#what historians are you talking about. your high school history teacher???? like people are talking about it

[ale-arro]

a picture of ppl in a qpr captioned "historians will say they were lovers"

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

╰┈ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 ┈➤

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : liam could’ve sworn this was the first time you’d met, so why does he feel like you know him better then he knew himself?

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reincarnation modern!au, billy isn’t billy but rather liam, and he’s an actor, this part is pretty long

𝐚/𝐧 : inspired by my friends shenanigans and talks of reincarnation! hope you enjoy!!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

William loved Billy the Kid.

Your very own kid brother, WIlliam, had declared his own nickname to be Billy because of just how much he loved the famous western legend. Ever since you had told him of the old famed outlaw, he’s been obsessed. He changed his nickname, his clothing style, he even tried speaking in a drawled western accent like they did the old black and white cowboy shows, which Billy also loved.

He printed and weathered his very own copies of the Kid’s wanted posters, decorating our small ranch house with homemade wanted posters of me, himself, and our Pa. He printed vintage movie posters and the famous old photo of Billy the Kid to show off to anyone who'd visit your little gem in the middle of nowhere in Southern California. He even begged you and your father to teach him how to shoot just so he can connect with his hero. 

Billy had also coerced you into sewing him trousers and a blouse just like the Kid wore in his iconic wanted poster. He would steal your fathers hats and boots as well as your wine red cardigan, walk outside, toothpick in mouth, playing pretend.

Billy’d pretend that he was in the famed Lincoln County War, surrounded by Jesse Evans and his gang of misfits employed under Murphy and the House. He’d use his pretend gun and shoot all the bad guys down just as Billy the Kid had at the burning McSween house.

Of course, as Billy grew up, so did you. You had left your father’s ranch, your home, and moved to Los Angeles to finish high school and attend university. 

In university, you ended up studying history and visual communication. You loved history, tales of old, myths and legends, all of it. You were the one who taught your kid brother about the famed Billy the Kid on a road trip through the American South-West once after all.

It was your senior year of high school when you had finally found your calling. During that school year, you had found yourself signed up for a theater class. However, you were terrible at acting. You couldn’t memorize lines and your singing voice was locked up in your shower, the key thrown away and never to be found. 

Of course, your best friend, Lucy, had gotten the lead role of the play. She was born and raised in Hollywood, the land of movie magic. She was a natural, her improv and memorization skills making her one of the top people in that theater class. Her voice was akin to a sweet angel which is why the musical theater club always cast her as the lead, even in musicals such as Shrek where she played the big, burly green ogre to perfection. 

However, Lucy was very particular about her costumes. She loved you for that exact reason. You, ever since you were a child, had been talented at sewing and costume making. And on top of that, you loved historical processes and authenticity. So, of course in an attempt to include you in their play, Lucy sang praises about your skill as a designer and a historian to your teacher who had awarded you with the title “Art Director”, whatever that meant.

What did matter was that you had the time of your life. Being an expert on history, especially the Wild West which was where the play was set in, you were considered the saving grace of the play. You had led the costume department, aka you and one other classmate, in creating historical-ish costumes for each and every one of the 21 different characters. You had also led the stage crew in creating the backdrops and settings with props which all were weathered by you to look as if you had plucked them straight out of Gunsmoke or even Bonanza. 

You had discovered your love for design and history there, carrying that love with you as you went on to enhance your studies in college. As time passed on, you started to post your creations online, oftentimes getting commissioned to create costumes and even design pro global pieces based on time periods or films. Most of these posts of course were of Lucy in her costumes she asked you to make for her for her plays and musicals as she went on to professionally act and perform in live performances and movies. 

Naturally, as your account and following grew, so did your opportunities. Soon, you found yourself being contacted by actors and actresses alike, asking you to design their premiere looks. Even movie studios contracted you as a consultant to help with their movies. Of course, you accepted the position. Even your papa and Billy had been ecstatic to hear about your new passion, especially so when you told them about your new consultant gig.

After accepting the job as a historical design consultant for movie studios, you often found yourself working with costume departments, helping make sure the costumes seemed plausible for their time period. You were consulted with on set designs, making sure furniture and other items on set actually existed during that time period. Everyday, you were working on something new, using history and your knowledge to bring cinematic artworks to life, transporting actors and viewers to a time or place.

Needless to say, you loved your job.

Even more so, the perks of said job.

You were paid a handsome check every month for just doing what you loved. You were invited to gala’s and dinners alike to celebrate the movies and shows you worked on. And not only that, because you were a consultant, you worked primarily from home only and for the most part, on your own time. 

You were provided with the lush fabrics and delicate threads to create costumes and pieces. You were able to use a plethora of old sewing machines from one of the very first manual spinning ones to one of the most rare, a model from 1938 of which only 43 remain.

Your ‘office’ had to be your favorite perk of working in the movie industry though. It was located on the movie studios backlot in a building called ‘Creator’s Heaven’ because it was one of the largest creative spaces in all of Hollywood. It was an upscale warehouse with shelves towering with different fabrics, lace, and threads. It had rooms called “Makers Space” dedicated to sewing with TV’s and speakers fit for a movie theater to help with boredom when sewing by hand (although it does nothing for concentration especially when one’s favorite actor is on screen). 

You also were given permission to create your own private projects in the Maker Spaces, even if you had to lug all your own materials to the rooms yourself. You loved putting on your favorite movie or show while you created costumes as a private designer or even for yourself. Of course, that’s how you found yourself in one of the rooms one warm night in late July. 

You had promised your brother that you would make him a new costume for the Old Lincoln Days festival in New Mexico you went to every year. It was always one of the highlights of your lonely summers in LA. Your papa and lil Billy still lived on your darling little ranch which always made you homesick when your Pa would video call you and show you how much the cattle had grown or how full the fields were.

But every summer, you drove down south, picking up Billy, costumes in hand. You would then endure the incredibly dull landscape of the South-West for three days, stopping along other towns every now and then to rest, eat, and even stay the night. 

