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pennylanewrites · 11 months

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[used to be my girl] levi ackerman x f!reader

inspired by used to be my girl by the last shadow puppets

cw + what to expect: cheating, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, levi is mean and a tease, marking, missionary and lotus position

find part two here

you loved your partner, erwin. you really did, but god, he was so…vanilla. and you never came with him.

only when you were thinking of your ex instead.

you hated it so much, but sex with levi was so good. he knew exactly where to touch you, kiss you, what position made you scream his name. and you needed to feel that way again so, so bad.

but you and levi were long over. he broke up with you when you became a squad leader, never really explaining why. but you knew well he was just scared. levi had lost too many people in his life, that any new ones he just pushed away. you never tried reasoning with him, you knew it would fall on deaf ears anyway.

and then, you and erwin smith became much, much closer than before. all those late nights in his office, discussing tactics and helping him with mountains of paperwork brought you closer, and closer, until you were sharing secret kisses in dim-lit hallways, until he changed the squad positions to have you close to him, until he fell down on one knee two years later and asked you to marry him when everything was over. of course you said yes, and you were beaming and showing off that tiny diamond on your finger, until everything went to shit.

hange had warned you that erwin is in love with his job. you just never knew it would get so bad, to the point he came to sleep in your shared bed once every two weeks, only pecked your lips in a rush when you asked, only fucked you once in a full moon.

you were still in love with levi ackerman. and now you were standing at the annual gala for the survey corps, in a long blue gown, staring your ex boyfriend up and down. your table was filled with wine glasses, and someone would think you had company, but you were all alone since the start of the event. levi was listening to hange babbling about whatever, his pink lips in contact with a whiskey glass every few seconds.

god, you could eat him up right then and there.

what am i thinking? you brought your cold palm against your burning cheek, opting to look for your fiancé instead. he was nowhere to be found, of course. a gala basically in his honour and he was gone.

your eyes fell on levi again. he was wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled up and black pants. so simple, but so, delicious.

the glass almost fell from your hand when he locked eyes with you.

oh god, he’s coming. make a turn, make a turn, don’t-

“hey, levi.” you gave a half embrace and kissed his cheek, your cheap lipstick leaving a faint red mark right on his cheekbone.

“you look beautiful.” was all he said. “and drunk.”

“i’m not drunk,” you scoffed, “this is my second drink.”

“what, in the last ten minutes?” he motioned to the table and your cheeks turned bright red. “where’s your husband?” his tongue was bitter with sarcasm.

“he’s not my husband. and i don’t know.” you mumbled, embarrassed. what kind of fiancée doesn’t know where her partner is?

“want to get some air?” you only nodded, following him out of the main hall and to a bench overlooking the walls. it was a starry night, the moon was full and you felt like a teenager again. just like you were when you and levi first met.

you watched intently as his hand reached in his pocket for a packet of slim cigarettes. he sighed when he realised his lighter was nowhere to be found, but you came quickly to his rescue. opening your purse, you took out a silver lighter, the initials L.A engraved on the side in tiny letters. levi was surprised you still had that, his eyes never leaving that stupid rock on your ring finger as he let you light his cigarette. he offered you one as well, now his turn to light it for you. your eyes met his. were you wrong to think they were full of longing? was he wrong to think yours were filled with regret?

“don’t tell him i’m smoking.”

“dear husband doesn’t allow it?” you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“he just hates it.”

“it’s a good thing he doesn’t kiss you then. he won’t smell it on your breath.” you turned your head surprised. how did he know?

“everyone knows, y/n.” he replied without you even having to ask. you sighed, staring at the burning cigarette in your hand.

“great. the survey corps’ walking anecdote, ladies and gentlemen.” you bowed to an invisible audience, leaning back on the bench with a frustrated sigh.

“what are you even doing with him?”

“it’s none of your business.”

“it is when i hear you moaning in the supply closet every night.” you let out a surprised gasp. how did he say these things so freely?

“the only person masturbating around cleaning products could be you, levi.”

“then who’s that moaning my name in there? every single night. at 2 o’clock sharp.” his voice came out in a whisper, lips touching your ear as he spoke. shivers ran down your spine and your eyes were burning with guilty tears.

“sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

“sounds like erwin can’t make you cum.”

“shut up!” you got up, looking out in the distance. two familiar arms snaked around your waist, locking against your lower stomach. wet lips came in contact with your neck, and you wanted to pull away so bad. to leave, run to your fiancé and kiss him.

but you couldn’t. and you didn’t.

because it was levi you were in love with.

“levi,” you whimpered and he swore his knees would give right then and there.

“shh. let me have this, let you have this.” he was kissing that spot right behind your ear, his hands roaming your body over your dress.

“someone could see us, levi.” you warned him.

“bet it would turn you on.” fuck, he knew what he was doing. “my room. ten minutes.”

levi went around the building and you went back into the main hall, falling right into erwin’s arms.

“i’ve been looking all over for you.” he scanned your face with worried eyes. “you look…”

“i can feel a migraine starting, erwin. i was just out getting some air.”

“okay, go get some sleep, alright? i’ll be in soon.” your heart skipped a beat.

“no, have fun tonight. you deserve it.” you reached up and kissed his lips softly, tears brimming your eyes.

you practically sprinted to levi’s room, head spinning and heart pounding like crazy. you knocked on the door and levi opened in mere seconds, as if he was standing right behind it waiting for you.

“you took too long.” he took you in his embrace, letting his forehead touch yours as you shut the door behind you.

“i ran into erwin.” you bit your bottom lip when levi showed the slightest hint of annoyance. he pushed you against the door, protecting the back of your head with his hand.

“yeah? did you tell him you’re gonna fuck your ex?”

“n-no.”

“you should have. because he’ll take one look at you tomorrow and he’s going to know.” his lips were attached on your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. god, you missed his touch. you missed needing him.

“levi,”

“what?” his voice didn’t show, but he was worried. scared you’ll regret this and leave, run off to erwin and tell him everything.

“kiss me, please.” you didn’t have to ask a second time, because his lips were slamming against yours, and he was so, so hungry. he lowered his body and his hands were around your thighs. you let him lift you up, wrapping your legs around his torso, letting you take him into the bedroom. two candles lit the room up, and you were hit with memories as soon as he dropped you on the mattress.

“take that off.” he instructed and you began unzipping your dress, but he stopped you. “i meant that.” he pointed at your finger. you didn’t give it a second thought, placing the ring in your purse and throwing it on the floor. “now that.” he pointed at your dress as he undressed himself too. you were too focused on the tricks the flame played on his chiselled abs, his strong veiny arms and muscular thighs.

god, he looked like a greek statue.

“can’t even do that yourself?” he took matters into his own hands, slowly taking your dress off before pushing you down again. he fell on top of you, his knees on either side of your hips and leaned down to kiss you. your lips were locked in place perfectly, like the last two pieces of a puzzle you couldn’t finish.

you took your bra off and let it fall on the floor with the rest of your clothes. levi’s lips latched onto your nipple, his fingers rolling the other one. you arched your back off the bed, moaning softly in his ear. his erection hit against your panties and suddenly you were going crazy.

you needed him. now, and forever. you rolled your hips against him as he kissed your body hungrily, watched him as he slid down until his teeth caught the bow on your underwear. he took them off as quick as he could.

“tell me, does he do this?” he asked, leaving a kiss on your clit. god, you were embarrassingly wet.

“he does…” you looked away, but levi reached your jaw with his hand and made you stare at him.

“but?”

“he doesn’t know where to touch me.” you mumbled.

“does he touch you here?” you felt the pads of his fingers come in contact with the top of your clit. you nodded no. “here?” he asked, slowly pulling his fingers down, to that spot that made your stomach tighten.

“no.”

“that idiot doesn’t know what he’s missing then.” was the last thing levi said before his tongue slipped into your folds. your hand fell on his head, as if out of instinct, and you pulled on his perfectly styled hair, guiding him right where you wanted him. a row of fuck, shit, oh god came out of your mouth. how long has it been since you felt this way? your fingers didn’t do even half of what levi was doing to you right now.

“levi, i’m coming.” you warned and he looked up at you as he added two fingers to the mixture, entering your slick cunt. you couldn’t look away from those mesmerising gray eyes as you moaned in pleasure and that knot in your stomach came undone. levi slowed down until he was off your pussy completely, now coming up to you again.

“has he ever made you this wet?” he kissed you, making you taste your juices mixed with his saliva.

“never.” you were telling the truth. levi was the only man who could ever do this to you. he was like magic.

“can i fuck you?”

“yes, please.” you whined when levi slapped his cock against your clit and you looked up at him through eyelashes painted black, silently begging for him to fuck you. he didn’t wait any longer to enter your cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he adjusted your legs around his ass and leaned down, chests touching, to kiss you.

“you can’t even kiss me?” he teased. how could you? you were a moaning mess, getting louder with every harsh, slow thrust. even though erwin was much bigger than him, levi filled you up perfectly in every way.

he was made for you.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sucking on his neck and those pretty collarbones to muffle your moan. leaning back, you admired the purple and red marks before smiling at him. levi could melt right then and there.

he picked up the pace, fucking you fast into the mattress.

“please, please, please!”

“what, coming again?” he chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eye. “how long has it been, y/n? since someone made you come?”

“too-too long.” you breathed out.

“two years? two and a half?” you knew what he was doing. trying to make you admit he was the last man to make you orgasm.

“oh god, i’m coming!” your walls clenched around his dick, making him moan in pleasure. “levi, levi hold me.”

“i’m holding you.”

“more.” you needed his arms around you. you needed to become one again.

levi pulled you up and into his lap and you wrapped your legs around his torso, arms roaming his back, scratching it. he held you tight, slamming you up and down his cock until you were coming again, and again…

“missed this pussy,” he whined when he felt you clenching again, “missed your claws on my back.”

“give me all of it, levi.” you whispered in his ear and he lifted you up, hips bucking into the back of your thighs as he reached that spot he knew drove you mad. he was close, you could tell. oh god, you didn’t want this to end.

“fuck, i’m gonna-”

“inside me.” you didn’t let him finish. you wanted to feel all of him so bad.

“does erwin cum inside?”

“he doesn’t. he thinks it’s filthy.”

“good. this pussy’s…” his sentence was cut short with a groan and you felt a new, familiar warmth inside you, as he brought you down to fit all of his length, “all mine.” he whispered.

out of breath, you stared at each other. you didn’t want him to pull out. it would all become too real. but your juices combined were making a mess on his lap, so you slowly got up, heading for the bathroom. levi was hot on your heels, accepting the towel you took out for him. you looked at him through the mirror with a sad smile and he returned a serious gaze.

“don’t say this was a mistake.” he blurted out when you opened your mouth to speak. “don’t say anything.” he spun you around and hugged you tight. you could feel his warm breath on your neck, his fingers leaving white marks where he held you, his toes touching yours.

“i have to go.” your voice was shaky. tears fell down your cheeks and dropped on levi’s back, startling him. he pushed you softly and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“stay.”

“i can’t. i’m sorry.” you kissed his cheek and left. levi didn’t come into the bedroom. he waited for you to get dressed, and only when he heard the front door did he go into the room.

he spotted your bag, forgotten on the floor. with a sigh he took it, sat on the bed and opened it. lipstick, his lighter, cigarettes. your engagement ring. he took it in his hand, inspecting it against the light. he leaned to open the top nightstand drawer, a red slick wooden box the only thing inside it. he opened it, comparing the two rings.

