Today, Romano had a lovely picnic at a local park.

Arab.com link

[pink-tk-a-latte]

Don’t wanna go to my dance final… planning to read I love Amy instead of talking to my classmates

[estrangedhermitperson]

If the "last" season of the TV show, Survivor, isn't a bunch of clones of young Jeff, that would suck. Like it's just him, and a bunch of clones, old Jeff being the regular Jeff role, and all the young Jeffs being the Survivors to compete for that role, with the million dollars. The last challenge would be the two clones hosting a season of their own, but they get to train a single person, and if the person they train wins, that means they win their season. Shows should be more elaborate

[loud-mouth-loser]

not him

summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.

pairing: marc spector x reader

rating: angst

warning: drunk kiss, one-sided pining, (kinda) cheating, angst, feelings (?)

w/c: 2.7k

a/n: sometimes you just need to feel needed

part two

----

Steven is the type of guy who has no idea what to do with his hands. But when it comes to you, he’s all hands on deck. He’s touchy and you think it’s partially because he’s touch-starved.

And you are too, but in a different way. 

Where he craves for touch, you simply cannot process the feeling. It’s foreign. Overwhelming. You’re just not used to it.

But you pull through it because you like him.

And he has no idea. 

Steven Grant, the most clueless man in London, gently grasps your hand like you’re not about to keel over from the mere presence of him. You never imagined yourself harboring a massive crush on your best friend, but it’s happened. Or, it’s been happening. 

Steven sees you as a safe and reliable friend – one that wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he were to cuddle behind you or play with your hair. And he’s right, in a way. You do understand exactly what his intentions are. And that is nothing. 

You’re one to never get your hopes up. Preferring to expect the worst so you’re never disappointed in the end. So you’re fine just being there for him because you’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. 

He’s adorable really. At first glance you may think he’s a quiet bookworm, looking for a nice spot against the wall to live out the rest of his days, but really, if you give him a chance, he’ll talk for hours. And you’ll listen. 

He has a higher-pitched voice than you might’ve expected. His British lit takes it up a notch and you think it’s endearing. He can go on and on about different Egyptian mythological stories, telling each one with details that you swear can only be known by those who were actually there experiencing them. 

His eyes light up with a sparkle of his own that you crave to see whenever he’s around. It’s that type of look that spreads his passion and curiosity to whoever's around. You’ve never experienced passion like that until you met him. 

And you want more. You’ll always want more. But…it’s too late.

Steven is taken. No – actually he’s married. Well, let’s take a couple of steps back, he’s actually two guys: Steven and Marc. 

Marc, the American pessimist, is actually married to a woman named Layla and has been for years now. He just decided to show himself out of the blue one day and now he’s part of Steven. Or he always was a part of Steven, just a hidden one. 

Steven, the romantic he is, quickly clicked with Layla and has been chasing after her like a love-sick puppy ever since. And much to Marc’s displeasure, he’s formed a bond with her.

“...And we kissed, can you believe it?” There’s that sparkle again. “I swear to you, she has the softest, most wonderful lips.” He drones on and on about Layla and you can tell it’s all genuine and innocent, which makes it so much worse. “She’s strong and brave, and possibly the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.” 

She’s…perfect. 

The back of your neck prickles with heat as he continues, “I know I’ve only known her for a couple of months, but I think – no, I know that I love her.” There’s a tingle at the back of your throat that tightens at his words, threatening to burn your eyes with tears if you’re not careful. You swallow it back, jaw clenched to control yourself.

After a moment, his warm brown eyes bore deeply into yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. You force a small smile at him, holding back the urge to pull your hands away from his. “That’s great, Steven. I’m so happy for you.” 

You’ve never been so jealous.

—

Turns out you weren’t the only one unhappy with the news. Apparently, Marc punched Steven in the jaw when it happened (meaning he technically punched himself), telling him to stay away from his wife, but, of course, that didn’t stop Steven and Layla from seeing each other after.

So that’s how you formed an unexpected friendship with Steven’s other half. It’s nothing like Steven and Layla, you are simply just friends. Disgruntled friends at that. Drinking buddies if you want to be more accurate.

You’ve shared a case of beer with Marc countless times. Steven sleeps early so as soon as 10 pm rolls around, you’re stuck with Marc. Well ‘stuck’ is a bit harsh, but being that Steven is your preferred company at any time of the day, it’s true. 

But you’ll admit, it’s not that bad. 

He actually talks to you, sometimes. You were surprised the first time you got him to open up about how he and Layla were married, but separated. Apparently, being the righteous man he is, he suddenly made the executive decision to move away for her safety, worrying that his work as an avatar could put her in imminent danger. No wonder Layla was less than jazzed to find out about his life in London. 

You knew a little bit about Marc and the Egyptian god, Konshu, but because it has never really directly affected your life, you’ve never fully believed it. The random bouts when Steven has disappeared, however, have been worrying, but Marc filled in the gaps pretty well while making sure to refrain from sharing any sensitive information. You realize Marc probably doesn’t have many friends he can trust with any information at all, so you’re willing to stay and listen like you would for Steven. And it’s fine. You’re content with the dynamic. 

Marc is just different. More serious, less…gentle. 

But don’t get it wrong, Marc can be enjoyable, even funny sometimes. Sometimes. He has this dry sense of humor that you never expected from him and sometimes it feels like he’s actually engaging in conversation instead of him talking at you.  And when he’s in a really good mood, he even flirts with you for the hell of it. You never take it seriously, but that is something Steven doesn’t like – and he hasn’t even seen the half of it. You brush it off, believing Steven is just being protective while Marc instigates as much as possible to get back at him. 

Tonight is one of those good nights. It started normally: Steven went to bed, Marc got out of bed, and you’re now letting old episodes of a sitcom run in the background as you trade stories about the horrible drivers you’ve encountered in the past. 

“ – Then the guy stops in the middle of the road, green light, and everything, and opens his trunk because he wanted to change his shirt!” 

Marc’s eyebrows are high on his head as he listens animatedly. “Right there?” His hand is wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer that’s half-drained already. He’s on his fifth, you’re on your third. It’s one of the heavier nights, but neither one of you mentions anything. 

“Yes! Right there!” You smile against the mouth of your bottle at the sound of his deep chuckle. It’s so different from Steven’s, but you still enjoy hearing it. Maybe even strive to hear it. You take a deep swallow of your drink then set it down on the crowded coffee table. It’s littered with books, bottles, and a few remotes for various parts of the tv. 

“Did you drive around him?”

“No, he was taking up two lanes with his crooked-ass park job!  Oh my god, people were so pissed, honking and yelling at the guy – He didn’t even care!” You like him like this, light and open, like everything in his past has evaporated off his shoulders. You can see prominent smile lines at the corner of his eyes as he laughs at the story. Sometimes you wonder who put them there. Steven or Marc. Or was it a joint effort? 

The energy in the room dies down as you close the story, but it doesn’t bother you. You just wait for him to continue the conversation, to do his part. That’s how this works: you speak, then he speaks, then you go again. 

But he doesn’t, not this time. 

You look at him, expecting a dumb question or controversial take on something like usual, but he just stares right back, eyes half-lidded. You’ve never seen that look before. 

There’s never any real silence when you and Marc hang out – and even when there is, there really isn’t. That’s why the TV is always on, so you never have space to think. Like really think. It’s like having music play as you eat dinner: the noise plays over the sounds of obnoxious chewing and utensils scraping against plates. 

You need that sound. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to sit here next to him. But sometimes it’s not enough. This time it’s not enough. 