You spent the drive singing to the songs on the radio in your little SUV, AC on full blast, the cool air would sting your noses but keep you from roasting alive in the heat of the sun. You would talk with Billy about his schooling, how life was going for you too. But by far, your favorite part had to be about how Billy’s eyes lit up at every mention of the movies you helped make. Truth was, while Billy still loved Billy the Kid, he also has fallen in love with many many other movies. 

Sometimes, when your father would drive all the way to LA with Billy to visit you, you would also take Billy with you to work as an assistant of some sorts. Billy always was so energetic and buzzed with happiness whenever you did bring him along. 

You always enjoyed seeing your Papa and Billy, even if it was only ever on a video call. You loved getting to see your baby brother grow up into middle school then to high school. He had decided to stay with your Pa, helping out on the ranch and attending school in town. He had grown so much too. He nearly towered over you at the tender age of 15. His legs may have grown longer but his smile still stayed as boyish as it always was.

Which is why you loved your road trips to New Mexico. Even if it was only for a little under a week, you loved getting time to spend with your kid brother. Billy and you also loved getting to dress up like they did in the Wild Wild West too. You always made sure to update Billy’s costume because of how much he grew in a year. But you? You always always wore the same get up. Dark chestnut trousers that met your hips, straps pulled over your shoulders which lay on top of your deep red blouse. Even a gun belt, the leather hanging a little loose on your waist.

You never knew why you always wore the same old clothes but it always felt right to wear when you visited New Mexico. 

Liam loathed driving to New Mexico. 

He didn’t understand why but it always felt wrong. And yet here he was, Garett and Evan in tow, his best friends in the entire world. 

Growing up, Billy didn’t have much. His family moved from the big city to New Mexico in fact. His Ma worked night and day as part of the local Inn’s housekeeper. His Pa worked out on the ranches and farms, helping whoever would pay him while Liam stayed home in their small two bedroom cabin with his baby brother Jo. 

Naturally, as both Jo and Liam got older, they too started to work. Liam helped his Ma and Pa however he could. He learned to ride a horse to help herd the cattle, harvest wheat and grain, how to herd cattle, how to sew, clean, and cook. He worked hard at night, helping his Ma at the Inn while going to school in the morning with Jo.

And that’s exactly how Liam’s life went on for the next ten years. Slaving the day away at school, trying to get an education while working at night to try and help pay the bills. 

Yet it was in New Mexico that Liam had found his passion.

It was Liam’s 17th summer alive when his Pa had surprised him with a trip to Lincoln. The occasion? It had been a celebration of the official end of the Lincoln County war. The festival had been held for many years now, many tourists coming to visit the famous Old Lincoln Days festival where they celebrated Billy the Kid and his famous legend. 

Little did all those tourists know, drive a little more North and you’d find that the Lincoln days weren’t too far gone.

Of course, Liam’s Pa didn’t do anything without good reason. It had taken Liam a little over five years to convince his father that they needed a car, the reason his Pa finally cracked? Liam told him that it had an A/C. 

Turns out, the real reason that Liam’s Pa had taken him to Lincoln that fateful summer was all because he had signed up Liam for the lead role in the famous shooting reenactment. Every year, the first weekend of August, the festival would kick off with it’s old timey cantina’s and saloons. They even had elaborate Wild West costumes and ‘cowboys’ that would ride their steeds up and down the street, talking in drawled accents and jumbled up lingo that had to have been made up. They would take swigs from flasks and chew on long stems of wheat that rested in between their teeth.

Liam hated it. It sends shivers down his spine every time he even feels a whisper of a memory of that first time he played the Kid in the festival his father had volunteered him for.

Liam had only had three days to practice the scene, yet it was almost like muscle memory for him. They were reenacting the scene where Sheriff Pat Garrett shoots and kills the Kid. 

It truthfully felt as if he had been in that exact same position. Why or when? Liam could never figure it out, no matter how much he wracked around his jumble of memories.

It was as if he had actually been walking down the streets of Lincoln, after dinner presumably. It was as if he felt the malicious eyes of Garett staring him down as he asked 

“¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?“. 

It almost felt right to fall to the Sheriff’s gun, almost as if he truly was William H Bonney who had lost everyone he’s ever loved to death who also begged for the sweet relief that he would find in the afterlife.

It always irked Liam. Nevertheless, he was just grateful that he got paid. 

As the years passed, Liam started to fall in love with the role, volunteering every year up until he moved away for college. He wasn’t Billy every year, once he was actually Sheriff Garrett, but he always got to work with his best friends Evan and Garett, who he actually met at 17 while volunteering. In fact the three were so close that they all moved together to sunny California from arid New Mexico. 

And they have been together ever since. They all fell in love with theater and acting, especially during the re-enactments they all did in the festival back home. The trio attended community college together, renting a small two bedroom apartment together. They all worked their asses off to make rent each month while studying Trigonometry and American History.

As for how they survived in a two bedroom apartment? Well, thanks to their very special schedules with work and school, only two of them would ever be sleeping at one time. Evan couldn’t properly function until at least 2 PM which meant that he slept through the morning and was out late at night. Garrett also had a very unique schedule, rather than sleeping ten hours at once, he split it up. He’d wake up bright and early at 4 AM, leaving for his morning job down at the police station where he helped sort paperwork and whatever, come back to the apartment to nap from a little after lunch till 6 PM where he and Evan would usually go out for drinks before attending class together.

Liam never really understood how those two functioned drunk on beer, learning in the middle of the night, and working odd hours. Liam had prided himself on being the most responsible of course. He’d wake up early as well, attending classes in the morning until lunch rolled around where he’d go to his job at an old family-owned diner. 

He loved working at that little diner, it never failed to remind him of his Ma who also ran a diner and bakery back in New Mexico. She’d even open up a little pop up shop in Lincoln in time for the festival where she attracted tourists and locals alike with her delightful baked goods and savory dishes she spent hours on preparing.

It was moments like those that Liam thought of on the hard days. As the trio worked through community college, they also all started auditioning for other roles and jobs. Of course, being young and new to the whole acting scene, rarely did anyone choose the kids from the middle of nowhere New Mexico.