“mine’s better. cheap piece of shit.”

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader smut #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi x reader smut #tw infidelity

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galebrainrot2024 · 2 months

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Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 19

Read on Ao3

Full transparency, I did pull some loose lines from a NSFW of mine. No reason for me to totally reinvent the wheel! Enjoy :) Gale's POV

After the rest of their companions retired, Karlach tentatively walked over to Gale and stuck her head in his room, “Pst,” she waved a hand. “Up for a little late night walk about?”

Despite his exhaustion and because the orb didn’t loom over him, he obliged and stood, groaning as he rose to his feet. “Gladly.”

They walked the outskirts of the inn, trailing along the black water’s edge in silence before Karlach broke the silence. “So…” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “How are you feeling? I mean, now that you’re not the only one facing the possibility of death.”

Gale released a quick, short puff of air. “Oh, you know, ever the optimist.” He paused, sitting on the flat rocks overlooking the murky abyss. “I wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone, least of all you. It would be selfish to talk about myself when you’ve only learned of your fate.”

Karlach laughed and shoved his shoulder, “Come off it, mate. I’ve been living on borrowed time and we both knew it, the difference is now it’s been confirmed. It’s not speculation anymore. This engine is going to blow and I’ll be damned if I step foot back in the hells. Besides,” she said, tossing a stick into the lake, “what have I got to offer this world? You were a chosen, an archmage… you have so much to live for and your death is not inevitable.” She looked at him seriously, “You have to reconsider.”

“I’m just a man,” Gale frowned, running a hand over his weary face, “An imperfect one, with needs, wants, and flaws by the bushel. A fragile vessel in which to place potentially world-ending power.”

Karlach groaned and stood to pace. “I hate it when you talk about yourself like that. Mystra must have done quite the number on you, for you to think so little of yourself.”

Gale fiddled with his collar and sleeves, uncomfortable and unaccustomed to such blatant vulnerability. “Well, it’s hard to think highly of yourself once you’ve been reduced to a pitiful excuse to the person you once were. And even more so now that my ex-lover, and goddness of magic, has more or less signed my fate. My end.”

“You have so much to live for,” Karlach expressed, waving her arms. “What about your friends? Tara? Your mother? Tav?” Gale ignored her when she emphasized Tav’s name and he swallowed hard. “Fine, ignore whatever is going on between Tav and you. What about the rest? If I were in your shoes, there’s no way I’d be willing to kill myself for a God like her.”

Gale felt his temperature rise and clenched his fists, “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” She walked back and forth, emphasizing her point with broad strokes, “First, she casts you out with no explanation - I mean, yeah, you meddled in a Goddesses affairs, and she could have at least told you what you’d done. Has she ever told you, the source of the orb’s power I mean?” Gale shook his head and bit the insides of his cheek. “Exactly. So, we don’t even know what this thing is and she, an omnipotent being, couldn’t be bothered to offer you the grace of an explanation? You’re not the first human to make such an error, I’d reckon.”

Gale laughed and shrugged, “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I ought to be angrier… ah… ultimately, it was my fault, my choice - my folly. I thought I knew better than a Goddess… I sought to return one, infinitesimal diamond to her crown. The equivalent of pouring a canteen of water into the Chionthar.” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Sacrificing myself for the rest of the realm feels like adequate punishment.”

Karlach groaned again, “I won’t sit here and listen to you kick yourself while you’re down, mate. It’s too damn depressing. You made a mistake - a foolish one - and a mistake all the same. If Mystra can’t think of another way to extend her forgiveness other than for you to take your own life, she’s not Goddess worth worshipping. We will find another way.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” Gale volleyed back to her. She smirked and threw a fistful of grass at him.

“Hey!” He brushed the leaves from his person, the tension leaving him. She certainly knew how to change his mood. “I don’t appreciate being decorated in this shadowed muck, thank you. Shouldn’t I be the one asking you how you’re feeling anyway? How did this become about me?”

She bellowed, raising her hands to the sky like a penitent. “This is the best day. The best day.”

Gale balked, his eyes widening. “Karlach. You were just given a death sentence. The best day?” He rose a brow at her, skeptical.

“You should know better than most how lonely it’s been to not be able to relish in anyone’s company. For years I’ve been starved of the simple pleasures of being alive. I’m so happy for me - in fact, I might be the happiest woman on the sword cost since I may have someone to cuddle up to tomorrow night…” Gale grinned to match her curled smirk. “I didn’t expect to see him here. He was giving me the old eye, right? I’m not making that up?”

Gale stood and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “He was most definitely giving you the old eye. I’m happy for you, Karlach. Really I am. I.. I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you how worried I am, though. Dammon’s right - the world is better with you in it.”

“Listen,” she clasped his shoulders, looking at him seriously, “I’m never going back. If you said I could die right now or live a thousand years in the Hells, I’d choose to go out now with my freedom intact. I don’t expect anyone to understand that - but I’ve been dealt a hand most people don’t have to contemplate playing. You have, too - you should know better than anyone.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he insisted, “it could give some time to find a proper solution. I have a hard time believing it can’t be managed.”

“You heard Dammon. There is no solution. It’s hell, or bust. I choose bust.” She shook her head and sighed, stepping away from him to look out at the endless blanketed sky. Her voice quavered, “I don’t want to talk about this now. I’ve been given a huge gift. I can touch people I love for the first time in a decade. And for the first time in a decade there are people I care about all around me. Let me enjoy that, please. I just want to celebrate this. At least for a little.” Gale understood the sentiment deeply and allowed the quiet night to consume them.

***

“Answer me true,” Jaheira said, placing her hands on the table. “Do not lie. The parasite is changing you, isn’t it?”

Gale stood behind Tav, observing carefully as she navigated the conversation. He was intrigued by her couth and furtiveness, how she leveraged her tone, her word choice, all while holding her cards tightly to her chest. As the days passed, Gale began to recognize how much he admired this in Tav. How they’d been faced with countless dangers, incredible odds, and she rarely faltered in her conviction. It was inspiring and arousing. He was enamored with how diplomatic she was, how tactful, just how cunning… and her talent with magic… it was enough to make him feel unhinged.

“Well,” Tav said, tracing her finger over the rim of the glass she refused. “I’ve experienced so much since the crash. Who’s to say it’s the tadpole that changed me?”

Jaheira sneered and Shadowheart giggled, earning her an elbow jab from Karlach who was listening intently. “You speak frivolously. Do you not grasp the cost of what we’re dealing with? Look around you… good people, stranded here two feet in the grave. If we��re to survive I have no choice but to trust you. Can I?”

“Trust doesn’t matter -“ Tav said cooly and Gale felt his stomach knot, her confidence was electric. “I’ll get the job done. What happened to being the godsend you’d been praying for?” He felt his lips curl into a crooked grin, and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched her, two snakes in an elaborate dance.

“That was a public display of hope, despite private reservations. I have every reason to be cautious. I’ve traced people like you - people with parasites in their brains. The cult is spreading through the city. Quietly. Quickly. With unsettling deliberation. We tracked them to this ancient village, only to be faced with a man we killed and buried over a century ago. General Kethric Thorm. Remember that name.”

After speaking with Jaheira, the group made a b-line towards the stair to seek out Isobel’s protection - if they were to venture to Moonrise, they’d need much more than crude torches. Gale was seized with the gravity of it all - how much larger than them this was. Larger than just the tadpoles. It was bleak, and he felt a sinking dread that detonating the orb would be the way.

He felt a lithe hand on his shoulder and turned his head as they lingered outside of Isobel’s room. “There will be another way,” Tav murmured and gave his upper arm a reassuring squeeze. He felt sick, overwhelmed by her touch, overwhelmed by the possibilities before him. Gale sought to ignore the creeping thoughts, the unholy things he wanted to do to her each time she touched him.

There was no ale, no potion, no feeling on earth that quite compared to when he looked into her eyes or when she touched him.

Her gaze lingered and Gale felt exposed, naked almost as she peered into his soul, as if she was probing the deepest recesses of his mind. As if she could hear his thoughts.

“How can you be so sure…” he whispered, averting her eyes. He was shocked when he felt her fingers brush his jaw, her gentle grip turning his face to meet hers.

“Because I know you, and I know myself. Neither of us do particularly well when we are told what we cannot do.” They held one another’s gaze for what felt like a millennia before Shadowheart cleared her throat.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this precious moment, we have a cult to ambush, remember?”

They blushed and separated like oil and water. “Right,” Tav said in a strained whisper and they swung open the doors.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience -“ Isobel said, her white hair iridescent in the shadow's light. “The true soul who’s going to save us all. Pleased to meet you.”

“Word travels fast.” Tav said, crossing her arms.

“Hm… it’s a small inn. It’s almost too good to believe. Free from the Absolute’s influence, yet able to walk among cultists... yet, a blessing all the same. Let me guess, Jaheira sent you to beg a protection spell of her favorite cleric.”

As Isobel manipulated the blue light that projected from her palm, Gale cocked a brow at Shadowheart’s scoff. Bold, to openly denounce someone who was offering their guidance and help. Selunite cleric or not, he’d thought her more clever than that. Old wounds die hard, he supposed.

“This should help get you closer to the towers… but there are places it won’t help, where the curse is too strong, darker. The cultists are able to traverse the deepest shadows - the harpers are trying to figure it out.”

“Selunite magic.” Shadowheart scoffed and shook her head, as if to rid herself of the spell. “Dark Lady forgive me.”

“Good nose - like a nasty little terrier.” Isobel quipped, a clip that would have earned a nasty retort from Shadowheart had there not been a strange, threatening noise that engulfed them.

Gale felt a rumbling, as if the ground itself threatened to split open. He reached out, grabbing hold of Tav’s arm. “Something is wrong.”

As Karlach wiped Marcus’s blood from her axe, Gale wiped his face with a cloth. Shadowheart brushed off her armor and rolled her shoulder’s back. “Well. There’s always something, isn’t there.”

“The plot thickens,” Karlach said, taking a gulp of water. “What I’d give for some precedented, run of the mill ass-whopping. This all feels… I don’t know. Too heavy.” Gale’s brow furrowed - it wasn’t often she admitted to feeling overwhelmed.

“This is the same Karlach that fought in the Blood War?” Gale taunted, to which she stuck out her tongue in mock defiance and tossed the bloodied, balled-up cloth at him.

Gale dodged the throw, holding out his arms as if to say 'See that? This Wizard still has some tricks up his sleeve.' Then, he looked steadily at Tav and his face contorted for a moment - was that a flash of jealousy? He licked his lips, trying to add moisture to his desperately parched mouth. Tav’s knuckles were white as they gripped her canteen.

Gale extended a hand to her, “Care to share?”

He admired how her skin flushed, the beads of sweat pooling on her forehead and snaked in miniature rivulets down her cheeks. When she handed him the canteen, her fingers brushed against his knowingly and he felt electrified. Before he could reconcile with himself, the words spilled out of him like a bad batch of Hundur sauce.

“You know… it’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side,” he paused for a moment, embarrassed yet unable to stop, “I once… read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for… other forms of stimulation.” He swallowed some water, though it did little to alleviate the desert inside, “Have you ever read anything on that subject?”