This silence feels different, even as the muffled voice of the TV drones in the background. It’s unnerving and it settles around you, like fine dust over furniture. 

“Is that a new shirt or somethin’?” He sits up slightly against the arm of the couch, eyes sweeping over your body, “I swear, I’ve never seen your cleavage from this angle before.”

“Marc!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Stop looking you perv!” Your face blooms with heat, though it’s already quite warm from the alcohol you’ve been drinking. He has a teasing grin on his face, but his eyes convey something else. 

“Mhm…You wore that for Stevey didn’t you?” His words come out in loops, slurred slightly from the drinking challenge you had earlier in the evening.

“And?” Your ears burn as you confirm his suspicions, “What if I did?”

One of his eyebrows lifts in amusement, “You know he’s in love with my wife, don’t you?”

You frown at him, “Yes, Marc. I’m aware.” Your hand reaches for your bottle of beer if only to have something to look at other than those familiar eyes of his. The label is starting to rub off from the perspiration on the glass.

“Then why do you keep trying?” You feel exasperated. Why do you keep trying? You know Steven’s feelings and intentions, and none of them relate to you. You’re his best friend and he’s…well, he’s taken. You’ve never wanted to risk losing your friendship with him, but at the same time, you’ve never lost hope. 

“I… don’t know.” Your skin itches. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Usually, you and Marc would spend a few hours taking turns talking about nothing then you’d call an Uber home and see Steven in the morning. 

“Well…He’s an idiot.” 

“What –”

Marc sits up, body almost leaning into your space, “Steven has no idea what’s right in front of him.”

“Marc,” 

A hand catches yours and you’re thrown back to that day when Steven told you his feelings for Layla.

You are sitting in the exact same position on the couch as that day: you and him, hand in hand and face to face. But this is different. This time Steven’s mouth is telling you exactly what you want to hear.  

“You’re beautiful.” But it’s not him.

Marc’s gaze searches your face for a reaction, but all you can do is stare back and look into those soft brown eyes. They have that sparkle. The same look you’ve longed to be directed at you since you met Steven. 

You almost give in to that look, wanting to soak in the eagerness flashing in his eyes, but you don’t. You try to take your hands from his hold but he pulls you closer instead. His face is barely a few inches away from yours. 

“We shouldn’t…” Your voice is low in a mere whisper. Like you’re sharing a secret. 

He smells like him, and he should, you suppose, but it’s still odd to think about how Steven and Marc share a body while being completely different people. 

His eyes are different though. His brows sit lower, almost grazing against his dark lashes, infinitely more intense than Steven’s curious look. He’s more alert, or at least, less tired than Steven. And somehow, Steven’s sleepless eye bags disappear when Marc takes control. 

But he also looks at you differently. At first, he didn’t look at you at all. He was standoffish, uninterested, and unimpressed. But now, his eyes bore into you and pin you in place. He’s more than looking at you, he’s devouring you. And you like it.

“We shouldn’t…” He echoes your words almost like he’s agreeing, but his eyes flit down to your parted lips directly contradicting your shared sentiment. “But I want to.” 

“I-...” He follows your tongue as it pokes out and wets your lower lip nervously, his eyes are nearly glazed over with desire. His hand cups your jaw gently and he slowly tilts your face to look at him. You lean into his touch, craving the feeling of his calloused skin against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, but the kiss never comes.

Instead, a soft sigh brushes your mouth as he holds you close, barely a few centimeters from meeting your lips. 

He whispers low with his eyes trained on your parted lips, voice strained with desperation and need, “Please…let me kiss you, sweetheart.” He sounds so broken, yet so sure of this. Like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. You let out a small whimper at his words, unable to hold in how much you want him. His forehead rests against yours, “Tell me you need it as much as I do.” 

You attempt to push against him, to capture his lips with yours, but he doesn’t let you. His hand keeps you just far enough to keep you from what you want.  “Please.” You beg. Rather than giving in, he parts even further from you and you’re met with that hungry look of his once more. 

“Say it.” He sounds so serious, his voice low and rough, but you can tell he wants it as much as you do. He needs this. He needs to hear it. 

“I-I want it.” Your hands come up to cradle his face,  “I want you to kiss me, Marc Spector. I need you.” The last word is barely audible as you crowd closer to him, nose nudging against his as you lean in.

You feel yourself melt against him as his lips meet yours, warm, soft, and bitter from the beer. There’s an unexplainable feeling that zips up your spine when he kisses you back, hungrily moving his mouth against yours. 

You didn’t know a kiss could feel this good. 

There’s a push and pull as you move against each other. As the kiss deepens with desire it’s abated by a softened touch as light as a whisper. You love the small sighs he lets out when you sweetly pull back, letting him chase your lips for softer, more playful nips. And then the deeper sounds when you’re flush against him, eagerly drinking him in.  

By now, you’ve been pulled onto his lap, legs straddling comfortably over his. His chest rumbles with a groan as your tongue brushes against his, desperately taking in his intoxicating taste. You lean further into him, needing to feel his body against yours.

Your hands drift from his jaw into the soft curls of his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless groan of his once more. His hands wrap around your waist and drop to squeeze at your hips, holding you closer as if you aren’t already fully against him. 

At some point, you have to break the kiss, if only for a second of air. You look at each other breathing heavily, wrapped around one another, unwilling to part any further. 

Silence hangs in the air, but it’s light. Barely even there. 

You look at him, and he looks right back, lips swollen with love, or at least the adjacent. 

You let out a breath, more like a sigh of relief, when you see it: that sparkle. It’s still there.

[andreadesantis3806]

A lil continuation to this wonderful prompt by @ariesdiary

I WANNA CONT. THIS T_T (Full credits to @ariesdiary for the wonderful idea) Would've directly reblogged it but for some reason my tumblr is showing error whenever i try to reblogT_T. Pls refer to the linked post to makes sense of whats goin on.

Alicent finally decides to walk up to the boy who maimed her son, the boy she hated for the unfairness of it all, the boy who now is reduced to nothing more than a ghost; drifting from one place to another in the Keep, the boy holding no smiles for any other but his darling sweet new born babe, just like her when she would hold Helaena and find warmth in her sweet girl when the Keep seemed so...cold and merciless.

She found Lucerys exactly as she would have expected, sitting on a plush armchair by the window overlooking the Blackwater bay and its dark enchanting waves. His dark brown hair fell around his eyes as he cradled his little boy close, humming something Alicent vaguely recognized as some song in High Valyrian. The babe was born prematurely, as the midwives had later told The Queen, was weak and pale for the first few days after his birth before slowly improving and being as healthy as a kicking goat.

She remembered coming to see the child, her king-husband's deathly weak form buzzing with joy over his great-grandson. She remembered Lucerys' exhausted face. She remembered her son Aemond walk up to his husband and son. She remembered the hopeful glint in Lucerys' eye which evaporated as soon as Aemond did nothing but spare a few pats and a light kiss on the babe's head before moving away to let his mother approach.

He did not even ask to hold him.

Remembering all that and relating so much, Alicent stopped by the doorway to Luke's room and her nails ripped skin as she decided that Lucerys was not the first person she had to talk to.

-

She found her son in the training yard, engaged in a duel with one of the Cargyll twins. Something hot coiled her insides; anger. Aemond was dueling while his husband turned into a living-dead with each passing moment.

''Aemond.''

White hair whipped around as her son turned towards her voice. He panted with exhaustion and remaining adrenaline as he frowned.

''Mother?''

''Come with me.''

She turned to walk away, living no room for refusal.