That is, until they held auditions for a rendition of the famous Billy the Kid story. Garett had been talking to an agent who had managed many many famous actors who were looking for new blood. It was through that agent that he had found the audition which he told the boys. Of course, Liam was ecstatic. At 20, Liam had been faced with countless empty email inboxes when it came to roles he auditioned for. Even Evan and Garett had consistently pulled Ad and modeling gigs. So, as one does when one is down on their luck, Liam remarked,

“Fuck it, what do I gotta lose?”

Liam regards that moment of uncertainty when he closed his eyes and clicked ‘Sign Up For Audition’ as the best thing he’s ever done. 

He had driven to the theater where they were holding auditions all by himself since neither of the other two were gonna audition for any of the roles since they had booked another Ad campaign the week before. 

In honesty, Liam was so nervous waiting in that line that slithered through the hallways filled with other boys and men around his age, height, and build. He could still feel the way that his hands nervously shook as he reread the script over and over and over again. He was usually good at memorizing things like math formulas and other lines of plays and musicals yet he just felt so jittery. Perhaps it was because he was playin’ Billy the Kid, a character he’s played before. Perhaps it was because he was from New Mexico and he had a hankering to do one of his states heroes good.

Regardless, Liam still walked straight ahead onto the stage, performing the lines as best as he could without choking on the words. Of course, Lady Luck refused to grace Liam at that moment where he had forgotten the line. He panicked and scrambled to recall all those years of playing Billy, speedily racking his brain for any form of assistance it could relay him with. 

Of course, his brain ran on empty, nothing came out of his mouth. Or well, nothing came out of his mouth but his hands moved on instinct. Liam had quickly raised his gun from the belt they had given him to use as a prop. He channeled each of those years of learning how to actually shoot a gun as well as how to quickly draw it to move his arm at lightning speed. 

And it must’ve worked because the casting directors yelled cut on the tape, urging Liam to come close to the table they sat at. They then truly surprised Liam by asking where he had learned to draw that fast. Liam explained that he had grown up in a small town just a bit away from Lincoln where he had learned almost everything he knew from his loving Pa.

He told them about his family, the farm he grew up on, and his experience on stage as Billy. They applauded him and snag praises of his ability as well as his knowledge on the outlaw. In truth, Liam was relieved that the casting directors had been impressed with his quick draw.

The pride Liam felt as the casting directors sent everyone else in line away as they started sharing the timeline and filming details. He felt his chest swell with happiness and giddiness as they began discussing the script and how the hours were gonna look while filming. 

That day has truly been one for the books, seeing as Liam did journal. 

He loved recounting and writing about his days and feelings. He always felt it was right from when he was younger till today, it just felt right. Yet, it was the one thing he couldn’t explain, it felt as if he had done it before. 

But when?

The streets of Lincoln were alive with the buzz of laughter, happiness, and the allure of the Wild Wild West. The streets were filled with people who had arrived early to celebrate the Old Lincoln Days. 

Of course, that group of people also included you and your brother.

You two would consistently try to get to the event early to enjoy all the festivities that were available. You would take your eager brother to the shooting range where you could shoot pellet shotguns at cans as they did in the old days to practice their aim. You would drag your poor brother to each of the shops to look at the lovely pieces of jewelry that artisans made.

Walking around the small town, you truly felt transported into the Old Lincoln days with people dressed up in all sorts of get ups from modern day cowboys, to old American debutantes. You loved the aura the town held as they celebrated their past. No matter how dark it was.

“Hey sis?” Billy's meek voice pulled your attention from the third jewelry store of the night. You loved looking at the dazzling gold and silver, you especially were fascinated by the deep dark blue sapphires that were lined up on the display.

“Yea Billy,” you turn to him, looking into his eyes that mirrored your fathers own. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing, just wonderin’ why you never buy anything from these jewelry stores that you visit every year.” You chuckled. Billy asked that every single year and every single year your answer was the same,

“Cause Billy, I got my trusty necklace. What else would I need? You know I just like browsing.” You smiled, slowly walking away from the stall. Your fingers instinctively found their way to your neck where lo and behold, your necklace was still hung loose from your neck.

Truth was you never could remember how you came into possession of the lovely chain. All you knew is that ever since you were young you remembered wearing the chain with a charm of a worn bullet swinging from the end of it. Even your father couldn’t recall when you had started wearing the necklace, it was as if it had been with you since the beginning of time.

“Well, can we start un-browsing and get some food at that one pub inside that old hotel?” He looked at you in his dapper new get up consisting of a simple dark striped blouse and trousers. However, the new gun belt around his waist was very much not simple. It had nearly taken you three hours alone to prep the tough leather you had used to create it. You could still feel the rough texture of the leather underneath your fingertips, the feeling of having to push and pull the thick needle up and down through the strong material. It had been a pain to make but seeing how happy your brother had looked when he wore it for the first time was worth it. 

“Sure, why don’t we even grab some of those pastries you love so much while we’re at it?” You sling an arm around Billy’s tall frame, walking towards the small pop-up bakery your brother adored.

“Yes!” He laughed, sprinting to the shop in three seconds flat thanks to his inherently long legs. He quickly picked up his favorite pastry, turning to you once he got to the young boy at the cash register who couldn’t have been more than three years older than your own brother.

You smiled as they started talking, looking at the other wonderfully tasty looking breads that were on display.

“See anything you like dear?” You looked up at the woman behind the counter, her dark hair and warm eyes inviting you into conversation.

“Well, everything looks very delicious ma’am. I’m guessing you’re the mastermind behind these amazing pastries?” You smiled warmly at the woman.

“Why yes I am, my lovely son Jo is manning the register this year too. He's grown up so well, just like his brother.” 

You turned to look at the two boys again, Billy showing Jo something on his phone.

“My own brother, Billy over there, absolutely loves your baked goods. Every year when we’re here, he has to come here to buy something at least once a day.” 

“What loyal customers you two are! Your brother there reminds me of my ow-”

“MA!” Jo’s voice carried from the register, “can I go with Billy here to the pub? Liam texted and told me to meet him there and Billy here said he and his sis are already gunna go.”

Jo’s Ma sighed and chuckled at her son, her head shaking as she smiled, “Yes of course you can go meet up with your brother at the pub.” She quickly folded a box up, filling it to the brim with pastries. Nimbly, she folded the lid before walking to her son, taking his un-tied apron from him. 