He was acutely conscious of the gleeful shock on Shadowheart and Karlach’s faces. He bit down on the inside of his lip and swayed a bit on his feet before relief consumed him as Tav spoke: “Read it?” she said softly, but with a knowing glint in her eyes that made Gale’s heart flutter, “I could have written the damn thing...” he saw her swallow hard, the hallow of her neck calling out to him like a siren song. What he would give to flick his tongue along the vulnerable skin.

Gale cleared his throat, shifting to conceal his growing arousal. Thank the gods he was wearing a loose robe.”Oh…” he took a deep breath, a lopsided grin betraying his wanton need, “Then might I suggest we pool our knowledge. No sense in letting valuable, first hand experience go to waste.” He tried to steady himself as his mind whirled with salacious details, the lustful heat seeping through his body and soul. He wanted more than her physical body. He wanted all of her - her mind, her soul. To bond with her in a tantric, unworldly experience. “Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking, but standing at your side through such darkness and disrepair...my Gods..” Gale’s face softened, his voice cool. He couldn’t quite manage the rest once he realized he saw the same hunger, the ache in her soul.

The words lodged in his throat, unable to be uttered and so they lingered invisibly in the air: it only makes me want you more.

He wasn't able to spare himself further embarrassment. “Gale - did you just,” Shadowheart broke the silence, “I’m sorry, did you just tell Tav you wanted to have sex with her by citing a book?” Shadowheart giggled, though not out of malice. "After we just murdered a teeming host of winged horrors and a mangled, freaky-cultist? I didn't think you had it in you, to be honest."

The way Karlach began to crack up made his ears burn. The air seemed to crackle, alive and whipping with the impending storm of two bodies desperate to intertwine. Gale and Tav were side by side, he staring down into her enrapturing eyes and allowed himself to indulge in every inch of her face, her body…

Karlach started: “So, Tav, are you going to let the wizard ba-“

But before she could finish her sentiment, Jaheira bounded up the stairs, accosting them and Isobel. The conversation would have to wait.

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petrichormeraki · 1 year

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Tips For Writing C!TommyInnit, From A Loser With Brainrot

Tommy is LOUD. Whether he's angry or excited or playing around, he's usually yelling. He is not aware of how loud he is unless he's specifically raising his voice to overpower the conversation (which he usually only does when he's angry at someone/thing, or to make a point). He's only quieter when he's serious, at peace, or very very sad

TOMMY IS SMART!!! He thinks things through when he has time to do so. He is strategic and considers other people's behaviors when he plans something out (ex building the tower overlooking the prison slowly, so Sam didn't get as suspicious, and making a point to only inhabit it when it was dark to be less noticed). Tommy knows how people act/think if he's familiar with them, and he uses that to his advantage.

However, Tommy's very impulsive, and his emotions overrun his brains very often. This happens the most when he's angry or scared.

Tommy lets people take pity on him 80% of the time. Unless it's a serious situation and he's trying to prove himself, (ex Logstedshire) he LOVES free shit and he very easily falls into the "oh poor little TommyInnit, he has no family to his name and is dirty and cold, won't you spare some netherite for his poor soul?" narrative.

Tommy is childish. He bickers over things that don't really matter and is the epitome of "he started it!!" when he gets in trouble. He also constantly nags at people until they cave to get what he wants. I have no idea how CC!Tommy plays being a youngest sibling SO WELL since he's an only child but that is exactly who C!Tommy is

Tommy is not brave. He hides behind people to avoid danger and he runs away from conflict if he can. The times where this didn't happen (Exile, Final Disc Confrontation, November 16th) were because he was backed into a corner, literally or figuratively, and was forced to fight back.

more under the cut bc this got very long lmao

Tommy is not very private UNLESS it concerns his past trauma. He will talk about what he's doing, every thought in his head, and what he thinks of everything he sees, UNLESS it's recounting what happened to him. Getting information like that from the source is like pulling teeth, even for people he trusts completely. The reasoning for this (best as I can tell anyway) is that he simply just doesn't want to relive it.

Tommy has a very black and white way of thinking about his allies. If someone helps his enemy, they are his enemy too. He doesn't really care about personal motivations or reasonings unless they're close to him (Tubbo) and he does not forgive easily.

However, he also recognizes power. When Tommy ran from Logstedshire, he ran to the person who killed his best friend because he knew Technoblade was very powerful against Dream. Another example is when he ran to Phil when Dream escaped prison and went after him, even though Phil destroyed L'manburg WITH Dream AND killed Wilbur, two things that Tommy vehemently hates him for. Tommy seemed to not be thinking very clearly when either of these events happened, so this may have been a purely impulsive decision made out of fear.

Tommy squirrels away his riches. He only breaks into his ender chest when he really needs the resources, ie diamond armor and weapons for a showdown. He actually has quite a lot of diamonds and gold if I recall correctly, but he still resorts to stone/iron tools and no armor in his day to day.

Kind of related to above, Tommy keeps momentos of people he cares about in his ender chest, where no one can reach them but him. He is terrified of losing these things because they remind him of when times were good, and he had people he loved. (This was actually said by him, I just don't remember the stream sorry ;;w;;)

Tommy is very stubborn. He doesn't cooperate very often and views the way he does things as the best way. The only time to my memory that he defaulted to someone else was when Wilbur was alive (L'manburg, Pogtopia)

Tommy likes maintaining his surroundings. This includes harvesting crops and replacing them, patching up creeper holes, and replacing missing blocks from his house or the Prime Path. He does these things without anyone telling him to, on his "down time" if you will, and doesn't really call attention to it

TOMMY LOVES ANIMALS. He doesn't like killing them and tries to eat carrots instead of killing for meat (although he doesn't seem to have qualms with eating meat that other people give him)

Tommy has a soft spot for kids/small creatures. He tried very hard to hate Michael because he was bitter about Ranboo and Tubbo's friendship but he broke almost instantly if I remember correctly. He fawns over "cute" things and gets thoroughly distracted from whatever he was doing if he notices a baby chicken or something

Tommy is rarely still. He almost always is doing something with his hands (ie building, chopping trees, etc) if he's in conversation with someone. The only times where he actually sits down and stops is when he's watching the sunset on his bench, or having a self reflection moment/processing heavy information.

I'll stop here, but I plan on making another post that more goes into his speaking mannerisms and whatnot. I hope this helps somebody trying to write C!Tommy, feel free to send me an ask if you have specific questions!!

#meraki post #dream smp #c!tommy #idk how to tag this lol sorry #writing advice #??#i love him a lot i hope this helps someone

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escuellasceramicdollie · 19 days

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THE RICH GET RICHER // FEED THEM TO THE PIGS ( javier escuella x fem reader )

warnings: hatred turned to love, swearing, use of the word 'bimbo' & insults.

the van der linde gang had many firm beliefs about the sickenly wealthy pigs that roamed freely, waving money in front of the poors nose like teasing a malnourished dog with a bone.

belief number one. the rich are nothing but a crued crew of lobotomised chickens that do nothing but carry out the oh so beloved acts of incest. they're all degenerate inbreds according to the gang.

belief number two. the only reason they are allowed to be in arms reach of all them goods, is for people in need to heartlessly rob and put that money to a purpose instead of flashing it into diamonds, lace and frills.

& you best believe infamous outlaw javier escuella most definitely lived by those two ideologies, especially when you the picture perfect prime example of a spoiled snob was stripped of your wealth due to your father's crippling gambling addiction. therefore showing up on the outskirts of horseshoe overlook pleading for a few cents appeared fitting and a well deserved lesson. however, once you were blessed by the sweetheart stare of karen it was clear that you were granted mercy.

upon your arrival , you were severely disliked by the lot ( minus the ladies as they were bewitched by the last classy gown you owned. ) the men however weren't fooled by your senseless gown or breath-taking beauty , some may name you the daughter of aphrodite but some ( in this case: javier ) did not give a rat's ass about your appearance , solely being focused on survival and nothing else. on some occasions he antagonises you by insulting you as a wealth drunk bimbo and other disgustingly creative insults but that was about the plot of it all.

the dawns of your arrival did not withhold a single trace of productivity ; that was until ms grimshaw used her iron fist in the same strategy you treated your helpless servants before your family name went to shit.

although there must have been an error in the system, since how does an obnoxiously ill mannered ' mortified of manual labour ' lassie transform into a deadly callous outlaw? one word : valentine. & that so called bloodbath that occured was the fuse to your spree of unfortunately heinous actions which benefited the gang a wholesome amount. not only that but also persuaded a certain mexican to apologise for his amiss judgement of your character.

"i just wanted to-" javier began speaking, head down glaring at the burnt grass below him whilst the melodies of the crackling fire harmonised their new camp into a safer setting.

"apologise for calling me a wealth drunk bimbo?" you cut his sentence short, assuming his future words like he assumed your entire embodiment of existence from your past .

"well i was gonna say thank you for leading dutch and the others to a safe rescue out of that shit hole . . but i guess i should apologise aswell, for everything." by the end of his sentence , javier knew all he said was a half assed apology ── at this point he should save himself and plunged into a pit of snakes, hopefully dying of the venom rather than his own humiliation.

you glanced at javier's ashamed frame, wondering if he even holds any thought behind his hickory eyes . that was left to be a mystery as he was not even brave enough to look you right in the eye ── ' where the fuck does dutch discover these pussies? ' you wonder.

"charming." was the only word you utter in return for the lame excuse of an apology , remaining untouchable & staring off into the lannahechee river which now engulfed the freshly built camp.

surely javier recieved what he expected. a cold shoulder was what he deserved but for some reason the lack of attention hooked him to you like the chorus of one of his songs . it only lead him to desire to keep singing those melodies and unravel the bridge and verse of your very own ballad.

#credits to v6que for divider #javier escuella #read dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom

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sungbeam · 2 years

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𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

mark lee x gn!reader

0.3k words, fluff asf, sighs romantic mark, he's so cute, not proofread lol

"Hey, the grass is a little wet," Mark Lee said as he crouched down to pet the damp grass lawn overlooking the river. Moonlight reflected off the dark surface like ripples of silver, and you thought of how the ocean might look like diamonds in the sun, but how the river glowed like the stars in the sky at night.

You tapped his shoulder and pointed to a set of benches by the river bank. "That's okay. We can just sit there, right?"

He pouted slightly, his lips pursing cutely. "Hmm, it's not very 'picnicky' then, babe."

"Ah." He must have been set on the midnight picnic thing then. You didn't want to step on his toes though—he'd been eager to take you on a midnight picnic for awhile now, and when Mark Lee was determined, nothing could stop him.

Mark whipped out the picnic blanket from his backpack. It was one of those red and white checkered ones, the stereotypical picnic aesthetic. And then he started tugging out the tealights—

"This is so romantic," you murmured softly with a smile on your face.

He turned to peer up at you with wide eyes and that adorably boyish grin. "Really? I didn't think it'd be a good idea to bring real candles, but I didn't know if you'd think the tea lights would look worse."

You shook your head, kneeling down to set the picnic basket down on the blanket. You pressed your lips to his cheek. "No, it's perfect, Mark."

"Would rose petals make it a little more perfect?" He giggled. The spot where you had kissed him began turning a deep shade of crimson as he ducked his head to dig the supposed petals out from his backpack.

Your lips parted in awe. "Rose petals?"

"Well," he drawled as he fished out a handful of faux rose petals made of thin crepe paper from the bottom of his backpack. "Same thing, right?"

You cupped your hand around the back of his neck and pressed another kiss to his cheek. "God, you're so cute."