''What is it Mother?'' He asked, having followed her into a hallway. The sweat was wiped away, the doublet replaced with usual wear.

Alicent pursed her lips, ''Do you not wish to see your son? How he is fairing? How Lucerys is fairing?''

Aemond flinched at the name. Looking away towards the window. The sunlight made it hard for her to fully gauge his reaction. She had seen him done the same whenever his husband would be saying something.

''Does not matter what i want.''

Alicent drew a breath, praying to The Crone for patience.

''And why would you think so?''

Aemond still did not meet her eye, '''He would not appreciate it.''

''And why do you think so?''

Aemond's flinch was barely noticeable, ''He has made it quite clear how unhappy he is within my presence.''

Alicent grabbed her son's shoulders to have him face her fully before swinging her hand swiftly, slapping him hard.

Aemond's face was thrown sideways, the uninjured side of his face turning white to red rapidly. He turned to face his mother; violet eye wide.

''Mother-''

''You foolish, foolish boy! You have lost but one of your eyes yet how an you still be so blind?!''

''Mother- i do not--''

Alicent slapped him again. This too was on the unharmed side of his face. She was not cruel.

''How could you not understand what is happening? Lucerys has done nothing but kind to you since the day your betrothal was announced yet you condemned him! You still continue to condemn him even after you marriage and the birth of you son!''

Aemond clenched his jaw, ''He has shown from the moment we took our vows his unhappiness towards the union, towards me as his husband! How can I face him knowing to see nothing but unhappiness on his fac-''

Alicent's palm met his face again.

She was livid, panting hard and eyes wild with fury. It turns out Aemond despite being intelligent and unparalleled in almost everything, he inherited his foolishness in matters regarding family from his father, and his cowardice to face the truth forefront from Alicent herself.

''If only you took the time to notice--to understand, to just look at your husband for more than a moment long than you would have understood that your claims just the opposite.''

Aemond frowned at her.

''Lucerys looked unhappy during your wedding because he faced your indifference towards him, and processed the fact that you will forever hold nothing but hate towards him, that you will never be able to love him or respect him like a spouse should! And all along you did nothing but feed his assumptions with your attitude towards him. Did you ever see, Aemond? What he has been reduced to? That bright boy now nothing but a shadow of what he used to be; trapped forever in a marriage with someone who will never forgive him, never love him...never love their child.''

''I do not hate our chil--''

''Dont you? Mayhaps you don't....but have you not treated him the exact way your father has treated you? Treated Lucerys like how Viserys treated me all this time?''

Aemond's face blanked out completely, going paler than his natural tone.

Alicent stepped closer to him, eyes finally softening. Her hands grasped his bigger ones roughened by swordfighting. When he met her eyes, they were distant and....sad. 'Sad' was the least complicated word to put what it was.

''My boy....do you truly want history to repeat?''

'''What if you are wrong? What if he truly does not want me....or if he did....does it still remain? After all i did?''

He looked suddenly like the boy who cried in her lap when his dragon egg refused to hatch.

''Do you forgive him?''

His silence was enough answer.

''Do you love him?''

Again his silence spoke more than words ever could.

She smiled at him, ''Then go and show him.''

-

Aemond's footsteps felt heavier and soundless as he walked up to his husband's chambers. They had separate ones, long distances away from each others'.

His face still stung from the slaps from his mother but he was glad.

If she and he were still wrong, then he still take it in stride. But his mother was right, he couldn't live knowing the truth.

It was evening now, the hallways darker and alight with fire torches. He clutched the thing in his hands tighter, faint warmth bringing him comfort.

He knocked twice, hesitant.

Few moments passed and he was sure Luke was not inside, before-

''Come in.''

The voice was light and heavy at the same time, tone of it still not failing to bring an aching relief in his chest.

He pushed the door open gently, a part of him wanting to run away. He still stepped inside the room, which was warmly lit with the hue of the fireplace.

Lucerys stood in front of it, a blue shawl hugging his form. Aemond's breath hitched as he took in the sight. His husband's moonlight pale face glowed in light of the fire in front of him. He had always been beautiful. But as the memory of his mother's angry voice sunk in, he saw how Luke truly was. Haunting and ghostly....just there, but not really.

Luke turned to see him and froze, eyes widening briefly. Aemond gulped, his toes inside his boots curling.

''Aemond...''

He tilted his head, trying to understand why he suddenly was here....when he never was.

''I....''

''Do you..require anything?''

Aemond's heart ached at the voice. Finally realising what he had done to the one he loved.

''I just....wanted..'' Why was it so hard? ''Just wanted to see you...''

Lucerys blinked. He blinked again until a unsynchronized series of blinks ruptured his beautiful doe eyes, eyelashes fluttering. The previous guardedness he had shown when Aemond stepped inside his room vanished to form a mix of surprising and questioning. As if he would never expect such a thing. As if--

Luke's eyes went guarded again.

''Are we required to sire another child?''

Aemond blinked and sputtered, single eye widening, ''NO! no-i-'' He struggled to form words over the sudden sting and guilt in his heart that his husband had learned to expect nothing but that from him. ''No i just....i...well--i brought something...''

Luke frowned in question and realization that it was not what he thought and a little smudge of guilt.

''Oh..i am sorry..''

''You have nothing to apologize for.''

''You are acting quite bemusing today, husband.''

Aemond pursed his lips before he brought out his other hand which was behind his back, holding on to what he had brought.

Lucerys' eyes widened and lips parted in a gasp as he took in what it was.

A dragon egg.

A shade of teal which graduated to a dark indigo.

''For...our son....'' Aemond muttered, before walking forward with shaking legs towards his husband. He stopped when he was close enough just to see the freckles dotting luke's pale skin. Luke's eyes still stared at the egg with a hint of wonder.

Aemond was suddenly unsure of what he did. But he did not know where to start from....he wanted to build what he had broken down, carefully and cautiously. It would take time as the things which are broken down the fastest, takes the longest to repair. But he will wait, forever if he must.

''Its beautiful, Aemond...'' Lucerys whispered, making Aemond let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He slowly turned and walked towards the cot which was placed at the corner of the room.

He felt Luke follow.

Once he reached, the sleeping face of their son met him, something warm trickling through his insides. He was perfect. He had Aemond's pale hair but unlike his straight ones, the child's was curly like Luke's. He knew his eyes too were the same shade as his, so was the chin that was like his own as well as King Viserys' and Rhaenyra's. The nose, cheeks, the shape of his eyes however were all Lucerys. He was perfect. He only held his son twice since his birth, and he longed for more but was hesitant as to how Luke would take it. But since he was violently proven wrong this morning, the hesitation was gone. Of course he wanted to hold the child close, but for now he did not wish to disturb his rest.

He gently placed the egg on the sheets inside, beside the child and sighed. He felt Luke's warm presence beside him. He wished to wrap his arms around him, but held back. Later....he had to rebuilt everything first....

''It will hatch, rest assured...'' He begun. ''I had the Dragon Keepers made sure that there was a pulse beat inside....it won't be like...''

It won't be like mine.

''I know..''

Aemond turned towards the voice, finding Luke to be already staring at him.

There was a glimmer of something in his eyes he had last seen when Luke had just given birth and saw him approach. The one which faded after he had turned away from them.

Now they burned, only just a tiny flame, but still there nevertheless.

Aemond will do everything to make sure it never flickered.