“Here, since you two have been coming here for years, why don’t you take this box of pastries, on the house.” Billy lit up, singing thanks ecstatically. He and Jo rushed out of the small shop, running towards the pub. You quietly thanked the lady for the pastries as you followed the two trouble makers out and back into the hustle and bustle of Lincoln.

You quickly catch up to the boys who have already pushed open the doors of the small but packed pub. There were tables crowded with people dressed as cowboys and sheriffs all toasting to the Regulators, people dressed as debutantes munching on tamales made by locals, and even people just in plain tees knocking down shots of tequila. 

It was a very familiar scene and most definitely a welcome sight.

Billy and Jo sat down at one of the tables, further away from the bar of course, eagerly discussing their clothes which Jo was wearing a very similar version of. You sat down next to Billy, looking around as they happily chatted their head off in the already loud space.

They placed their order, continuing to chatter off about Billy the Kid and the reenactment happening tomorrow. You looked around, observing the costumes people wore.

“Hey Jo, who’re these folks?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a rich, deep voice. You raised your head to look at the man who had just strolled on over to your table.

Liam had walked into the pub expecting his younger brother to be seated at their usual booth. What Liam hadn't expected was for his lil’ brother to be accompanied by another boy around his age and a woman. Where had a boy as young as Jo even found a girl to pick up already? 

Liam walked on over only to be met with a view like no other. You were no girl, you were an angel. And when you looked up at Liam with those bright round eyes, Liam could have died a happy man. Everything caught his attention, your wavy hair in an updo, your soft lips which were begging to be kissed, and your necklace, a bullet hanging in between the valley of your chest. 

“Liam!” Jo jumped, startling you out of your trance. You had been shocked by Jo’s older brother, Liam. His hair was the loveliest chestnut waves that begged for fingers to run through. He wore a dark blue blouse and deep burgundy trousers. His eyes were what captivated you the most. His deep blue eyes reminded you of the beautifulest sapphires that even the color of the ocean and night sky couldn’t even hope to beat.

Jo stood up, sending his chair back as he hugged his brother’s torso. Liam chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, committing the sound to memory. You smiled at the interaction which reminded you so much of yourself and Billy. 

All four of you sat down again as the food arrived. You all shared the food, Jo and Billy continuing to chatter leaving you and Liam to your devices as you sat across from each other. You two averted your eyes from one another, heat rising to both your cheeks nervous to talk to the other. 

Liam tried not to stare, really, but you were mesmerizing. You shined brighter than any star could, and your smile? Liam only caught a glimpse of it and yet he knew that the warm feeling he felt in his chest was not heat exhaustion.

“Sooo,” you started, trying to get the man across from you talking again,” I’m Billy here’s older sister, by the way. I don’t know if you need to or even want to know but my name’s,” you drawled, your voice getting quieter and quieter until you uttered your name.

Liam perked up at that, meeting your eyes once more. Where had he heard that name before?

He whispered your name and you could have sworn that the room had gotten 100 degrees hotter from the way his deep voice drawled the syllables of your name. “ As in the famous Billy the Kid’s lover?”

You shook your head chuckling. In all the years you have been alive, there has never been a moment where the first connection someone made with your name was the ill fated lover of William H Bonney. 

“Yes, exactly that. How do you know that?”

“Well it ain’t that hard to connect darlin’, your kid brother’s the outlaw ‘n your his girl. Your parents must’ve loved the Kid.”

“Well actually, it was me who sparked Billy’s nickname, his real name’s William though so I guess he is the Kid. isn’t he?”

Liam laughed at that, small world isn’t it?

“Hey! What’s so funny over there mister?” You sternly gazed at the man. From afar, one could argue that Liam looked young and spry but once you take a closer look, he isn’t a boy at all. He's pure man, all six feet of him. Taut muscle toned his body which was broad and clean. 

“Nothin’ darlin’, just, it’sa small world ain’t it? My name’s William too.” He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. You felt your lips turn upwards at the man in front of you.

“Well then, Mr. William, what do you do for a living?”

You smile as Liam happily responds, continuing the conversation late into the night. Even Billy and Jo had left to go roam around the festival. You and Liam continued your happy chatter, a small tug pulling at your heartstrings.

You’ve met before right? That's impossible, you two clearly have never seen each other. Yet why was it like Liam knew you better than anyone? Why did it feel as if you had already shared these smiles and laughs?

Was this even the night you two had first met?

sorry that its so long and it TOOK FOREVER to post, just been real busy anyways, i hope you enjoyed!

[deathsmallcaps]

(USA based sorry)

I’m definitely speaking into an echo chamber but like.

Nearly every algebra student I tutor ends up with a word problem involving the gender wage gap. And they’re all confounded by it and have no clue.

And a guy in my fucking Calc 3 class was like “wait you guys were serious? That’s real?” When it came up. BRO YOU’RE ABOUT OLD ENOUGH TO DRINK???

It’s amazing what is and isn’t common knowledge. Feminist history isn’t taught past “and then women got their right to vote :)))))).” With occasional mentions of Title IX and the late 1900s waves of feminism. Of course only in in-depth history classes, not general Ed. Wow.

I am not in training to be a historian or a history teacher, but by all that is right in the world I hope it becomes more normalized and common to speak about shit that is LESS than 100 years ago in depth when it comes to American History & culture. Wtf. I swear even when I took AP history* the professor was afraid to touch on that stuff. For some reason (happily) my English teachers were a lot more willing to teach about modern history & minority stories.

And this is just what affects my white anglo cishetallo abled-passing housed female life personally. I cannot truly imagine the feeling of personal erasure & irritation one of comes to other identities & issues that have only relatively recently been resolved, addressed, acknowledged or even only pointedly ignored. I am fucking angry FOR you and can’t wait for things to change. You ALL deserve better. Don’t forget that.

It’s not your job to educate these people or their children (unless you’re literally a history teacher or something) but I want to shake the people who decide these what gets taught until the cowardice & insecurity & thoughtlessness & malice & election-based anxiety shits out of their assholes and leaves their hearts hungering for intelligent, thoughtful & interested discussions on modern issues and genuine history that should not be squeezed into the last pages of textbooks out of fear of offending paper white & paper thin pride.