Mark's grin widened and he sprinkled the petals over the blanket. "Anything for my baby."

nct m.list ✶ oct. drabbles m.list

permanent taglist: @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @johlee @justanotherkpopstanlol @frickyratz @liamsholygrail @w3bqrl @got-sum-badhabits @ana-is-losing-her-mind @smolpeyy @hibernatinghamster @babyksworld @otchae @bigballsz @luv4vernon @shakalakaboomboo @thesunsfullmoon @polarisjisung @dior-15 @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @neowritingsnet

#nct x reader #mark lee x reader #neowritingsnet #nct dream x reader #mark lee drabbles #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee oneshot #mark lee imagines #nct drabble #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct fluff

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ajlockwood · 1 year

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I love how stroud created a sort of tied ending for the books and symbolised the development of lockwood and lucy’s relationship through necklaces. each one of them is a physical representation of the feelings blossoming between them, and since neither of them is emotionally able to put these feelings into words, I wrote a very tiresome 1700-word essay about that

[WARNING: major spoilers for all five books + the netflix show]

the first necklace is annie ward’s, in the screaming staircase. it’s a locket, a materialisation of a tumultuous love between two people, a toxic passion that leads to tragedy. extreme jealousy led to the loved one’s death. this necklace is a kind of presage of what’s to come in the next books, because from the moment lucy meets annie, she feels a sort of connection to her – that beautiful metaphorical image of lucy and annie underwater in the show speaks for itself – and this will also be reflected on her own romantic story.

this quote was a foreshadowing all along, but we only realise that much further. stroud suggested the importance of the necklaces given as gifts throughout the story – and their romantic meaning that should not be overlooked. (plus keep in mind george’s implication that lucy doesn’t know anything about love. it’s important, I promise).

[in the netflix show, this connection between annie’s relationship with fairfax and lucy’s with lockwood is foreseen when lucy relives annie’s last moments. she begins to caress a conflicted lockwood as if he were her lover, and this moment made it even clearer that even though both relationships were very different, they are correspondent. plus, the locket was replaced by a ring, and they also added a ring on lockwood’s finger. coincidence? I think not. but keep reading, I’ll elaborate on that later.]

the second necklace is a gift from lockwood to lucy in the whispering skull, and is the first one directly connected to their relationship. this necklace is made of silver, meaning purity, healing, patience, perseverance, balance, peace. the diamond too is a symbol of purity, commitment and faithfulness. in short, this is the first material implication that a healthy and easy affection is growing between them. even if it’s for the sake of a case, they’re going to a party, and all is well.

however, here I remind of george’s quote about lucy not knowing anything about love – though I wouldn’t say she’s ignorant, but more like unaware of it. lockwood is also unaware of it. the whole point of locklyle being so good is that they’re unaware of their affection’s depth for 70% of the story even though it’s so OBVIOUS. they’re young, and they work too much – lockwood’s life had been his job until then –, so much that what could have been a lovely moment with his gift is quickly dismissed in the book because they have a mission. so they don’t really have the time and mental health to dwell on it. we don’t have lockwood’s pov in the books (shoutout to mr stroud), and lucy knows she feels something for lockwood but denies it – though later we find that she preferred to keep wearing the necklace full-time.

[the show also made a really important addition by showing lockwood entering jessica’s room to fetch the necklace, an indication that his love for lucy is making him have to face his trauma. and the moment when he gives lucy the necklace was much more meaningful: it was right after lucy had told him for the first time about norrie. he wanted to tell her about jessica as well, but he hesitates – he says, “it belonged to… someone I was very close to.” he wants to open up to her, although he’s still not ready to do so. jessica’s door being opened by the end of the book/season is obviously a metaphor for the door to his inner self, and just when he is ready to at least try leaving a crack for lucy to enter, stroud wrote the next book.]

the hollow boy is where everything begins to falter. lucy still wears the necklace – as skull points out right at the beginning – and she even uses it to save them during a mission, but it’s the last time we see it. in fact, the very last time it’s mentioned is a scene where lucy is watching lockwood fondly; she touches her necklace out of reflex, and then he makes the decision that (as he will think later) ruined it all: to hire a new agent.

holly’s arrival is conflictuous for various reasons, notably MISCOMMUNICATION and JEALOUSY. remember what I said about annie’s necklace being a presage? yes, the prophecy is fulfilled! these two aspects almost led to lockwood and lucy’s ruin. however, in the end it wasn’t jealously that made them part, but very ironically it was their love. the “come off it, lucy, you know I’d die for you” was one more of lockwood’s not-so-subtle occasional demonstrations of how much he cared about her, but given the context, lucy was scared. because for the first time she realised lockwood really was committed to her, in his own way. the silver necklace was forgotten: their affection (which had been easy before) became heavy on lucy’s heart and conscience. she didn’t want his commitment like that. so she left, hoping that it would make it go away – and with that, leaving a hole in lockwood’s heart.

the creeping shadow tells us that their departure made it worse for both. and amusingly, even though this is one of the books with most deepening on locklyle, it’s the only one without a single quote from any necklace. why? because they’re confused. everything to them is nebulous and indistinct regarding the other. for the first time they’re beginning to acknowledge the fact they love each other, as they feel the effects of it directly on their skin, but they simply don’t have a proper conversation so they don’t know what the other is really thinking. lucy missed lockwood and co more than she would care to admit; she wanted to keep in touch with them, even if she was away for a good cause, but lockwood didn't make himself reachable in a way that wouldn't suggest his wish of her backing down from her decision. he fortified his walls again and became obsessed with a plan of getting her back no matter what, and only then he’d think of how he could earn her affection. I like to think that lockwood only realised he truly loved lucy in her absence; I imagine him lying awake at dawn repassing every conversation, every moment (especially the argument at the cafe); wondering when did it all begin to crumble and when was it he got so inattentive to her, sinking into new cases to run away from these feelings and to ironically have an illusion of self-control (add that to his trauma and consequent perspective that everyone he’s ever loved is taken from him). and somehow lucy is even more oblivious than him, so this moment is one of confusion and maybe even self-discovery for them. as a rule I wouldn’t gift someone a piece of jewelry meaning “hey so I’m a mess rn I kinda like u but idk? anyways lol let’s go to work”, therefore the lack of promises or anything like it. but when lucy comes back – and lockwood reaches the goal he had been planning all winter for – they are not the same anymore. their feelings didn’t change: they matured into something they still cannot name, but a lot more tangible than before.

at last comes the empty grave. after everything they’ve been through (see literally going to hell and back), though they haven’t officialy settled what they are to each other now, it’s clear to both of them that they’re not only coworkers, or simply friends. the shared trauma made them even closer than they were before, as lucy states here:

and this same shared trauma made lucy – with her self-consciousness and all that – doubt even more if lockwood truly loved her, or if it was something else. it’s fair; they hadn’t been on good terms for a while, he suddenly appeared on her doorstep again and then they nearly died together, now all of the sudden they couldn’t be apart?

of course their relationship would never be the same again, but all this situation just reinforced whatever affection they already had before. for once, lockwood was finally allowing himself a few moments of vulnerability around lucy (like when he showed her his family’s grave, or in that scene of quiet solace when he allows her to sit beside him in the library and he shares his theory about who killed his parents); but as stroud himself has said, “lockwood is a nightmare”, he never talks openly about his feelings.

so what does he do to declare that his love is true, tangible, eternal and devotional?

he gives her a necklace. again.

but this time, the act carries much more depth than before with the silver necklace, of which we don’t know much about in the books. because while that one was a reminder of someone dear to him, this one has its own story, a story that really touches lockwood inside. it represents his parents’ love, seen by him and his sister as an example since their childhoods. his father gave it to his mother as a symbol of his undying devotion. gold represents happiness, peace, stability – something lockwood and lucy did not have by the time he first tried to give her the necklace, since portland row was about to be attacked (and that’s why they were interrupted by kipps), while the last part of the book (paradoxically called “the beginning”) was the perfect moment to do so. the sapphire summarises everything lockwood wants to say out loud, but never does: it brings serenity and peace of mind, symbolises truth, restoration of balance, celestial hope, holiness and connection to the heavens.

this is lockwood's conception of the apex of love, and he is sharing it with lucy because she is the one that completes him, that makes his days have a meaning, the one with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with. after five books, he is certain she is the one for him – and has always been. even when they didn’t know so.

and even after all this, lockwood doesn’t say it out loud, for fear of being rejected again. this moment is too important for him (he’s even put on his new coat I mean, honestly, just for a stroll?? he wanted to look good for her), and he didn’t want to ruin it. he hesitates, leaves the necklace there for lucy to find. rather than force her hand or try to influence her, as he had done before, he gives her a free choice. she can go for that stroll with him if she wants. she can also not go, if that’s what she wishes. if she wants the necklace, if she accepts him and his love, it will be her choice. he’s practically on his knees, begging her to say yes and accept him; he needs her, but he doesn’t want to impose himself on her: he wants her to choose him voluntarily. the necklace is a silent question. a proposal. and even though it took lucy the whole book, the whole series to realise that this love was real and mutual, she is ready. it’s not with hesitation that she says yes to him twice.

[and remember lockwood’s ring? the books begin and end with a necklace – tied ending! – and my theory is that the show might intend to do so as well. it all started with a ring and it will end with one, but a ring is a lot more clearer to read through the lens of romance. as of now, the show is constantly focusing on subtle hand touches – pride and prejudice fans howling –, which I found a rather suggestive detail, and at some point by the end, he will take it off his finger and put it into hers, an explicit exchange of vows, and my heart that has survived of only crumbs from jonathan until now found this change brilliant.]

so yeah, this is just one of the hundred reasons why I consider locklyle to be one of the deepest relationships ever written. good night, listeners, good night

#locklyle #lockwood and co #only now I realised how much I dissociated while writing this #I love overnalysing #and this is why I need to see all of this unraveling on screen #every single detail is of such importance and they have the capacity to make locklyle’s development *glorious*#when lucy leaves lockwood and co in the hollow boy? it will be double painful to watch #lockwood succeeded the first time he tried to convince her to stay but the second attempt will break him apart #and I think daily about cameron chapman saying he wanted to see lockwood struggling a bit more #and the ring the ring the RING #they are my joker #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #l&co. netflix #l&co spoilers #btw sorry for my english

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 2 months

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Determinism, Dice Rolls, and Dickheads

So, @sextuscansextus posed a great question the other day: "If you were going to pin the BEGINNING of the downfall of the Roman Republic on the actions of one Roman, who are you blaming?" The pedant that lives in my brain immediately started asking more questions. Not to argue, but to explore. To enjoy. To attempt a political autopsy well outside my competence.

This post is my answer: who I blame most, and why.

Had the Die Already Been Cast?

Many folks (including sextuscansextus herself) have pointed out that the end of the republic was a complex process, and blaming it on one "key figure" doesn't really work. Historians don't just talk about the individuals who shaped history, but a web of other factors: geography, economics, religion, overvalued sparkly rocks, etc.

So, how much should we blame people like Sulla or Caesar? And how much should we blame systemic forces that pushed them and other Romans to act as they did?

A pure "systems" approach looks like Jared Diamond's book, Guns, Germs and Steel. It tries to explain why some societies colonized others, using physical geography and agriculture. Individuals could still make choices, but on a large scale, the societies followed the different paths permitted by their material situations.

Or, to more bluntly, Europe was destined to colonize the Americas because cows rule and llamas drool, wheat is better than potatoes, and Europe's coastline looks like it was drawn by a spider on cocaine.