YEP LITTLE OL' ME WHO CAN'T REST WITHOUT A HOPEFUL ENDING. I should be studying Chemistry wtf. But here it is, thanks to the lovely @ariesdiary for kicking my writer's block out of the solar system. Hope yall and @ariesdiary likes it <3

[buckets-and-trees]

King [Steve x Reader]

Characters/Pairings: mob boss!Steve x female!Reader Word Count: 1k Summary: As an archeologist neck deep in a library for research or out in the wilds of desserts and jungles searching for ancient civilizations, you’re not the type you ever thought would catch the attention of one of the city’s mob bosses. They meant nothing to you, and so you never expected it, and you certainly didn’t know how it happened, and yet you find yourself entering the early domestic stages of a serious relationship with Steve Rogers, king of one of the most powerful mob networks in the country, and he’s made dinner for you, seemingly with no agenda…

Content Warnings: a bit of angst, feminist frustration

Additional Notes: Another day, another short piece for my 2022 Holiday Extravaganza! This one was inspired by King by Florence + the Machine. It really hit me hard when I first heard the single earlier this year, and it’s been clawing its way into this little story for many months in my brain.

You threw you plate down into the sink, shattering it, taking Steve completely off guard.

“Hey!”

You slam one hand down onto the counter, and cover your mouth with the other, hanging your head as tears burn behind your closed eyes.

“Hey,” he says again, more quietly now, coming up behind you. “What’s-?“

“No!” You shout, flinching away when his hands went to rest on your shoulders. “I’m not ready!”

“Not ready for what?”

“Kids!” You turn abruptly to face him. “I’m smart enough to know that my mob boss boyfriend isn’t dropping idle comments about children without intent behind them, and they’ve been stacking up all week!”

“Fine. You’re right. I want kids and I want to have them with you.”

You turn to face him finally, the tears having spilled over. Sad and angry. “I’m just not ready now, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s all so easy for you! You only have to dump your seed and then wait nine months for a baby to pop out, and then, what? Pat it in the head once or twice a day? Go off and continue doing what you do every day, while I, on the other hand, a pregnancy will change every single moment of my life! Carrying it to popping it out and then watching over the child for the following eighteen years! I won’t even be able to fly on a damn plane in the third trimester of the pregnancy, and if I can’t fly, how am I supposed to remain one of the forefront archeologists in the field when I can’t even get to the field?”

“Sweatheart–“

“No! Don’t sweetheart me, Steve! Growing up, I was definitely one of those girls who just wanted to go to college, meet the man of my dreams, be swept into the perfect wedding and marriage and pop out five babies before I was thirty. House with the white picket fence, dinner at six, kiss my husband goodbye every morning, but then I finished college, no marriage. Went to grad school, dove into this field, found something exciting that I’m passionate about and damn good at. Still no man in sight. I turned thirty. I actually went to a conference with a bunch of strangers over my thirtieth birthday weekend - it was kind of an unexpected thing that came up, and I accepted because I was so relieved I wouldn’t have to be around my family and friends turning thirty and still single and alone.”

Steve moved forward, wanting to take you in his arms, but you moved back, and held your hand up.

“I need to finish saying this. It took me so long to untangle myself from the fluffy housewife propaganda I was told was the only thing I should aspire to be, to shove away the silent disappointment from other people’s expectations of what I was supposed to do, and to find things that made my heart sing, made my soul burn with purpose just because I wanted them any no one else. And I was happy before you.”

“Are you unhap–”

“No, I was happy before you, and I’m happy now,” you cut him off quickly. “But it’s unfair how easy it is for men, and it’s not your fault, but it is a reality. For me… you know I can’t half-ass something even if I tried. I won’t do it if I won’t do it well, and I don’t know how to… I don’t even know how to be your girlfriend yet. I know you’re not asking me to just give up my life, but I do know you’d prefer it.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said simply.

You shake your head. “Don’t lie. I overheard you on the phone with Bucky last week say how much easier it would be if I could be the simple housewife type of girlfriend.” The words had been horrifically branded into your brain.

Steve exhaled and put his hands on his hips.

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to respond.

“Yes. That’s true. I did say it would be easier. I didn’t say it’s what I want though.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t. As you so aptly noted, I’m always very careful with my words. It would be easier, but I don’t want easy, I want you, and I want you to be happy. The closer we become, the more of a target you are.”

“Oh,” you responded quietly. Steve saw you start to let your guard down, so he stepped forward and brushed his fingers up and down your arm, then grasped your fingers.

“I have been dropping comments about kids and our future because I am ready to talk about it with you. A future with you is what I want, but I was testing the waters trying to get a read on if it’s what you want.” A smirk flitted across his face, and he added, “You have been playing things very close to the chest.”

“Yes,” you huffed, “well, that’s because I’m terrified of falling for you.”

He gently pulled you closer, and you melt against him. “Fall with me then. I’m already at the edge of this terrifying cliff, I’m ready to jump.”

“How can this be terrifying? You’re a mob boss!”

Steve laughed. “That’s nothing compared to handing my heart over to someone else and trusting them not to smash it or throw it away, to literally give them everything – to give you my everything.”

Your chest constricted, breath catching at his words.

His hands moved to the small of your back, securely holding you closer to him. “I mean it. Everything.”

His eyes locked on yours, and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. The moment stretched out between you – he would wait for you to answer – and your heart seemed to stop, freezing the moment in time.

Then finally you reached up and pulled his lips down to yours, crashing fiercely together. You still had so many questions, but you did at least know you were certain about each other now. You would rule your worlds together.

And that's day three of the Holiday Extravaganza! Do we want to see more of mob boss!Steve and his reader? (Archeologist because... why the hell not?)

I think I might have something totally out of left field for you lovelies tomorrow, just depends how the muses go...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 10: Rampike 🥀

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Rampike (n.)

a broken or dead tree, especially the bleached skeleton or splintered trunk of a tree killed by fire.

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Maybe the most October-appropriate word on the list so far! 🎃

This one came out more simple kind of by accident, but it works because I’m still pleased with it & have some IRL things to work around today.

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about my thoughts/process for this piece—Simple or not, I still have plenty to say! ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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After a brief break from the nouns yesterday, we're back with what I would say is one of the more "useful" words that made the prompt list. In nothing else, this is almost certainly the most "October-appropriate" word so far.

Also, Fun Fact: There actually two trees in my yard that if they're not "rampikes" already, they probably will be in the future. It was a dark and stormy night (literally!) back in July, and around 3 or 4 in the morning, there was a massive CRACK of thunder—easily the loudest I've heard in my life—and I legitimately thought at the time that it felt like the lightning had struck our property specifically. Sure enough, the next day when we went outside, there were very visible scars scorched into the upper halves of two dizzyingly tall pine trees that stand together, like twins, in the backyard.

And believe it or not, that didn't really cross my mind when I picked this word out for the list. I did have the passing thought, "Oh hey I guess we kinda have one of those," and that was it! My main motivation for putting it on the list when I was going back through the word candidates I'd picked and making cuts was actually the spooky/October connections.

But hey, it made for a fun story! 🤗

As for the art: I kept things simple for today, but that was actually mostly unintentional for a change. But it does work out because (as I believe I mentioned yesterday) I have some other IRL things I'm having to balance today's Obscutober around. And I do kind of prefer having more simple results but feeling like I covered everything I wanted to vs. having a super detailed mandala where I'm still not sure I accomplished everything I wanted to.

I started with, of course, the split trees, because it was kind of essential they be included and be very prominent (at least in my book). The rest of the mandala was built around them; squiggles to represent the roots, a bit of grass-like representation near the base of the trees, then the larger triangles can either be more vegetation or maybe distant mountains—you decide!