Human rights deserve attention. Human rights should not have to be a radical talking point. It should be both as natural and expected as breathing clean air & as ingrained and knowable as to be accessible in math problems.

There is so much to be done. And it is exhausting. But please know that you are not alone.

*interesting tidbit below but basically irrelevant to the above post

I took AP america history to learn about the parts of American history that are never, or barely, covered in history classes throughout the grades. Basically, if it happened outside of the Puritans-WWII, it’s got a poor chance chance of in-depth coverage. And while the class did teach me good analysis skills and some interesting facts, it mostly covered the exact fucking periods I mentioned above.

And you know what? Literally right before we took the AP test, our teacher told us “study up on periods 2-7” (im pretty sure there are 9 periods of American history, forgive me it’s been like 5 years) “they never test on 1, 8 or 9”. Guess what the essay questions were on. And guess what time periods 1,8 & 9 are? If you posited precolonial america, the mid 1900s and modern day, ding ding ding you’re the winner! :))))))

(AP classes are worth it if you’re bored and/or trying to cut down on the amount of classes you’ll take in college & thus save money. But a lot (not all) of the AP certified teachers will try to convince you it’s the be all, end all of learning in high school. Also the weighted GPAs are a scam. No one looks at those. If you’re worried about keeping a good average, stick to the class level that fits within both circles of ‘not boring’ and ‘not going to wreck your life’. You can take an AP test and have it count and not take the class. Just be warned it is genuinely difficult.)

[terrainofheartfelt]

Sort of inspired by your discussion of Jenny needing to go to London alone to really grow into herself and mature as a person, in an ideal world in which none of the main characters were forcibly tethered to the UES or its more toxic inhabitants post-high school, how do you generally - like broad strokes - imagine them developing as people in college and throughout their twenties? I always wonder where everyone might have ended up had they not been constrained by the type of narrative they were living in, and I’d love to hear any headcanons you have on the subject!

I've been thinking about this on and off since i received it (an embarrassingly - for me - amount of time ago) and now finally feel like I can answer.

because, like, what if we weren't constrained by the harsh realities of making tv? what if the rules meant that they could leave new york?

well, first, let's dovetail off jen moving to london and blossoming, and send eric along with her. he can go to cambridge, or any of the other big name universities in the area, and he and jenny would be flatmates and live their own hilarious queer sitcom of being students in london.

I've already plugged nads' yale au in my answers this evening, but I still really like the idea of dan and blair attending yale, and outside of the maelstrom of manhattan drama, they settle into their own selves and learn they could actually...like each other? and then they fall in LOVE as far as careers, they are the most driven. and we've talked about novelist dan and editress blair and art historian blair and college prof dan.....but lately I've been thinking about blair working in costuming. It's not high fashion design, but I think it's a great synthesis of the things we know blair loves: literature, film, history, art history & fashion history, Evil Dictator of Good Taste, being a specialist and big boss on a niche subject...yeah...

i still enjoy the idea of vanessa being at nyu, or at another arts college in nyc, and making her own way and building her own story (without being boxed in to the secondary character of anyone else's story!) I like the idea of her attending Tisch too, and expanding her skill set into screenwriting in that way.

to plug another au by a friend, S's goodbye stranger introduced the concept of Serena attending Berkeley, and I LOVE it. I love that for her. Berserk-ley. I think that school in that part of the country would be where Serena would really thrive. She becomes a full glamorous SF queen. perhaps she opens a coffee shop. Blair is outwardly mortified but inwardly very proud.

As for Nate, I think he is the character who really should take a gap year. It's never questioned, but the way he is yanked around by the collar those first two seasons, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that nate would decide that he needs some time to figure out what it is he wants. sidebar: bc the serena gap year felt disingenuous in many ways, yk? serena was so eager to leave new york and go to school and study. she likes learning, we see it, and the opportunity to reinvent herself that college would provide....why would she walk away from it? except for TV Reasons. so, I like the thought of nate taking at least a year. traveling, volunteering, maybe he takes a community college course or two. he falls off the grid for a while and he realizes how healthy and how happy he feels without the constant eyes and pressure of his family & gossip girl. and after that time, he's found what he actually wants to do, and goes to school to do it. -- as always, I'm fond of nate working in health care, as a nurse or pt or something, but it could really be anything. teacher? chef? social worker? children's librarian? (actually culinary student nate has come up in convos with ivy & cherry before and I am into it.)

and uhhhhhh i guess chip wiskers can crash his inherited business and money into the ground bc lets be real that fucko would try to launch his own cryptocurrency and since he seems to hold such disdain for education and self-betterment, he stagnates and falls off the face of the earth byeeee

[cryptidsurveys]

Monday, November 11th, 2024.

who will you be with saturday night? My dad and my kitties.

what woke you up this morning? Nothing in particular. Just my circadian rhythm, I suppose.

if you took a drug test would you pass it? Yeah.

is tomorrow going to be a good night? Tomorrow is my "Friday," so it should be extra relaxing knowing I have two days off ahead of me.

did you kiss or hug anyone today? No.

who was the last person you rode in a car with? My dad. He drove me to/from the shelter yesterday because my windshield was entombed in ice-like snow. Impossible to scrape off.

how many myspace accounts do you have? None. In the past, I had main accounts and then accounts I would use for roleplaying.

what was your first thought this morning? Probably something about how tired I was. I didn't sleep very well last night, and I went through my day in something of a daze.

do or did you like school? Nooo. I don't know why, though. I was a good student (until high school hospitalizations/absences messed that all up). Most of my teachers liked me. I was never really bullied. I was just kind of there.

where would you like to live? I've been watching YouTube shorts about a woman who lives with her partner in Longyearbyen and I'm just like…why can't that be meeeee. D; It's PERFECT.

do long distance relationships work? I'm sure they do for some people. I might be okay with long distance temporarily, but not as an ongoing thing without any concrete plans to live together eventually.

what do you want to be when you grow up? Fully self-actualized!

where do you see yourself in 5 years? Cattery lead. Possibly living in my own apartment. Hopefully recovered from my eating disorder/other mental health issues. I would also love to have a strong social circle and maybe even a romantic partner if I'm ready for such a thing.