This book is, shall we say, controversial.

Apart from issues with methodology, accuracy, and possible racism, the book invokes historical determinism. Determinism is the idea that events are inevitable: your behavior is determined by the state of your brain, your brain's state is determined by your genetics and environment, and every person is equally ruled by those factors. Free will is as nonexistent as Mark Antony's underwear.

Determinism Lite™️ might allow for individual free will, but still frames big shifts like the fall of the Roman republic as inevitable. Or, you might say it became inevitable after a certain event set it on the course to destruction. I think this is what sextuscansextus' question is really getting at. The point in Roman history when you say, "This is where it went wrong," influences who you think doomed the republic, and how you judge the leaders who followed.

But was it doomed? Did a civil war have to happen sooner or later? If an eagle had dropped a turtle on Julius Caesar's bald spot, would somebody else march on Rome instead?

Erich Gruen and Robert Morstein-Marx have other ideas.

Lucky Bastards and the Doomsday Clock

In The Last Generation of the Roman Republic, Erich Gruen asks: What was happening in Roman politics between 80 and 49 BCE? What changed, and what stayed the same? He catalogues every election, trial, law passed or blocked, military mutiny, incestuous clusterfuck - the detail is both impressive and mind-numbing. Then he compares it all to previous decades, and concludes...that in 50 BCE, the republic was not falling apart.

"But how can that be?" you may ask. "Look at everything that went wrong! Even the Senate house burned down!"

Gruen isn't saying there weren't crises during this time. What he's saying is that they don't reflect a fundamental decay in republican institutions, or mean the republic couldn't put itself back together. For instance, the burning of the Senate was followed by troops being called in to restore order and hold a trial for Clodius' murder, and Rome was then at peace for three years until Caesar invaded - for completely unrelated reasons. The two conflicts are not actually linked. And positive developments occurred in between them, but are usually overlooked by historians trying to explain why things went wrong.

Gruen's argument is multi-layered, and I can't summarize it all here. But he concludes that the Roman republic could have potentially survived much longer, if not for the personal, not systemic, conflict between Caesar and Pompey in 50 BCE. If he's right, then we can't say any of Caesar or Pompey's predecessors "doomed" the republic.

Robert Morstein-Marx takes Gruen's argument further. In Julius Caesar and the Roman People, he explores the lead-up to Caesar's civil war, and finds miscommunication, politicians waffling back and forth, and several times war was almost averted. Even after Caesar crossed the Rubicon, he and Pompey nearly reached a peace deal. And several times Caesar was almost killed in battle, only escaping through pure luck.

Neither the civil war nor Caesar's dictatorship were inevitable. So besides "important people" and "systemic factors," Morstein-Marx names another force of history: sheer, bloody chance.

Not all historians agree with Gruen and Morstein-Marx. But let's suppose that at some point, the republic was in danger, yet there was a chance of restoring it to its prior health and stability. Whether you think there was a 90% or 5% chance of saving the republic in 52 BCE, try thinking in terms of probabilities, not a path of cause and effect.

Let's call this the "probability model." There are people and events who raise or lower the republic's stability, going all the way back to its founding, when Lucius Brutus' sons tried to overthrow it. It's like the Doomsday Clock, which doesn't measure how long humans have before destruction, but our risk of things blowing up in our face. The Doomsday Clock can go forward (riskier) or backward (safer), just like the Roman republic could start stabilizing in 52-50 BCE before a civil war destabilized it again.

In this model, we can't really say there is a "beginning of the end," or one person who started it. There was a series of events during which the republic collapsed, but they didn't necessarily cause each other, or all stem from a single source. You might as well ask which raindrop flooded your house.

But don't worry. We can still throw rocks at a guy who's been dead for 2000 years. We just have to rephrase the question a little.

What Was the Biggest Hit?

We can't say one man caused the republic to irreversibly decay, but we can say some men struck bigger blows than others, or struck it at a worse time.

Personally, I really like Gruen and Morstein-Marx's analyses. I agree with Gruen that the republic had reasonable prospects to survive in 51 BCE, and with Morstein-Marx's argument that Caesar and Pompey could have resolved their differences peacefully. But I think the republic's chances dropped dramatically after Caesar invaded Italy and Pompey fled to Greece - perhaps from 80% to 30%, if you'll forgive me for pulling numbers out of my ass. And the odds got worse as the conflict went on.

For the next 20 years, Rome was in a nearly constant state of civil war, autocracy, or both. It's hard to overstate how damaging both of those were to every level of society. Men like Augustus grew up without having ever seen a healthy republic, and many of the men that knew how to run one were killed. Public offices went unfilled, infrastructure decayed, mouths went unfed. Even if preserving the republic wasn't impossible yet, it became far, far more difficult. So if we're gonna point fingers, I think we should be looking at 50-49 BCE.

A lot of politicians fucked up at that point. You can argue that Curio drove a wedge between Caesar and Pompey, that Cato shut down the peace negotiations, that Marcellus declared war first, that Caesar started the war for real, and that Pompey tried to play both sides and it blew up in his face. It's possible that if any of these men had acted differently, no war would have happened. But if I had to pick one man to blame the most...

The Motive Matters, Too

Let's go back to that point about systems versus individual agency. How far were these politicians' choices constrained by their culture and environment? It doesn't change how badly they fucked up, but when it comes to blame, I'm harsher on people who choose evil of their own free will, rather than because they feel pressured into it.

In De Bello Civili, Caesar tells us why he defied the Senate for a year and invaded his own country. He tells us he wanted to protect the tribunes' rights, but the tribunes only came to him days before he crossed the Rubicon, so it doesn't explain why he let the situation get so dire in the first place. For that, we must look at his other stated reason: dignitas.

He wasn't afraid of a trial, assassination, or the anger of his soldiers. He did it for his pride, public image, honor, whatever you want to call it. And he put that pride before the lives of his countrymen and the safety of his country.

Now, the ancient Romans might have thought dignitas was a better reason than we do, but we can't blame Caesar's actions on Roman culture, either. 140 years earlier, Rome had had another great general. His name was Scipio Africanus. His career shares many similarities with Caesar's, and he was likely one of Caesar's heroes. But Scipio never turned his power against his country. He actually turned down being dictator and perpetual consul, and when his enemies politically cornered him, he accepted exile rather than forcing an ugly, drawn-out fight. Despite that embarrassment, he remained a legend through Caesar's time and to this day.

Or perhaps you want an example closer to Caesar's era and situation. We have one: Lucullus, whom Caesar actually served under at Mytilene. 16 years before Caesar crossed the Rubicon, Lucullus was spurned for a triumph for his campaigns. He waited three years, living outside Rome all that time, before he finally got one. But during that time he demobilized his army and respected the Senate's laws, no matter how petty and personally motivated they were against him. He did not use the military as a threat.

When push came to shove, Scipio and Lucullus put the good of the republic before their own careers. Caesar did not. He chose to defy the Senate and take up arms against his countrymen, knowing full well he had other options available.

I blame Caesar not only for the size of the blow he inflicted on the republic, but also because the blow was so preventable, if only he had been a better man.

#holy shit this got long #it was super fun to write though!#gods i love talking about this stuff #jlrrt essays #historiography #roman politics #julius caesar #caesar's civil war #scipio africanus #robert morstein-marx #erich gruen #guns germs and steel #jared diamond #julius caesar and the roman people #the last generation of the roman republic #lucius licinius lucullus

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oflights · 11 months

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oh this is so exciting! happy pride! You've reblogged a number of pretty bejeweled things today, and I wonder if they could be a prompt, perhaps as a gift, or an item in need of cursebreaking? no stress at all if this doesn't spark the muse!

hi!! thank you for this prompt, i kind of loved it. i chose to use this as a reference point and honestly had a lot of fun with it!

as i said yesterday, this wound up being thematically appropriate for a certain blond someone's birthday, which is why it's posting now!! i'm still working on other prompts, and feel free to keep sending some if you'd like!

this is about ~1100 words (sooo close to under 1k 😭) and features curse-breaking partners harry and draco, very jealous harry, and cheesy gemstone/eye comparisons. 💎🎈

“He bought them at auction,” Draco says in a hushed sort of voice, beaming down at the dangly gold earrings Harry is frantically casting on. “I can’t even imagine the price—not that that matters, of course, it would be thoughtful either way, but look—those are genuine pearls, Harry. Byzantine! Sixth century!”

“Sure,” Harry says through gritted teeth, not pausing in his casting. His hand is starting to cramp a little, so he drops his wand and takes a breath to gather his magic up in his spread fingers, ignoring Draco rolling his eyes and muttering something about showoffs. “Too bad they’re cursed.”

“They’re not cursed!”

“They’re definitely cursed,” Harry says, flexing his fingers over the earrings nestled in their ornate wooden box. He could cast the magic he’s working over them in his sleep—the perks of being a rather competent Curse-Breaker—and it’s no trouble at all to cast a few more times, just to be sure. More than sure. He’s absolutely certain that there’s something magically wrong with these earrings, and he’ll prove it. “And they’re ugly, beside.”

“They’re not—you have no taste.”

“They wouldn’t suit you at all, either; you’ve only got the one ear pierced,” Harry says, glancing up at the tiny diamond cuff glinting over Draco’s cartilage and the even tinier moonstone stud in his lobe, easily overlooked unless you make a habit of looking. Harry thinks he could point them out in the dark, blindfolded and spun around, but that’s not anyone’s business but his own. “Are you sure they were for you?”

“Of course they’re for me,” Draco huffs, shaking his head. “The box had my name on it, and Edmund left a note that he’d been called away but he wanted to make sure I got my present on my actual birthday instead of waiting for the party on Saturday—” The party that Harry had planned with absolutely minimal help from Edmund, who he thinks has a low chance of actually showing up, the bastard. “And, as I already told you, there are pearls.”

Harry just glares down at the stupid earrings, shaking his head.

Draco sighs. “Pearls are my birthstone.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was born in June, you nitwit.”

“They don’t even look like pearls,” Harry says, trying not to swear out loud. He’d gotten Draco a moonstone and diamond cuff so he could switch out his piercings. He’d never even considered birthstones, only that little stud that always catches his eye, and the shimmery moonstones on Draco’s watch; he’d learned about adularescence and thought about what light looked like reflected in Draco’s eyes.

At least, Harry knows, his gift is actually wearable. He can’t imagine Draco in these earrings, dangling there as he chats away with their clients and tosses his head back in laughter at Harry’s scant, interjected jokes. They’d agreed early on in their Curse-Breaking partnership that Draco was more of the natural at client relations, but Harry never feels as good as he does when he can join in and make Draco laugh. And the client, of course. That’s fine too.

He wonders if Edmund ever makes Draco laugh like that, when he’s not Portkeying off to another auction, standing Draco up for dinner with his parents, or gifting him absurd, assuredly cursed earrings. Certainly not, Harry thinks.

“I assure you that there are pearls,” Draco says, reaching out for the box. Harry smacks his hands down over it, shaking his head.

“No way, you know the rules. No touching, not until I’m sure there are no curses,” Harry says. “And I’m sure there are, so—”

“That rule is for both of us,” Draco says, swatting at Harry’s hands, laughing a little as Harry swats him back, their hands fluttering against each other over the top of box.

Harry traps both of Draco’s hands in his for a moment, grinning triumphantly, then yelps as Draco grips his hands back and slams them down on the box.