I did pause for a moment after that, unsure of what to do with the empty space that was left and definitely did need something for filler.

Fortunately, the definition helped me out—I opted to do some swirls that are meant to be either wind or a representation of the storm clouds wind strong enough to break big, old trees would come with.

After that, the color scheme was easy. I went for mostly stormy blues, but also I tried to get kind of a lightning effect—but intentionally still abstract/loose—to highlight the splits in the trees, and I did let the tree trunks and the "grass" have touches of color just to help sell the imagery a bit better. It was at this stage that I decided I'd previously added too much hatching to the trees and the dotted triangle borders. Since I have a lot of thinner (white) lines here and was going for a stormy look, the extra white was just competing too hard for visual attention and made the whole thing look way more crowded than it actually is. You can see I left a little hatching on the trees for texture, but that's alk the hatching that survived.

...And that was it! And I don't feel like I really left anything out or missed anything! Unfortunately this is one of the words that I think maybe would have benefitted more from my usual mini-magnet shenanigans more than this mandala one. That's not to say I'm unhappy with how this art turned out—I like it a lot, actually! I just think the concept of broken trees brings out more of the poet in me than the artist, so I'm left wondering what I could've come up with in that other format that might have been deeper/had more substance to it.

Maybe that's something that could be properly explored at another time, but you Sparklers know how I am with hypothetical future projects like that. 😅 I'm going to focus on finishing what I've already started here first!

And I do think that finishes up what I wanted to tell you Sparklers about this piece today. Simple and more to-the point, which is kind of a nice change. They don't all need to be super complex!

So you Sparklers enjoy, and now I get to see how much trouble I have trying to do the cross-posting between those IRL things I mentioned working around. Somehow, I doubt that process will be as simple as the mandala itself was...🙃

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See the Prompt List

Artwork  © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

[bigboipotat]

unhap

[eternitas]

Got some more, these are for squad 4, Asari and Rena

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general?

🎢 - Do they like amusement parks? What’s their favorite ride?

Ask meme

(God this turned out way longer and more indepth than expected and MY GOD DID IT GET DEPRESSING AT TIMES) Thank you so so much for sending this in ♥

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general?

Asari Asaris birthday has always been something he looked forward to. The Doujo would throw a small get together with his course and he'd end up eating sweets with his friends, before he came home and got to spend the evening with his family, having some cake. Obviously all of that became just a lonely and painful memory after the massacre. But once he meets Mai and they become friends, he at least tries to go somewhere with her where they can have good food. When she asks what the ocassion is he doesn't hide that it's his birthday. Though he also tells her that all he wants is not to be alone on that day and finish it off with a good meal. He doesn't need much more. Birthdays of friends are always a high priority for him and he will always make sure to get them at least something small. For birthdays of people that passed he does take a moment to visit that persons grave and leave some fresh flowers. Even though he knows it's more of a consolation to himself.

Rena [CONTAINS SPOILERS] Being the heiress of a quite powerful family, her birthday was always a big celebration as a child. And she really enjoyed it too, until she slowly became a teenager and started to have strong aversions towards the topic of motherhood. She would still get toys related to it and got more and more uncomfortable, all until she fled. In her years outside of the family, Dimitri would get her at least a few slices of cake for her birthday and maybe something that he knew she would enjoy. Once she becomes part of the Neo Vongola she hasn't really shaken the trauma of her past, so she asks everyone to not make a big deal out of it. Together with Hayato, Tsuna then decides to have a small get together in the noon with tea, coffee and cake and afterwards Hayato takes her out somewhere for some fun. It's a very lowkey celebration but it means a lot to her. When it comes to the birthdays of those he holds dear she will get them something selfbaked or small presents to show her appreciation. Though she does sometimes miss birthdays because of the time and space dialation that she experiences when she is absorbed in her work.

Lorenzo Originating from a quite wealthy family with a lot of history, birthday celebrations where always more for the adults than the children. However, Lorenzo was never truly bothered by it. He didn't mind playing the violin for everybody or being shown around while his parents spoke of his accomplishments. He didn't have friends, it was always a competition between the children of wealthier family. At least that is how it felt to him. After he was on his own, his birthday became a day like any other. "I survived another year" he'd say and move on. Recently at the Varia however some people have been keeping track of his birthday and even try to make the day a bit more special by preparing him food or taking over some of his duties. He appreciates it. Since he doesn't give his own birthday much thought, he also doesn't exactly care about the birthdays of others. Though in the past few years he has been keeping track of Avas birthday and made sure to get him a new kind of tea every year. Just for the heck of it. No real reason...

Ava Avas birthday as a young child has been always a wonderful ocassion. The family would have cake and a small celebration with games and music and lots of laughter for their youngest until he fell asleep, satisfied and happy. After loosing his family and being given to his uncle Avas birthday had diminished more and more. Even if Ava asked if they could do something for his birthday the response was usually unhappy or even a decline. At some point he only wished himself a happy birthday. But after coming to the Varia things changed. Squalo took the day off and made sure Avas schedule was free too and took him down into the nearest city for some good tea and cake, gifting him a glass teapot. Since then every birthday the brothers spent the day together. However for 2-3 years now Ava has also been spending more time with Squad 4 and other friends on his birthday. Squalo and Ava still hold up the tradition of cake and tea together, but the remaining time Ava also spends with other friends. Even Xanxus, being difficult as he is, honors this day and never blocks the day for either of the sharks. When it comes to the birthdays of friends and family Ava is incredibly devoted. He wants to at least prepare a birthday present if not more and makes sure to give his best wishes to whoever is the birthday person. When it comes to his brother he goes all out in making sure that particular day is free for him, will even do double the work a week prior and a week after to make up for the lost time on that day. He has now worked together with Dino to make sure that his brother truly, really does take the day to rest and so far Squalo has not found a way to fight their undying resolve.

Sergey Living in a very lively and big extended family means that birthday parties are big celebrations. It doesn't always need a present (in fact with the number of all these kids it's a bit hard to always buy presents) but there is no arguing about taking the day off to come and celebrate with each other. Sergey takes this very seriously and always keeps an eye on scheduling so he can take the day off on one of his siblings birthday. He also always tries to get a present since money isn't much of an issue for him. It's a very important time for him to connect with his family which has been a very important anchor for him throughout all of his life. It's not much different when it comes to his own. He takes the day off and goes to one of his siblings home, depending on who wants to host and allows himself to be celebrated on this day. However he doesn't accept birthday presents as he sees himself as someone who already has everything and if he needs something he will buy it himself. The only presents he accepts are memories (going to a concert together or a small trip) or selfmade presents. Friends' birthdays he also likes to celebrate, especially when his friends let him do that for them, like Ava for example. And then there is Leo. Being Sergeys biggest strength and support throughout his whole life Sergey will do anything to get the day off for both of them and make this a special day for his best friend. After all it is not just Leos birthday...

Leonard [CONTAINS SPOILERS] Birthdays are nice days. When they happen to others. Leo is someone who gladly celebrates birthdays of his friends and Sergeys family. In fact he is always invited as well and has been thoroughly been accepted as extended family. His presents are always thoughtful and sweet and he always writes small meaningful letters to go with them. When it comes to his own birthday however he is a lot more drawn back. After all for many years it has not just been his own birthday, but his twin brothers birthday as well. Being still haunted by the incident that occured he becomes quieter and more reclusive as the depression slams into him like a truck and the memories and phantompain in his throat make it almost unbearable to just exist. That's when Sergey comes into play. His best friend knows how to get Leo out of his depressive slump and pulls him forcefully out of it, promising to make this day especially beautiful. They often end up playing soccer with good weather or boardgames when it's raining outside, and it always ends with them eating apple pie together, setting the table for one more person. There has been an organisation wide ban on touching the plate, cutlery and the piece of cake on it until the next morning when Sergey cleans it up. Anyone who even tries to mess with the tradition will have half the Varia out for their head. Leo doesn't know of it. But he still always feels a slight smile graze his lips when he wakes up to a plate with applepie next to his bed.