who do you wish you were with right now? I'm happy to be at home. I've had enough socialization for the day and like I said above, I'm sleepy.

if you had one whole day to yourself, what would you do? Lounge around and listen to YouTube, take surveys, make art, maybe do some housecleaning if I felt up to it.

is anything bothering you? I don't know how to tactfully remain apart from gossipy things without drawing unwanted negativity, but I seriously do not want a repeat of the Alex situation. I think Liv and Riley would understand, but I'm not so sure Kristen and River would. Ughhh. Why can't things just be simple? The job would be so easy and chill if not for all the unpredictable social dynamics.

do you miss someone? In some ways.

what do you want to do right now? Finish this up, eat a snack, and mindlessly scroll through some YouTube comments.

are you listening to music right now? I'm not.

are you in a good mood? It could be better, but it's not terrible.

what are you doing this weekend? Working.

are you talking to anyone while doing this? No. I can't talk and take surveys at the same time. It's too distracting.

when were you the saddest in your life? 2010 up until the last year or two. I wasn't constantly miserable, but those were some incredibly hard years. I'm glad I made it out alive.

do you own more than one cell phone? No.

do you use ebay to buy or sell? I've purchased things from ebay before, but I've never sold anything.

have you ever had a song written about you? No.

have you ever sang in public? Yeah.

what do you like to listen to before you go to bed? Things like Lights Out Library, ASMR Historian, French Whisperer, Space Matters, History Of The Earth/Universe, SEA, etc.

do you have a job? I've answered this so many times.

what does your ipod have in it right now? I don't have an iPod.

have you ever loved someone and were too scared to tell them? No.

next concert? No idea.

[shadowofroses]

Untitled Itsukai Idea ch 1

Demon Slayer

Pairing: Reader x ???

Chapter 2

Warnings: Itsukai, found by Douma, brought to Muzan, somehow related to Muzan takes on the name of "Muzan's Daughter" , Psychology student, Cannibalism, Reader is a Marechi, Dream of Rengoku, Mention of "Spicy" Dreams, Demons naturally know all languages

English normal Text

Japanese text

Partially on Ao3

Story:

You rushed home, nothing that you had important to do in any case. You were just tired of your nine to five job at the convenience store.  You changed into a pair of star themed pajamas and a Pokemon t-shirt with snorlax on it. You were applying for a second job so you could earn enough to go through another semester at college. A Psychology degree was one of the most expensive you could go with, but the the pay out you were hoping would be worth more than what you would put in. 

However you were taking free courses online, and one of them was a Psychological Essay on diagnosing a fake character in a media. You took this as your time to be a dork and decided to write an essay on Douma and what you assumed was Anti-Social Personality Disorder. Most likely not the case, but for that particular paper, it sounded good at the time. You just had to make it believable then again, it was a free course, not like the paper would actually be graded. 

Why were you wasting your time on this again? Oh right, to keep the mind sharp. 

You rewatched a video on youtube in regards of the Life of Douma, and got to work. Following the video up with Akaza’s Epic version of his theme song on repeat. It was your current song fixation, and you had a hard time varying from it this week.

It wasn’t long that you continued with the essay. It was five pages and it was only based on Douma’s childhood so far. 

You looked up at the clock, it was 3 am. You yawned with exhaustion finally kicking in. Sleep overtook you fast. 

You dreamt that you were in high school all over again. Normally, your dream self would panic thinking you were about to miss a class, or that you were late for transportation. 

Upon seeing a head of Firey blond hair in front of your classroom you blinked realizing you were dreaming. Looking around the classroom you saw a world map, and multitude of historical figures. 

You were dreaming that Rengoku was your history teacher? Fuck if that was the case he would have inspired you to be a historian ages ago. “I’m spending too much time on Demon Slayer music and fanfictions…and that Essay…”

“SPEAKING OF ESSAYS!” Rengoku’s voice boomed out, “There is one due Monday in regards of the ban of Sword carrying, how people got around the law, and Ronin that went against the law!” 

Oh yeah, if this man was your history teacher in High School, you would have been a historian, with the way he excitedly talked about it, you were excited to write it. You however blinked. Wait this is a dream? I can take this into whatever direction I want!

It wasn’t often that you caught yourself Lucid Dreaming. You stood up from your desk, causing Rengoku to call out your name, “What are you doing?”

You paused, unsure of how or if to answer. The two of you were adults, it was a dream, you could make it spicy, but you never had a dream that actually finished that was Spicy in content.  Rengoku called out your name again sounding confused, and you smiled, “weren’t you teaching us the fineness of swordsmanship sir?”

The scene changed and Rengoku blinked at that, now it was just you and him outside of his family home, the both of you in period clothing, and bokkens in your hands. “YES! I was! Now What I want you to do is five hundred sword lunges in perfect form.”

Your face fell as you came to the realization that Rengoku was training you. All his Tsugoku’s ran off with the exception of Kanroji due to rigorous training. You were a downright moron. Then again it was a dream? You weren’t going to feel it in the morning. 

As you continued your lunges, “Rengoku-Sama, have you ever trained while on clouds?”

Rengoku blinked again, as the two of you randomly were in the sky training on clouds. “Nope, but I am now! This is amazing although frightening!” He started to laugh boisterously as you continued with finishing up your lunges. “Alright! Great job! Be Careful with your step! We’re going to work on the first form of Flame Breathing. Rising Scorching Sun!”

You froze in place, Flame Breathing on a cloud? Would that make it evaporate?  “I thought you only taught Tsugokus how to do Flame Breathing, I assumed, this was just training Rengoku-sama…”

Rengoku said your name, “but you are my Tsugoku! Now watchout! RISING SCORCHING SUN!” He pushed you out of the way of a Pterodactyl and sliced its head off. Your fear of the attack evaporating the cloud was valid, as the cloud fell apart and you started to fall back to the earth, with a sickening feeling in your chest and stomach. 