“You can’t keep me away from my birthday present,” Draco says firmly.

Before Harry can argue—before he can say he’s just protecting Draco, he’s just showing him who Edmund really is, and he could show him so much more, he could prove that Edmund is a dunce who has no idea what he has in Draco, who takes him for granted and thinks Draco would wear yellow gold and pearls and garnets and dangly, ugly, obnoxious, definitely cursed earrings in a pair when he only has one ear pierced—before any of that can come out, the door to their office bursts open to reveal a panting, red-faced Edmund, practically doubled over.

“Edmund?” Draco says, standing up from where he’s been perched on Harry’s desk and whipping his hands back.

Edmund wheezes at him, slowly straightening, his eyes widening as he holds up a very similarly-shaped wrapped box in one hand. “Wrong—present—”

“What?” Draco squawks as Harry grins broadly, triumphant.

“Don’t—open—oh—” Edmund continues, eyes going impossibly wider as he stares at the box still under Harry’s hands. “Don’t—touch—”

It’s Harry’s turn to squawk, “What?!” and whip his hands away, just as Edmund chokes out, “Cursed.”

Harry’s grin drops, staring down at the box—which is now devoid of earrings. He realizes this at the same time that Draco does, at the same time he feels a suddenly pinch in his left earlobe, jumping in his seat and yelping, “Ouch!” at the same time Draco’s hands fly up to his own ear.

He feels a weight near his cheek and gapes, wide-eyed, as he sees one of the earrings is now in Draco’s unpierced left earlobe. The other, he realizes as he cups his hand over the side of his face, is in his ear.

Harry and Draco stare at each, something charged and heated building up in the air between them, tingling where the earring is and spreading out to the tips of Harry’s fingers.

“Right,” Draco says as the moment builds, his eyes never leaving Harry’s—wide, bright, beaming with something that would be adularescence if his eyes were the moonstones they resemble. “What kind of curse, exactly?”

The earrings jingle, the magic tingles, and suddenly Draco drops into Harry’s lap, Harry’s arms going around him with little choice, their breaths quickening and a flush spreading across both their faces, as Draco’s horrible boyfriend watches.

“Erm,” Edmund says. “Right. That is to say, ah—well, you see, it might not be a curse so much as a—a bond, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Draco says, pants out really, staring down at Harry, who stares back, until they can’t stare any longer because they’re kissing instead.

#drarry #drarry fic #oflights #the-starryknight #asks #fic prompts #my fic #harry's chest monster is draco's real birthday present tbh

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blueiskewl · 3 months

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2,000-Year-Old Roman Villa Discovered in Naples

A three-year project to build a children’s playground and recreation area south of the Italian city of Naples has unearthed the ruins of a 2,000-year-old clifftop beach house.

Built in the first century, the panoramic mansion — which overlooks the islands of Ischia and Procida — is now partly flooded by the sea. Experts believe it could have once been the opulent residence of Pliny the Elder, the legendary author, naturalist, and commander of the Roman navy fleet stationed there.

The discovery, made last week in the coastal town of Bacoli, unearthed the thick perimeter stone walls of 10 large rooms with floors, tiled walls and a maze of intact panoramic outdoor terraces.

Back in the first century, the mansion would have been located within the Roman port at Misenum, where for four centuries a fleet of 70 ships controlled the Tyrrhenian Sea, the security of which was key to holding the western flank of the Roman empire.

“It is likely that the majestic villa had a 360-degree view of the gulf of Naples for strategic military purposes,” Simona Formola, lead archaeologist at Naples’ art heritage, said in an interview. “We think (the excavation of) deeper layers could reveal more rooms and even frescoes — potentially also precious findings.”

Authorities were surprised by the elaborate style of the walls, which were constructed with diamond-shaped tufa (limestone) blocks placed in a net-like ornamental pattern about 70 centimeters (27.5 inches) below ground.

The villa runs down to a little crumbling stone dock now located about four meters below sea level. That this — and other parts of the unearthed villa — are now underwater is due to the phenomenon of “negative bradyseism,” a term used to describe the gradual descent of the earth’s surface into the sea in areas exposed to frequent volcanic activity. (The area borders a moon-shaped “caldera” or extinct volcanic crater).

Digs will continue in coming months, with authorities hoping to shed further light on not only the form of the beach villa itself, but the broader life and structure of Misenum, one of the most important colonies in the Roman Empire.

“The discovery is even more exceptional given that we know very little (about) the port of Misenum,” said Formola.

As well as acting as a lookout point, Pliny’s beach villa would have also likely been used for leisure. The private dock was where he would greet high-ranking guests arriving by sea for lavish parties. Many Ancient Romans used to flock to Bacoli and the surrounding area, to enjoy their vacation homes and the region’s thermal baths and spa retreats.

Bacoli is located within the so-called “Phlegraean Fields” (or “Fire Plains”), which are dotted with natural geysers and tiny active craters where there are still frequent earthquakes. Due to its blazes and sulphureous vapors, the ancients believed it to be the entrance to the underworld and had dubbed it “the Mouth of Hell.” Indeed it’s possible that Pliny the Elder would have witnessed the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79 from the villa. It is known he died trying to rescue those fleeing the calamity.

While archaeologists were reportedly surprised by the finding, local lore had long speculated on the existence of an underground treasure in this location. On the beach neighboring the newly-discovered villa walls, a large brick ruin had been dubbed the “talking wall” by local residents as, in their view, it proved the one-time existence of a large residence.

The site will now become an open-air museum, set to open in the coming weeks. “The ruins of the Roman villa will be cleaned and cordoned-off with wooden fences,” said Bacoli’s mayor Josi Gerardo Della Ragione. “They will be the core of this beautiful space which… our citizens and visitors will get to admire.”

By Silvia Marchetti.

#2000-Year-Old Roman Villa Discovered in Naples #Roman port at Misenum #Pliny the Elder #Emperor Vespasian #Mount Vesuvius #ancient ruins #ancient city #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire

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thorsenmark · 1 year

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flickr

In Striving for More, One Can’t Put Others Down (New River Gorge National Park & Preserve) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: In Striving for More, One Can’t Put Others Down It’s your race to strive, struggle and win The blessings of this life are yours; do not settle for less! They are a gift from above and for others around Be sure to share as you bring it to life After all, we’re all on this same planet together! Another work of short poetry or prose to complement the image captured one morning while walking the Endless Wall Trail in New River Gorge National Park & Preserve. This setting is looking to the northeast from Diamond Point Overlook. With this image, I focused on the look across that ‘endless wall,’ capturing some of the cliff face present along with the forest of trees that seemingly went on to a distant horizon. By metering for the slightly brighter areas in the tree leaves, I felt I was able to capture enough of the highlights, while later being able to pull out the more shadowed areas without a color cast. I did some initial post-processing work making adjustments to contrast, brightness and saturation while playing around as I learned how to work with DxO PhotoLab 4. I then exported a TIFF image to Nik Color Efex Pro 4 where I added a Polarization, Foliage and Skylight filter for that last effect on the image captured.

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hchollym · 9 months

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I have a question about Fleur. You and a lot of other people act like she is this unfairly victimized character, but if I remember correctly, wasn't she really rude in canon?

It seems like you're genuinely asking and not just bashing the character, so I'll give you an honest answer.

I feel like Fleur tends to be treated by her stans in a similar way that Percy is (see this post). She's an interesting character because she is flawed, but then antis will go so far overboard with criticism that it causes a knee-jerk reaction to just say, "You know what? Forget it. She's perfect."

She has a lot of great qualities that are often overlooked. She is brave, fiercely loyal to the people she loves, and willing to forgive others (such as Molly & Ginny).

She's also more relatable than people tend to realize. Yes, she's this gorgeous part veela character, but some of her experiences are pretty consistent with any other person on the planet.

For example, look at this scene from Book 4 after the Second Task:

“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.” Applause from the stands. “I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

Most of us have felt self-critical and disappointed in ourselves at one point or another.

In that same book, it's clear that Fleur has a crush on Cedric & is constantly trying to flirt with him, yet when she asks him to the Yule Ball, he turns her down to go with Cho instead.

Again, most of us know what rejection feels like, so we can see ourselves in that situation.

Is Fleur flawed as well? Of course. Everyone is.

She can definitely be arrogant and rude:

“She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn’t even answer..."

Meanwhile Fleur Delacour was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies. “Zis is nothing,” she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we ’ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course . . . zey are like ’uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we ’ave choirs of wood nymphs, ’oo serenade us as we eat. We ’ave none of zis ugly armor in ze ’alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, ’e would be expelled like zat.” She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

'No, no, silly boy,’ said Fleur with a tinkling laugh, ‘I mean next summer, when we – but do you not know?’ Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at Mrs Weasley, who said, ‘We hadn’t got around to telling him yet.’ Fleur turned back to Harry, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it whipped Mrs Weasley across the face. ‘Bill and I are going to be married!’

‘She ’as let ’erself go, zat Tonks,’ mused Fleur, examining her own stunning reflection in the back of a teaspoon. ‘A big mistake, if you ask –’

Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs Weasley joined in with enthusiastically. ‘Eez eet over?’ said Fleur loudly. ‘Thank goodness, what an ’orrible –’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ said Ron. ‘Gravy, Fleur?’ In his eagerness to help her, he knocked the gravy boat flying; Bill waved his wand and the gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly to the boat. ‘You are as bad as zat Tonks,’ said Fleur to Ron, when she had finished kissing Bill in thanks. ‘She is always knocking –’

So clearly, Fleur is not perfect, but one of the major problems is that JKR seems to constantly exaggerate secondary female character's flaws (like Fleur, Lavender, Parvati, etc.) to fit in with the negative stereotype of feminine women.

Plus, it's very frustrating that Fleur is the only female competitor in the Triwizard Tournament, and yet she consistently does worse than her male counterparts on each task. That's misogyny and absolute BS on JKR's part.

So to summarize, Fleur fans do tend to be very protective of her (to the point of erasing her flaws), but it's a direct result/backlash of fandom's/society's opinion on the worth of feminine women.

Thanks for the ask! 😊

#ask me #anon ask #fleur delacour #hp #anti jkr #anti fandumb #my thoughts #my opinion

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idkaguyorsomething · 4 months

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This might sound odd but while Jodio get's a lot of deserved flak why do a lot of Jojo fans seem to overlook Dragonna's sketchy deeds, such as helping his brother commit crimes?

jodio and dragona have a very understandable dynamic from what we’ve been shown so far. they’re both relatively chill people in a normal day-to-day-listening-to-dua-lipa situation and siblings, with dragona as the older sibling taking on a more responsible leadership position while jodio as the younger brother being more impulsive and somewhat… well, naive would be a harsh word, but he has a lot of trouble with the consequences of his actions and he actually fell for the “cops have to tell you if they’re working undercover” trick. it’s a classic dynamic that works well in a lot of stories because the characters balance each other out this way.

but dragona does do a lot of crime shit. arguably, as the older sibling, they’re even more guilty than jodio since eldest children are expected to know what they’re doing and set a good example for the rest of their family, and in the most recent chapter, we see them completely misread a situation in a way that causes them to fall victim to the enemy stand user’s trap. they’re not as different as some people might think.

imho, there’s two main culprits at play here:

number one is the fact that we haven’t gotten a lot of dragona themself’s perspective on their motivations. we’ve seen them in business mode, working through problems and trying to corral paco and usagi, but it hasn’t been revealed to us why exactly they got into organized crime and how they feel about this lifestyle. the first thing that jodio does is let us know that he’s in it for the money and has very few problems with any of this as long as he doesn’t get caught and nobody he cares about gets hurt. additionally, we’ve been shown parts of his day where he sells drugs to his classmates and has to dodge the police. none of what dragona usually does when they’re not on diamond heists has really been shown, so when they’re not really seen committing crimes outside of a group, i think it can be easy for people to forget that they do that by themself as well as when others are watching.

number two is fandom. jodio and dragona have a relationship where you can draw a lot of parallels between giorno and bruno, and the fandom seems to have gone in a similar direction with them. there’s a lot of archetypes that fans tend to pigeonhole characters into even when it does a disservice to the many complexities they may have in their writing (not saying that all fans do this, but it is a pattern that repeats itself enough to be worth examining) such as the disaster gremlin, the team mom, the uwu soft baby, etc. bruno’s fan characterization ended up getting shoved into the team mom archetype pretty hard, and i think we’re seeing something similar play out with dragona. they’re both the de facto leaders of their team with somewhat tough but fair attitudes who really care about their team members, so having them take on a somewhat parental role is far from unreasonable, exaggerating that role for comedy is good humor, and running with it until you get a soccer mom who packed snacks for the local organized crime members is pretty much an unavoidable side effect at this point.