🎢 - Do they like amusement parks? What’s their favorite ride?

Asari Oh Asari LOVES themeparks and he will ride anything that is thrilling or interesting, he is that much of an adrenalin junkie. If a ride is also very atmospheric like a dark ride, or the ferris wheel by night, he enjoys that as well!

Rena Definitely also a fan of themeparks and thrill rides but she has some hard limits! If it's a thrill ride she HAS to have tracks under her feet. None of those free leg dangly things or carts so wide she sits outside of the tracks. She also doesn't do horror attractions very well and when she goes to a funhouse/mirror maze she easily becomes anxious and panics so she prefers not to go into those alone.

Lorenzo He doesn't particularly care about themeparks. He doesn't see their appeal, there are screeching kids and drunk people everywhere and the rides may be thrilling for civis but for someone that is part of the Unseen Varia it's not exactly that exciting. If he has to he will participate, but he definitely doesn't have as much fun at it as civilians would have. He also has a knack for getting quickly banned from the shooting and throwing games due to being able to see through the gimmiks and tricks of the stalls and work around them, to the point of easily winning high prizes.

Ava Ava absolutely enjoys trips to an amusement park. It's nice to pretend to be more of a civi once in a while and he finds some healing for his inner child whenever he gets to just let loose and enjoy a day at an amusement park. He has no limits for rides, though at first walk in horror houses were a bit of a challenge as they triggered his trained self defense reflexes. Now that he is older he senses the actors way ahead of time and can safely pretend to be scared. A thing he also really likes is pretending to be weak and meek when he gets to one of those strength meassuring machines, playing up how weak and scrungly he is, only to then nearly demolish the machine. It's always a nice feeling for him to see people so shocked over this meek boy showing such immeasurable strength and he usually gets double the prize if he played his cards right.

Sergey Being the older brother of MANY younger siblings, going to the amusement park is a very common occurance to Sergey. He always finds a way to have fun and enjoy the rides, mostly because it's something that makes his family happy. He doesn't have particular rides he enjoys or dislikes, but he is always willing to put focus on whatever his siblings wish to do.

Leo Like Sergey he enjoys accompanying others to the amusement park. He seldomly if at all goes or seeks it out by himself and he also has no preferences-- but there is one thing... just one that he stays away from no matter what. The mirror maze. It's always something that throws him into a panic attack. When asked why he doesn't answer. And if Sergey is asked he simply says that Leo always sees someone else in the reflections.

[emerynn]

In a post that was… a long time ago, you put in the tags:

“i JUST wrote an essay on this omfg i have SO many thoughts about sir gawain and the green knight”

The post was about how Gawain literally had no way to win in SGATGK. You were talking in the tags about shame culture and the instability of the moral culture and symbols and identity and the like, and I was wondering….Do you have a link to that essay or something?

If not then that’s totally fine, I just ALSO have many thoughts on sir Gawain and the green knight and love not only the poem but the essays and academic articles and stuff surrounding it, and that essay honestly sounds really interesting and cool! So I thought I’d ask, but yeah!

Hey Anon! First of all, thanks so much for coming into my inbox to talk Sir Gawain with me - a very unexpected but very welcome surprise! I'd completely forgotten about that post I reblogged, but yeah, I took a Middle English paper in my second year of uni, and the Sir Gawain essay was my favourite one to research all term. It's just such a fun poem, and like you said, there's so much great discussion to delve into for it. It's been a little while since I thought about it though, so it's so fun to have a reason to shift my brain back into medieval mode again!

It was just a weekly essay (we had to write an essay each week on a different text/author/group of texts), so it was rather frantically researched and wasn't something I was able to spend loads of time on. I don't think I came to any particularly new or interesting conclusions, and I didn't post it anywhere or anything. That said, given that it's pretty short, I'm happy to copy and paste it here for you if you'd like to read it! Like all my uni essays, it was written the day before the deadline in a slightly sleep deprived haze, so it's not the best thing written on Gawain by a long shot, but it'd be lovely to have someone outside of my supervisor read it! Obviously just please don't use it anywhere or plagiarise it, but I assume that goes without saying lol

If you do get around to reading it, I'd love to hear your thoughts! But no pressure at all ofc - honestly it's just super nice to be asked! I'll put it below a read more, along with my sources - thanks again for the lovely message anon :)

‘For man may hyden his harme,   bot unhap ne may hit, For there hit ones is tached   twynne wil hit never.’ What do you understand to be the meaning and significance of Gawain’s last words?

Despite Gawain's confidence in asserting the green gridle as a signal of his fundamentally flawed nature, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight deliberately complicates the reader's ability to interpret the girdle - and by extension, the poem's moral - in such easy metaphorical terms. Gawain's initial symbol, the pentangle, embodies an honour system which sees morality as intertwined with reputation, making Gawain's apparent goodness into a static symbol whose worth depends on its ability to be interpreted by others. By replacing it with the girdle, the poem alludes to the instability of a community-based chivalric moral code. In offering the reader multiple interpretations of the girdle, with Gawain's held in no higher narrative esteem than Arthur's or the Green Knight's, the poem suggests the limitations of relying on community for moral validation, which ultimately leads to a performance rather than practice of morality, and therefore stunts any opportunity for personal growth.

Gawain’s certainty in labelling the girdle a metaphorical scar, to ‘remorde to myselven/ The faut and the fayntyse of the flesch crabbed’ (2434-35), is immediately challenged by two alternative perspectives – the Green Knight’s, and Arthur’s.[1] The Green Knight suggests Gawain take the girdle as little more than a trophy, ‘a pure token/ Of the chaunce of the Grene Chapel at chivalrous knightes.’ (2398-99), ‘pure’ acting in direct antithesis to the charge of sin that Gawain lays against it. Arthur and the court, meanwhile, have an emotionally opposed reaction to Gawain, greeting his morose confession by ‘Laughen loude thereat’ (2514), and appropriating Gawain’s symbol of personal shame into one of communal honour: ‘For that was accorded the renoun of the Rounde Table,/ And he honoured that hit had evermore after.’ (2519-20). The poet presents the reader with three inharmonious definitions, with no individual appearing the obvious source of authority. Thus, Gawain’s attempt at using the girdle to signify a universal truth in his aphoristic statement, ‘man may hyden his harme, but unhap ne may hit’ (2511) is radically undermined. Through offering, and refusing to discredit, alternating interpretations, the Gawain-poet makes his own description of the girdle’s ‘abelef as a buderyk bounden by [Gawain’s] side’ (2485) ironic in the passivity of its phrasing – Gawain may say that ‘unhap ne may hit’, but Arthur’s swift reinterpretation of the girdle repositions it from absolute symbol to simply a belt that Gawain has tied to suit his subjective purposes, and may just as easily untie. This ending marks a significant transformation for the reader’s understanding of the Romantic world Gawain inhabits, previously one in which symbols and epithets can be interpreted to indicate moral truth about an individual; a transition made clear in the movement from the pentangle as Gawain’s symbol, which Ralph Hanna describes as ‘the emblem of a world where meaning is clear and exemplary’ to the girdle, ‘to which meaning must be assigned’.[2] The Gawain-poet upholds the pentangle for its symbolic potential, pausing the narrative to interject, ‘And why the pantangel apendes to that prince noble/ I am in tente you to telle’ (623-24). The and the details provided in relation to the pentangle – ‘Hit is a synge that Salomon sette sumwhyle’ (625)’, ‘Englych hit callen/ Overal, as I here’ (629-30) appeal to the desire for a symbol with absolute meaning. The interpretation that follows of the pentangle’s application to Gawain, representing his five virtues, associates the accuracy of historical and linguistic information about the symbol with the apparently also objective information it relays about Gawain’s moral character. As Putter and Stokes suggest, ‘ethics and aesthetics come very close together in this poem’; in a reputation-based society, a kind of metaphorical vision is encouraged, which allows symbols like Gawain’s pentangle to be correctly interpreted as indicative of his nature.[3] Thus, the Gawain-poet provides the reader with the girdle as an alluring signification of an absolute moral truth, only to complicate this moral to such an extent that the girdle comes to signify the opposite, replacing the pentangle’s moral idealism and certainty with the suggestion that morality may be subjective.