You sat forward scared shitless, feeling like you actually fell. Your head hurt and it was dark around you. You went to grab at your sheets, only to grab grass. You blinked, That’s not right… 

You finally started to take in your surroundings. This was not your bedroom, this was a forest. Fuck I’m still dreaming arn’t I? Okay, come on brain, take me to a lake or something so I can go swimming. 

Nothing happened. You closed your eyes, thinking of your bedroom. Expecting to wake up on your soft bed, plush pillow. Opening your eyes this time finding someone walking towards you. As they came closer, you noticed the blondish white hair, and you couldn’t pin down the colors of the eyes, as there were multiple colors shining. Like a rainbow. You heard something spoken in Japanese, and you started shuffling backwards “Oh no no no no no. I was having a nice dream and now it’s Douma, fuck I need to take a break from anime. Come on, wake up.”

The man paused upon hearing his name and tilted his head. You felt yourself backing up into a tree, and you slapped your face. He said something again, and you just cried out, “I DON’T WANT TO BE EATEN! WAAAAA” 

His smile this time fell, however he tilted his head the other way as if in thought. “English? Are you Foreign?” You froze looking up at him, giving him the clue that he was right. “Curious…You’re scared? Why?” He paused, placing a finger to his chin. “You obviously know me, you said my name…something about a dream and being eaten? Am I correct?”

You nodded, “Ye-yes….” You squeaked out. 

“Oh Dear me, rest assured, I don’t eat people.” He smiled tilting his head as he lied, “What is your name since you know mine.” You muttered your name trying to scoot more into the tree. “That’s a pretty name.” Douma reached out a hand, to help you up. “Come on, no reason to be afraid.”

You gulped, muttering to yourself, “Why couldn’t I have had a nightmare with Akaza or something…”

Douma froze, coming to a realization. “You know Akaza? You’re not dreaming Little Dove. You’re coming with me.” One second you were on the ground, the next you were over his shoulder causing you to yelp. 

“Shit shit shit, WAKE UP!” You screamed at yourself. 

Douma hummed, “Again~ you’re not dreaming. But if you’re going to continue screaming, I’m going to have to knock you out Dove.” 

However you couldn’t comprehend how this wasn’t a dream. How were you not sleeping, why wouldn’t you wake up? Did you lose control of your lucid dreaming?

With your continued panic, you blacked out from a hit to the neck. 

“This better be worth my time Douma, or I’m fucking knocking your head off.” You heard someone talk in Japanese, the only thing you made out was Douma’s name. 

Fuck, this was a hell of a long dream. A Painful one at that. You sat up rubbing the back of your neck. You opened your eyes glancing around, you were on a very plush and comfortable futon, however your feet and hands were tied up. You struggled against the ropes before you came to a realization, that this wasn’t a dream. This was real. 

“Akaza-Dono, I found a Foreign woman that knew my name and said your name. What else was I supposed to do?” The door that was opened a crack, opened up the rest of the way. You yelped trying to scoot back into the bed. “Oh good! You’re awake! I brought company, hope you don’t mind!” Douma said in English, almost beaming. 

Akaza walked in behind him and stared at you, “Who the fuck is this?” He said in English as well. 

Douma said your name, “I found her in the forest just outside of here. It was quite curious with her clothes and language. Saying something like “Why couldn’t I have dreamt of Akaza.’”

“Can’t blame her for preferring me over you.” Azaka kept an emotionless face. “Did I kill your father or brother or something?” Douma slightly pouted, not understanding why you would prefer Akaza over him. You shook your head to Akaza’s question. “Alright, better question. How the fuck do you know my name?” He questioned getting up in your face. 

Oh shit. Oh fuck. You bit your lip holding back asking them not to hand you over to Muzan. You didn’t need to dig a deeper hole. “I…I…” 

Akaza’s stare was unrelenting. “You…Spit it out. If you keep stuttering I’ll cut off a finger.”

You for some reason deadpanned, “You don’t attack women.”

Douma blinked, “she’s right, that was an empty threat.”

Akaza growled, swinging his hand out to punch Douma in the face.“SHUT UP.” You whimpered seeing Douma’s face caved in. Akaza grabbed you by the collar of your pokemon shirt, “How the fuck do you know that?! Who are you?!”

You closed your eyes, turning away from his tattooed face. You stated your name, “I’m twenty, I am from the year 2022, I study Psychology in college…”

Douma blinked again, “2022? It’s 1908…”

Akaza forced you to look him in the eyes. “Bull shit.”

You shook your head, “IT’S THE TRUTH! There is this manga, and show called Demon Slayer, and you two are characters in it! I was writing an Essay on Douma and the possibility of him having antisocial personality disorder for a class. Douma walked in on his parents murder suicide and commented on how they left a mess and wasn’t emotionally scarred and has a Cult. You don’t kill women, you fight for the thrill and the challenge of it, and killed Rengoku!”

Both demons froze. “Who is Rengoku?” Akaza questioned. 

Your eyes widened. Oh shit, either this was before the main story, or during and Mugen Train hadn’t happened yet…. “A…Hashira… from the show.” You quietly said. You looked to Douma trying to get an idea of when it was. “Who was the last Hashira you killed?” 

Douma tilted his head, “A Pretty female, Flower Breathing a few years back.”

“Kanae Kocho.”

“YES! Her!” 

Akaza frowned. “We should take her to Master Muzan…” 

Douma looked at him with wide eyes, “You think so?” 

Your eyes widened in horror. “PLEASE DON’T I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE!”

“You are from the supposed future, you know all about us…” Akaza stood up straight as you panicked. 

“Only Douma because I was writing the essay on him!” You lied. 

“Then why are you afraid of Master Muzan?” Douma questioned almost innocently. 

“You are both referring to him as Master, so that assumes he is above you in rank.” You gulped out your second lie. 

Fuck fuck fuck you were screwed. 

So Screwed if they find out you’re lying. 