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojolands #the jojolands #jojo part 9 #jodio joestar #dragona joestar

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whinlatter · 6 months

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trick or treat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ginny and the hummingbird: a meta

“Oh, look!” said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar. Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

have wanted to write something about this moment with ginny in the department of mysteries for bloody ages so decided this trick or treat challenge was as good an excuse as any. the meta below explores the symbolism and significance of the bird in the bell jar in the series, and what it means for ginny and harry as characters. thank you for this @evesaintyves! 🐦

TW for brief discussions of mental health and suicidal ideation

‘He knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry’s eyes became more accustomed to the brilliant glare he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room… He led the way forward down the narrow space between the lines of the desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind…

this tiny moment of ginny captivated by the plight of a hummingbird trapped in the bell jar in the room of time in the department of mysteries in OotP is one of my favourite scenes in the whole bloody series. it’s such a tiny, overlooked moment that raises a whole host of interesting world-building questions and potential character insights at a pivotal point in both harry and ginny’s character development. if we understand the different rooms of the department of mysteries as dedicated to those aspects of existence that are most mysterious and perhaps least explicable by magic (love, death, time…), it’s clear we’re supposed to think about the contents of the jar as a question. the symbolism of the jar, the current of the wind, the hummingbird doomed to forever hatch but never to fly free, and especially the significance of having ginny be the character most entranced by it… it’s my lifelong hyperfixation, it’s the reason why all the chapter titles in beasts are bird-themed, it’s the reason i can’t sleep at night, it’s… the ginny and the hummingbird scene. so let’s ramble about it!

what is the significance of the hummingbird in the bell jar?

i’ve broken this down into the following elements: the jar itself, the hummingbird, the progress of the bird, and the wind.

the jar itself: the enormous crystal jar of course suggests confinement of an object or creature for display and examination. the presence of a seemingly live bird existing within it is really evocative, too, because animals placed for display in bell jars are usually dead - it certainly makes me think of age of discovery taxidermy and famous museum collections of natural scientific material held here in the uk (often retrieved during colonial voyages and conquests). obviously, this is the department of mysteries, where wizards undertake research into mysterious magical queries, so the jar serves as an example of something that’s being studied and examined by department staff. but invoking the bell jar as an image, especially in a book that explores trauma and mental distress more than any book in the series, does inevitably bring to mind one of the most memorable images in twentieth century literature: the bell jar of sylvia plath. plath’s bell jar is a metaphor for the experience of being inside a person’s own tormented mind, within one’s own madness, a feeling of being isolated and trapped with nothing but thoughts of mental distress and of death. the text says the jar is ‘quite as tall as [Harry] was’, drawing the jar and harry’s own body together in a brief parallel in the reader’s mind. of course, that plath’s bell jar is such a specifically gendered construction that serves to illustrate the experience of female madness is also interesting to think about here, because it’s specifically ginny who is most drawn to the jar. OotP is the first book in the series that has ginny very briefly reveal her own private, lingering battle with her difficult traumatic memories and experience of extreme mental distress, alienation and torment. that it’s ginny who is transfixed by the bell jar i do not think is incidental. when the death eater later trips and falls into the jar, we discover that the jar is not made of crystal at all, but instead something magical, because the death eater’s head goes right through it without injury (more on what happens to him in the next bit). so the bell jar seems to give the illusion of a cage. that it’s the death eater’s head that penetrates its surface only futher reinforces these associations of the bell jar as some kind of equivalent of the human mind.

the hummingbird: why a hummingbird! hummingbirds aren’t native to the UK, so having this bird under examination be a colourful, prominent beaked hummingbird adds to this sense of the ‘exotic’ (and of colonial discovery). the hummingbird itself has all these lovely sensory associations with colour and beauty, the humming sound of its wings in flight (suggesting a delicate nimble strength), and with flavour and the extraction of sweetness through its lovely long beak. the hummingbird represents a positive image of an endearing creature in pursuit, a stand-in for personhood, of a sympathetic living creature attempting to make its journey. because i am horrendous, i have spent too many afternoons rummaging around for the hummingbird in literature to try and think more about what the hummingbird is doing here. plath herself actually draws on the image of the hummingbird in her poem miss drake proceeds to supper, where she uses them to conjure up ideas of life’s fragility, describing a woman on a hospital ward, walking barefoot towards a dinner table ‘among her secret combinations of eggshells/and breakable hummingbirds’.

the most notable usage of the hummingbird as a motif in literature is by emily dickinson, where it features repeatedly in her poetry and correspondence. in ‘a route of evanescence’, dickinson describes the flight of the hummingbird - in transit and constant motion,an exoticised, sensory feast:

A Route of Evanescence, With a revolving Wheel - A Resonance of Emerald A Rush of Cochineal - And every Blossom on the Bush Adjusts it’s tumbled Head - The Mail from Tunis – probably, An easy Morning’s Ride –

the photograph above is taken from annie leibovitz’s 2011 collection of photographs called pilgrimages, which explores, among other things, the influence of emily dickinson on leibovitz’s work. (i’ve never really thought much about annie leibovitz, but this short blog on leibovitz’s photographs of hummingbirds in relation to dickinson is v interesting). dickinson is, of course, known for poems that engage explicitly in themes of death and natural, animalistic imagery (in the interest of the author being intensely problematic, condemnable and eyewateringly annoying but not dead, it’s worth noting that jkr is almost certainly aware of dickinson’s work, and i do wonder if this is a deliberate invocation. but we move)

the progress of the hummingbird: the endless birth and rebirth of the hummingbird, surrounded by a room of clocks and time-turners, is clearly supposed to invoke ideas about the passage of time and growth. the death eater whose head ends up in the jar ages backwards, his head becoming that of his own head as a baby (cue that great moment where harry goes to attack him and hermione goes ‘you can’t kill a baby!’ - she now views the death eater as an innocent). the hummingbird is born over and over again, rises on the current of the wind in the jar, but never succeeds in its flight. it’s not clear whether the hummingbird intends to escape from the jar, but it certainly can’t continue its progress in its life - it never makes it far down the life course, instead being returned, over and over, to the egg which bore it.

the wind: the wind keeps blowing continuously - it is otherworldly, wind made up of glittering light. the wind is probably the most elusive aspect of the jar. is the wind supposed to represent time? is the wind something else - a different guiding hand, an external force over which the bird has no control and which determines the course of the bird’s life without any hope of intervention or redirection? it’s striking that the hummingbird keeps trying, over and over again, to make some kind of progress, before being returned to the confines of the egg. is this a moral point, about the constant pursuit of something - something sweet; in the canon of liberalism, of ‘the good life’, as a moral condition as well as a symbol of prosperity’ - against the wind’s wishes that try to blow it off course? maybe - but the wind seems to guide the hummingbird throughout - both in its birth, but also in its return, like the bird is at the mercy of the wind throughout.is the wind a stand in for some kind of omniscient god or external universal force, then? this is the bit i’m least satisfied thinking about, but which i will continue to ponder on my walks/in the bath/for hours as i try to sleep xoxo

…“Keep going!” said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg’s progress back into a bird. “You dawdled enough by that old arch!” she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.’

then there’s the why ginny question that i’m still very much stuck on. the bird could be seen as a stand in for something that unites the young characters of the series, a coming-of-age, a progress through time from childhood through to adulthood throughout the duration of the series (given the fruitlessness of the hummingbird’s plight, that’s certainly an interesting idea). ginny is not alone in being interested in what the characters find in the department: she, like many of the others, is intrigued and curious about many aspects of the department’s work, including the veil (“On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny’s arm, Ron Neville’s, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door…”) but while the narration notes that harry, luna, neville and ginny are all drawn to the veil, the great symbol of death and barriers between the mortal world and the beyond, it’s so striking that only ginny seems entirely captivated by the hummingbird’s plight. what about ginny as a character suggests a singular interest in the progress of the hummingbird? does ginny - girl in flight - see herself in the hummingbird? is this one of the examples of foreshadowing ginny’s association with life, birth and family – maybe, but that’s kind of an unsatisfying answer, given the hummingbird seems to symbolise much more than that (and isn’t a linear illustration of birth, growth, life, and death). i did think that the hummingbird sort of mimics the life of fawkes the phoenix - reborn from the ashes, over and over again - with the phoenix obviously having a role in ginny’s rescue from the chamber. but i’m not happy with that either - fawkes is not that significant to ginny at any other point in the series (other than fawkes’ cry during dumbledore’s death, the night harry sets in motion his decision to accept the role of the chosen one and sever ties with ginny: ‘And so he steeled himself to say what he had known he must say ever since Dumbledore had died…’, HBP)

lastly – what to make of this conflict between harry and ginny? harry, impatient to get to sirius, orders ginny away from the jar she is so entranced by; ginny calls him out on his hypocrisy, reminding him that he also slowed down to observe and ponder the veil. obviously it continues this theme of antagonism between the two of them that runs throughout ootp: they argue constantly in this book in very delicious ways, and ginny calls harry out on his hypocrisy two other times including this one (‘lucky you’ and ‘you’re too young’). while the narration does note how interested in the veil ginny is, it’s clear that harry is much less interested in the jar and the hummingbird than ginny, who is singularly captivated by it. so if harry is most interested in the veil, and the mystery of death, what does it mean that what most interests ginny is the mystery of time? i don’t know! and i would love to know other people’s thoughts, because i cannot make head nor tail of it. what do you reckon, folks?

#ginny weasley #meta #ginny and the hummingbird in the jar is my hyperfixation #hinny #beasts #poetry

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escapewithbts · 1 year

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‘the reunion’ (chapter one) jeon jungkook x reader

hello, I’m back! I randomly had this idea and wanted to act on it before I forgot about it!

- summary: it’s ten years after you graduated high school and your best friend convinces you to go to the reunion. you’re hesitant because you wonder if someone you never really stopped thinking about will be there... - jeon jungkook x reader - (past high school peers) au - word count: 2.5k - in this story there will be parts from the reader’s POV which is normal font like this, and jungkook’s third person POV in italics like this

A/N: in this first chapter there is a bit of explaining of the past but it’s relevant to the story so please bear through it! I still think it turned out pretty well! Feedback is always appreciated :)

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“I still can’t believe you convinced me to go to this thing.”