Fitting to his interpretation of the girdle, the Green Knight disdains the kind of performative morality that underlies the reputation-based structure of Arthur’s court, associating it with the pride he has apparently come to test. Thus, he announces, ‘What, is this Arthures house […]. That all the rous rennes of thurgh ryalmes so mony? Where is now your sorqudrye and your conquests[..]/?’ (309-311). The Green Knight’s condescending tone relies upon the inevitable tension between the hyperbolic tales he is aware of, and the disappointing reality. There is a metatextual element to this speech, as the contemporary reader, too, would have heard tales of Arthur’s court’s ‘conquests’, and thus what is within the text a challenge to the pride of Arthur’s court becomes an implicit challenge of the implausibility of the Romance genre. As Ad Putter suggests, in Sir Gawain, the poet appears to deliberately use this fantastical genre to pose ‘an interpretative challenge […] how can we take it seriously?’[4] His response is to explore the psychological ramifications of existing as a character within this canon. As Gawain’s despair at the end of the poem indicates, this mythological society in which reputation is paramount has a fragile moral core. When Gawain flinches during the beheading scene, the Green Knight chastises him by saying ‘Thou art not Gawan’ (2270), alluding to his famed reputation. But what this truly reveals is that no one can be ‘Gawan’, who would not fear his head under a falling axe – within a genre predicated on hyperbolic acts of knightly courage, the Gawain-poet radically asserts the humanity that underlies Gawain’s character and makes living up to his generic reputation impossible. In doing so, the poem not only further undercuts Gawain’s shame at not fulfilling this reputation, but it discredits the entire notion of morality based on chivalry – based, fundamentally, on how good one is judged to be by others, rather than by an internalised moral compass. As A.C. Spearing suggests, the ramifications of this society manifest in a ‘criteria of conduct […] not fully internalized’: thus, Gawain ‘fails to recognize’ that his initial retention of the girdle ‘is a sin’ until it infringes on his reputation – that being, until the Green Knight reveals his knowledge of it.[5] Like Arthur, who responds to the Green Knight’s challenge of the court’s reputation by blushing – ‘The blod schotte for schame into his schyre face’ (317), Gawain, caught out in his lie, feels ‘All the blod of his brest blende in his face,/ That all he schrank for schame’ (2371-72). Their identical responses betray how Gawain’s embarrassment at his contradicted reputation, rather than actual feelings of moral guilt, lie at the core of the shame he associates with the girdle.

The poem thus exposes the flaws of a communal morality system, in which morality becomes more rigid and absolute – either the individual does, or does not, maintain their idealised reputation. Hence, Gawain’s assertion that if he is flawed, he must be fundamentally flawed: ‘Now am I fauty and false, and ferde have ben ever’ (2382). In this sense, the poem’s ending is further unsettling, as Arthur’s absorption of the girdle as a performance piece into the mythos of the court signifies his ignorance as to the dangers of this [MS1] structure. He continues to assume an externalised identity predicated on reputation, and as such, will continue not to scrutinise himself internally. Gawain may view the girdle as a metaphor for shame, and Arthur for honour, but, as David Aers notes, ‘none of this is of much consequence since nothing much will change anyway’; the absolutism of the Arthurian court prevents moral development.[6] The poem’s ending becomes bathetic, as the self-destruction inherent to the Arthurian court is stressed in the characters’ ignorance to their need for moral progression. Indeed, this is made all the more tragic as Gawain has already demonstrated within the poem that he can progress towards his idealised reputation, even if he can never truly fulfil its requirements. When he initially places his head down to receive the Green Knight’s blow, Gawain ‘[shrinks] a little with the schulderes for the scharp yrne’ (2267). As the Green Knight notes, such an act is contrary to his hyperbolically brave reputation, as ‘Gawan […] that is so good holden,/ That never arwed for no here.’ (2270-71). However, Gawain’s response demonstrates his ability to grow towards this role, as he determines not to flinch a second time, and successfully ‘graythly hit bides and glent with no member’ (2292). As Ralph Hanna suggests, the beheading scene is heavily charged with symbolism connoting rebirth, from the New Year setting, to the description of Gawain ‘Never syn that he was burn born of his moder/ [….] half so blythe’ (2320-21), to the spilling of his blood onto white snow, which Hanna calls ‘a tabula rasa on which Gawain must learn to write what he […] is now.’[7] If Gawain has emerged from a metaphorical death morally absolved and able to discover himself anew, then the positive potential of this revelation is immediately squandered in his curt refusal of Bertilak’s invitation back to his castle. His identity is still wholly externalised, and therefore his first instinct upon gaining an apparent greater self-understanding is to return to the court to vocalise it.The Arthurian court has a holistic and restrictive grip on individual identity in Sir Gawain, inescapable not because there is no opportunity to do so, but because the knights themselves – represented in Gawain and Arthur’s definitions of the girdle as still performatively signalling their reputations, just as the pentangle did – are ignorant of the very ways in which their potential is stunted by the structures they inhabit.

In showing the multiple, often conflicting meanings the girdle is given, the poem uses Gawain’s quest of self-discovery to destabilise the very moral structure at the core of the Arthurian court. In doing so, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight suggests the limitations of an external moral compass, and instead encourages the cultivation of the kind of more nuanced, internalised mortality that Gawain fails to realise.

Sources I quoted from: These are definitely worth reading in their own rights, since they express everything I had to say, and do so far better than second-year me ever could! You might have already read it, but if not, I'd particularly recommend the Spearing. I loved his interpretation, and it ended up forming most of the basis for my argument.

[1] The Works of the Gawain Poet: Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, Cleanness, Patience, ed. by Ad Putter and Myra Stokes (London: Penguin Classics, 2014), p.401; all further references to this text will be made in the body of the essay.

[2] Ralph Hanna III, ‘Unlocking What’s Locked: Gawain’s Green Girdle’, Viator, 14 (1983), 289-302 (p.290).

[3] Putter and Stokes, ‘Foreword to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, The Works of the Gawain Poet, p.246.

[4] Ad Putter, An Introduction to the Gawain Poet (London; New York: Longman, 1996), p.45.

[5] A.C. Spearing, The Gawain-Poet; A Critical Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp.224- 25.

[6] David Aers, ‘Christianity for Courtly Subjects: Reflections on the Gawain-Poet’ in A Companion to the Gawain-Poet, ed. by Derek Brewer and Jonathan Gibson (Woodbridge, Suffolk: D.S. Brewer, 1997), p.99.

[7] Hanna, pp.295-96.

[felixtam]

Audiovision Blog Post week 11

1. Research (technical, academic, creative practice)

I have mainly been focussing on developing my technical abilities when it comes to adding effects and modulating certain sound effects to achieve a desired feeling. More specifically, I wanted to work on enhancing the transitional sections as I felt that they did not flow well within the scenes and maybe don't match the genre too well.

While I am pretty well versed in Ableton and its implications, this video tutorial by youtuber 'Syntho' provided a great insight on how to use some of the stock ableton devices and effects for transitional purposes.

Although this video is related more to the music production side rather than sound design, the implications work with both. Some of the techniques I plan on integrating is the use of pitch transposition. As my main character is a sick old man, I plan on using this transposition to warp the sounds around him as he begins his coughing fit sections. This reflects what is commonly used in sections of media where a character may have gotten drugged or is falling ill.

I will pair this with the addition of white noise and the low pass filtering of any dominant low frequencies that my conflict with the pitched down sections.

All together these effects in conjunction create a quite authentic feeling that works effectively in conveying how the character may be feeling.

During the flashback sequences I have also implemented a subtle vintage grain as a motif to the audience that this is in the past, which is supported by the visual colour scheme and elements. I have also re recorded some of the vocal work that I did to try and sound younger.

This involves less violent coughing, clearer breathing and at a more steady pace. This contrasts the heavy restrained breathing and coarse coughing in the present sequences.

This article by 'Boom box post' goes over certain tips from industry professionals around workflow and making your work stand out from others. Some of the take aways surround the exploration of sound design by taking influences from unorthodox and unrelated sources. While using unconventional audio can be risky as it may not convey to the viewer what visual elements are presented, It can also be an effective way for your sounds to be memorable.

Another key tip is to surround yourself with fellow creatives and chain your ideas as two minds are always better than one. This may be pretty obvious but in the past couple days I have shown some of my friends my animation and have received some very insightful feedback and ideas that could be implemented which wouldn't have crossed my mind if it were not for them.

2. Reflection

In class we covered some of the intricacies of the sound design industry, and more specifically the reality of it. I found this class highly informative as it brought light to certain areas that haven't crossed my mind around work and life beyond university.

Mark broke down the intricacies of finding work and his story on how he became a freelance creator through his experiences and internship. The biggest takeaway I got from the lecture was to take any work as a learning and growing experience. By taking on challenges that you may find daunting, this can resultantly lead to personal growth around technical skills, efficiency and overall work ethic. This allows you to become more adaptable to hard situations in the future and broaden your skillset for your portfolio.

However, contrary to this was to trust your gut based on work opportunities. If you feel that you and your partner are not connecting well and aren't understanding/ able to explain their wants and needs, this ultimately leads to a negative experience. Mark covered times where this has led to hours of work translated into nothing, spending time to create something that a client is unhappy.

Instead, learn to accept work that you think will benefit you and relates to possible shared interests or skills that you can offer. This will ultimately improve your work in regards to efficiency and interest in the work. This will also provide a great opportunity to create work that you would be proud to have within your portfolio as it better reflects the kind of work you would like to receive in the future.

3. Progress

This week I mainly focussed on refining and improving some of the minor sound effects that were brought up to me by piers and my partners. These things would be as small as a faint child's voice in another room, or a more period accurate television sound playing in the other room. Overall I am pretty happy with how everything is working out in relation to the score and the overall feel of the environment.

I feel that the environment feels quite authentic, however certain aspects are still missing which can break immersion with the viewer.

Some of the changes I made were:

Creating a more authentic footstep noise for the old woman as at the moment the sound does not reflect her actions and the material of the flooring too well. In order to do so I recorded myself walking around on a hard floor wearing slides and then reduced the reverb and background noise through eq to get that authentic small room sandal sound.

Implementing an inaudible mumbling during the ending scene when they are arguing. This mainly works to increase the noise and chaos within the scene that builds up to the climax. I have filtered and saturated the audio through automation making it increasingly distorted and louder right before everything begins to crumble.

I have also layered more sounds into the crashing of boxes and the items smashing around the room as I felt that they were a bit flat and made it seem that they were just empty boxes before. I recorded most of these sounds myself by using one of those ikea storage containers and filling it with random things, then recording shaking and shuffling with that.

I worked a lot on the overall mix and balance as I naturally just accidentally made it quite quiet during the start and throughout the video it continued to get louder and louder. By adding the 'Span' (spectrum analyser) plugin onto the master chain this allowed me to identify the peaks of the mix throughout the entire animation and isolate the sounds that were causing this disruption.

I also used a reference animation of a similar style as a reference track to get a good idea for the base level I want the video to be at.

Overall I am quite happy with how it is so far, however am still waiting on the actual final final version of the animation in which I was told that there will still be a few changes with the timing and small details.

Bibliography:

[melitaafterfeather]

How to complain to the NHS

Patients whichever the health issue as British citizens have civil right to NHS use of service.

Complain to the relevant department before you make formal external complain against bad intimidating political personal of NHS who do not comply with quality standard.

Medical practitioners administration receptionist all workers at nhs can be disciplined license taken from practicing medicine in Britain.

I am making few complaints for politically bribed personal at NHS GP surgery Ultrasound King Edward Hospital.

Jewish bribed mostly black community that's why I hate immigrants of third class race.

Do your job!

🤺🇬🇧

[agender-witchery]

"Well yeah but Netflix sure isn't unhap-"

NETFLIX HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, THE OPTION IS ON YOUR FUCKING BROWSER. IF NETFLIX GAVE A RATS ASS ABOUT YOU STREAMING TO YOUR FRIENDS ON DISCORD, BELIEVE ME, THEY WOULD FIND A SOLUTION MORE FOOLPROOF THAN HARDWARE ACCELERATION DEFAULTING TO ON.

"Netflix is using hardware acceleration to stop you from streaming to discord"

I AM BEGGING YOU TO LEARN WHAT HARDWARE ACCELERATION IS. MOST OF THE TIME A WEBSITE IS GOING TO SAY "HEY DISPLAY THIS IMAGE" AND YOUR GPU GOES AND SAYS "YEAH THATS A GREAT IDEA, CPU GET ON THAT" AND SO IT GIVES THE CPU THE DATA TO WRITE THE IMAGE TO YOUR SCREEN. THIS IS THE SAME FUCKING PLACE THAT DISCORD PULLS FROM TO SHARE YOUR SCREEN WHEN YOU'RE IN VC WITH YOUR FRIENDS SO IF SOMETHING SUDDENLY MAKES IT SO THAT THE CPU DOES NOT HAVE THAT DATA, FOR INSTANCE IF YOU HAVE HARDWARE ACCELERATION ENABLED ON YOUR BROWSER WHICH LETS YOUR GPU WRITE DIRECTLY TO YOUR SCREEN INSTEAD OF HANDING THE TASK OFF TO YOUR CPU, WELL THEN DISCORD IS JUST GONNA COME UP EMPTY, ISN'T IT?

IT IS NOT A PLOY BY NETFLIX TO MAKE YOUR FRIENDS PAY FOR SUBSCRIPTIONS I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IT IS A LEGITIMATE FUNCTION BECAUSE MOST PEOPLE DO NOT HAVE A CAPABLE PC AND THEY NEED TO SAVE CPU RESOURCES

I WORDED SOME OF THIS WRONG BUT IM JUST TIRED OF EXPLAINING WHAT HARDWARE ACCELERATION IS HOLY SHIT