That comment made your best friend laugh in response from the bathroom that was adjoined to her bedroom where she was applying the last bit of her make-up.

“Come on, I really think we will have a great time! We’ve done really well for ourselves the past 10 years!”

You sighed as she stepped out.

“Plus,” she continued, “you look smokin’ hot.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled and took a look at yourself in the full length mirror.

You had to admit, you did feel pretty confident. After all, it wasn’t often that you dolled yourself up as much as this.

She grabbed a pair of diamond earrings off her dresser and stood next to you at the mirror to put them on.

“And I really want to see how much the people from our high school graduating class have changed, you know?”

You scoffed and made eye contact with her reflection.

“Mina, please. By ‘people’ you mean ‘guys’, and by ‘changed’ you mean ‘have gotten hotter’.”

She winked at you playfully and gave you a mischievous smile.

“Ah y/n, you know me too well.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes again.

“Now come on,” she turned and grabbed her bag that was laying on the bed, “we have to go or we’re going to be late.”

Your ten year high school reunion was located at a rooftop bar in downtown Seoul, overlooking the Han River, the Namsan Tower not too far in the distance. It was an absolutely beautiful evening just before the start of sunset. The air pollution was at a minimum and there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky.

As you and Mina stepped out of the elevator and onto the rooftop terrace you were immediately offered a glass of champagne. You took it without hesitation; knowing you were going to need it in order to face some of these people that you hadn’t seen in almost 10 years.

Back in high school, you weren’t hated by any means, you just weren’t very popular. You hung around with pretty much the same group of friends, with Mina being the only one you really kept in touch with these days.

You and Mina were assigned lab partners freshman year and the two of you instantly clicked which took you by surprise since Mina was quite different from you. She was confident, loud, and unapologetically herself. She had helped you get out of your shell more, be less shy… and was the only reason you entered that friend group in the first place. But alas, you still were who you were, with Mina’s help or not, so while she was definitely memorable, you couldn’t help but think that you on the other hand, were definitely forgettable. Would anyone here even remember your name?

“Oh my god, Mina!”

A girl from aforementioned friend group approached the two of you. Her arms were stretched out as she wrapped Mina in a small hug.

You remembered her name was Jenny, though the two of you were never close.

Jenny turned toward you, her smile fading a bit.

“And, um… Mina’s friend!”

Point proven.

Instantly you felt small and regretful for agreeing to come here. Was this how it was going to go the whole evening?

She gave you a fake smile and hug (if you could even call it that), too.

“Come on, Jen, this is (y/n),” Mina spoke up, “My best friend. She’s the only one I decided to keep in touch with all these years!”

You smiled to yourself.

This is why you loved Mina. She was always there to stick up for you… and throw subtle shade.

“Ah, (y/n), of course I remember! Don’t be silly, Mina, I was just making a joke! What, did you lose your sense of humor after all these years?”

She waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal and let out a fake laugh.

There was an awkward pause.

“Right, well, it was good to see you, Jenny, but right now I desperately need another drink,” Mina held up her already empty champagne glass, “we’ll see you around, okay?”

Before Jenny could respond Mina started pushing you away and towards the bar.

“God, what a bitch,” she whispered in your ear, “Why did we come here again?”

You chuckled.

“Min, this was your idea!”

Mina rolled her eyes.

“Damnit, you’re right.”

And the two of you laughed together.

But then, almost instantaneously, you stopped.

Because there he was. The one person you were most anxious to see.

Standing right at the bar.

Everything around you seemed to disappear.

Your heart sped up.

He looked so good. And so different. But so. Damn. Good.

“Whoa. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Mina’s sudden voice from next to you snapped you out of your thoughts.

You glanced back at her and followed her gaze to exactly where you had just been staring.

Wait, had she been looking at him, too?

She grasped your arm tightly.

“Isn’t that Kim Taehyung? Oh my god. Who knew he would become so handsome? He looks like a freaking Greek GOD.”

You chuckled slightly.

So, she wasn’t looking at the same person as you were. You felt relieved.

But then she asked,

“And who is that next to him?”

Your face instantly got warm. You didn’t have to look again to know exactly who she was referring to.

She continued her speculation,

“Oh wait… is that-“

“Jeon Jungkook.”

You answered quickly… maybe suspiciously quickly.

Immediately you covered your tracks, “Uh, I think that’s him anyway”.

Mina cocked her head.

“Ah that’s right! Jungkook! Wow… he got handsome, too.”

She wasn’t wrong.

You remembered high school Jungkook perfectly. Back then, he had a nice helmet of dark brown hair, with bangs that fell over his forehead and swept to the side. He was taller than you, but small and kind of awkward; like his body hadn’t gone through puberty yet. He had a sweet smile that resembled a bunny because of two slightly larger front teeth. He was good at everything and anything he tried, talent seemed to run through his veins like blood.

But most of all, he was just generally such a nice guy. He was always helping people when they needed it, like carrying heavy books for girls (and not just the pretty ones), inviting unpopular guys to his friends’ parties (despite his friends’ protests), and staying incredibly modest despite his endless and obvious talents. He was a really good person, and because of that he was very popular with both the boys and girls.

It was also because of all these very reasons that you had fallen for him.

Yes, like many people at your school, you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook.

But, unlike those other people, you and Jungkook actually had a relationship… well, if you could even call it that. It wasn’t a “relationship” relationship, not even close. In fact, could you really have even called it a friendship?

You had two classes together senior year, neither of which either of you had any friends in (more surprising for him since he had way more friends than you), and it just so happened that you were assigned to sit next to each other in both classes. One day, while in Korean class, he leaned over to your desk and asked you about a question on the assignment (why he was asking you, the non-Korean, a question about Korean you had no idea) but ever since then the two of you would work together in both classes, and always partner up when it was required. Because of this, a couple times you even went to his house to work on projects, and vice versa. He would also say “hi” to you in the halls and smile that bunny smile, which he continued to do until the end of the year. You even remembered that at one point you thought he was going to ask you to hang out, not sure as friends or as more, but then in the moment he suddenly changed the subject, never brought it up again, and you were too shy to ask about it. So finally, when graduation came, the two of you went your separate ways, and you never saw him again.

Well, until now.

Tonight he wore a black suit jacket with a silky black shirt underneath, the top couple of buttons undone which subtly revealed an obviously toned chest. The suit jacket, you noticed, barely fit around his muscular upper arms. Clearly lifting weights was something he had been working on these past 10 years. His waist was still small though, the shirt was tucked in around it into the matching black suit pants. When he briefly raised his arm to swipe a piece of his semi-shaggy jet black bangs out of his face you noticed rings adorning his long fingers. And wait… were those tattoos on his hand, too? And a lip and eyebrow piercing? You were shocked; definitely didn’t expect the shy and innocent Jungkook from high school to end up with finger tattoos and facial piercings.

He was leaning against the bar with the same group of friends he had always hung out with in high school and based on their Facebook posts everyone knew they all still hung out to this day. There were seven of them, and they were the popular group back then; every guy wanted to be their friend, every girl wanted to date one of them.

In fact, Mina had dated one of them. His name was Jimin. He was sweet, and handsome in the pretty, more feminine type of way. Despite the fact that their relationship didn’t work out, they had still stayed friends for the remainder of their time in school together.

So sure enough, once Mina laid eyes on him she wasted no time in loudly yelling his name to get his attention.

“Park Jimin!”

At the sound of their friend being called, all seven of them turned to look at the two of you.

That’s when you and Jungkook made eye contact for the first time in 10 years.

Your heart felt like it leapt into your throat and immediately you looked away. He probably didn’t remember who you were anyway, so you wanted to hold on to the good memories you had of your time together back then rather than replace them with disappointing memories of tonight.

Jimin’s smile instantly got wider when he saw who had called his name, and he said something to the other guys before practically bounding his way over to where you were standing.

“Ohwaaa, Lee Mina! Is that really you??”

Jimin wrapped his arms around her in a huge hug and swayed her back and forth. He had always been extremely physically affectionate so that obviously hadn’t changed.

“It’s me, Jiminie, right here in the flesh!” Mina replied, returning his big hug.

Jimin stepped back and took a look at her.

“Wow, Mina, you look even prettier now than back then…”

From any other guy that may have been a creepy thing to say, but from Jimin it was always just complete sincerity. There wasn’t a creepy bone in his body, never had been.

Mina giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, stop it… and you’re one to talk! I see the eye liner and extra-macho clothes are gone. You look great, Jimin.”

At this he smiled so widely that his eyes almost disappeared, just looking like crescent shapes on his cherubic face.

Then he turned to you and wrapped you in an equally large hug, bumping your champagne glass and causing the remainder of it to spill out onto the floor.

“And (y/f/n) (y/l/n), it’s so good to see you, too. You’re so beautiful as well, wow.”

You blushed at this and quietly thanked him.

Then he said,

“So how have you two been? Are you still living in Seoul?”

The three of you continued engaging in friendly conversation as the night carried on.

Jungkook swirled around the small amount of brown liquid that remained in his glass, attempting not to stare over to where Jimin had just left the group to go. He wanted to look, though… he really wanted to look.

For he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you here. You had always been rather shy, he remembered, so he was surprised you had come. Maybe you were convinced by the friend who stood next to you, a girl Jimin had dated he remembered, but he couldn’t quite recall her name. That’s what he would guess anyway, that she had wanted you to tag along. Though he supposed you could have changed… it had been almost 10 years after all.

“God damn,” Jungkook looked up at his best friend, Taehyung, who had interrupted his thoughts, “who is Jimin-ssi talking to?”

Jungkook used this as an excuse to look over at you. You were laughing at something your friend was saying.

“Hmm… I think he used to date her. I don’t remember her name.”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No no, I’m not talking about Mina, I meant the other girl, the girl next to her.”

Jungkook swallowed the rest of his drink. The liquid burned as it went down his throat.

“Oh, uh… that’s, uh, (y/n).”

Jungkook’s cheeks suddenly felt flushed at the sound of your name coming from his mouth. It was probably just the alcohol, he figured.

“Hmmm, (y/n)…” Taehyung repeated, “I don’t remember her. Did you know her?”

Jungkook shrugged, pretending to be uninterested.

“Uh, yeah, I think we had a couple classes together.”

Taehyung replied after taking a sip from his glass, “Wow… she is really attractive. I would have thought I would have remembered someone that pretty…”

Taehyung’s comment instantly made Jungkook perk his head up. He followed Taehyung’s gaze, using it as another excuse to glance at you. And this time, he let his eyes linger on you for just a little while longer.

Taehyung was wrong; for you weren’t just pretty… you were absolutely beautiful.

The way your black satin, spaghetti strap dress flowed over your body, but still managed to hug your obvious curves. It stopped mid-calf, with a slit down the side of the leg that went up almost dangerously high. Your hair was in waves as it cascaded down your shoulders and onto your bare back.

But what caught Jungkook’s attention the most was the smile that accompanied your laugh. It brightened up your face and made you seem confident and carefree. A feeling of warmth and familiarity suddenly overtook Jungkook, catching him by surprise, and in an instant all the memories of the two of you back then came flooding into his mind.

Yes, he remembered now.

He had been absolutely smitten with you.

And seeing you here again reminded him of just why.

masterlist

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