“I…I promise I won’t say a thing. Let me stay in the cult here, and I’ll do anything.I’ll even act like everything is normal and that Douma doesn’t eat his followers to obtain their so-called Paradise, just please don’t take me to him…”

You didn’t even see Akaza’s hand move. But you felt a pain in your neck as you blacked out. 

~~~~~

You groaned, hearing voices again strictly in English. “You’re telling me this human girl is from the future…and knows about us?” You really needed to learn when to keep your mouth shut.

Douma hummed, “Well, she knows all about me, begged me to let her stay in my cult and she would ignore that I would eat followers if I didn’t bring her to you.”

Akaza crossed his arms, “She knew Douma killed a Flower Hashira, and that I didn’t kill women. Knew both of our names, and was frightened when I brought you up. She claims she only knows details about Douma. And her clothes are weird…”

“I see…” 

Douma bent down over you, “Wakey wakey Little Dove~” He went to tap your cheeks. 

Your eyes fluttered open recognizing Douma and the wooden staircases around you. Muzan’s headquarters, mansion or whatever it was. “Dream?” You whined as Douma gave you a smile. 

“We’ve been over this, you aren’t dreaming!~” he tilted his head in thought, “However I’m sure Enmu could help you with that.” Akaza grabbed you by your armpits and stood you up to face Muzan. 

You gulped almost falling back to your knees out of fear, “I…I…should I be bowing?” You questioned recalling the Lower Moon meeting in the anime with everyone being forced into a very low bow. 

The tall man glared down at you, “You are a guest, you don’t need to bow…yet.” His pinkish red eyes were extremely unnerving. “You two may leave.” Your eyes widened in fear, as the two demons disappeared at the sound of the Bewa. “Douma and Akaza filled me in on everything the three of you talked about. I only have one question, and I expect it to be answered.” He said glancing over your form taking in your outfit. “Blue Spider Lilies, where are they?”

You deadpanned. Of course, out of everything he would be fixated on that. But this was an anime, did he think you were from the future in general? Could you use it to your advantage? “I’ve never seen a Blue Spider Lily outside of Mythology books.” You noticed his glare sharpen, “I’m telling the truth! All I know about them is that they only bloom a few times during the year, and only in direct sunlight!   But I am unaware of their location. ” You lowered yourself into a bow this time hoping to make yourself small and believable. “Uh…SANZU RIVER! Maybe River Styx If I remember mythology correctly. I would assume somewhere around death.”

“Both of those Rivers are fictional.”

You wanted to scream that he was fictional. 

However, if you were really Itsukaied into the Demon Slayer Universe, you couldn’t afford to have a death wish. “To be fair, a lot of people think Demons are Fictional as well. Even from my time.” 

Muzan hummed at that. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Demons, us. Me.”

You kept your head down remembering Enmu with the Lower Moon meeting again.“I don’t know much about you all, I just knew a lot about Douma due to a research paper for a Psychology class.” Come on, weave a truth in with a lie. Don’t let on about Tanjiro. “Akaza kills a Flame Hashira, after Enmu is killed by him. And Before that you get rid of the Lower Moons with the exception of Enmu, and give him more blood. That is the only thing I know of. I know you were human once, and was sick, and eventually made yourself a demon to live longer, however now you’re looking for blue spider lilies to conquer the sun. But you’re having a hard time doing so.”

Muzan could feel the fear rolling off of you, in fact it was rather intoxicating. Intoxicating? He raised a hand down to your face, to pull you into a standing position, gently, before cutting your cheek, a stinging sensation hitting your face. His nostrils flared, “Marechi…”

FUCK NO, I’M A MARECHI!?

Muzan licked his thumbnail, humming at the taste. He felt himself relax a little and his eyes dilated from the taste of your blood. “Delicious, could keep you as a blood bag…but…something wrong with your blood…” You blinked looking at him, all fear disappeared, but worry clouded you. “You’re ill, dying.” Your eyes widened. “I also…taste me.”

All emotion left your face as you looked at him blinking. “What?”

“You are related to me somehow.” Your eyebrows furrowed, mirroring his face. “You won’t live past thirty because of it. Surprisingly you haven’t gone blind yet.”

Wait, you were ill, going to die, and most likely going to go blind. Shit you should have read more into the Manga. Past the Tsuzumi Mansion. More information is always in the manga as opposed to the Anime. 

“I will make you an offer, since you are of my blood. Become a Demon.” His eyes burrowed into yours. “If  not, I’ll just snap your neck and eat you now. Up to you. Be grateful I’m giving you a choice.” 

Your brain rushed a million miles a minute. Illness, blind, dying young. Related to Muzan somehow. Itsukaied into Demon Slayer. Demon or Die quicker. Survive. Survive. Survive. 

“I…I accept.” The words tumbled out didn’t even feel like your own. In fact you were hoping that him turning you into a demon would wake you up from this nightmare.

Muzan gave a smile, as he sliced a finger, “Good girl,” and purred. He squeezed out some blood and placed his finger against the cut on your cheek. “This is just to turn you for now, I intend to give you more blood to make you stronger. No daughter of mine will be weak.”

You frowned at that as you felt woozy, “Da-daughter?” Fire rushing throughout your veins. Feeling as if you were boiling from the inside. Your bones were being shattered and rebuilt. 

“Of course.” He said matter of factly as you passed out again, from the intense agony your body was going through.

Your head pounded. You felt like every cell of yours got ripped apart and built back up like lego bricks, but some bricks were just completely out of place. At the same time they also felt right, as if they were always a part of you.

“Beloved Daughter, you’re finally awake.” You heard someone coo. You felt yourself growl in response, “Oh, don’t worry, I brought you a meal.” 

Meal? You tilted your head, drooling at the thought. “You’re doing so well, almost fully transformed.” 

Almost transformed? Your brow furrowed. What was happening? 

“Here, I’ve brought you a Marechi.” He threw forward a dead body, still slightly warm. You drooled even more, smelling the fresh blood, and launched yourself at the body. Feeding ferociously. Feeling strength flow through you, and at the same time, you couldn’t finish the meal. 

You felt as if you were tired, sluggish. Drugged? High! That’s it! You remembered eating an edible once and feeling like this. You giggled at the feeling, rocking back and forth, you glanced back up at Muzan. Your slowed mind not taking in the threat. 

“I will name you Kibutsuji Rikka, my daughter.” He went to kneel down and placed his hand against your cheek. “Your only desire is to get stronger, and to guarantee my happiness and fulfill my dreams as a devoted daughter.”

You tilted your head up at him, as his words seemed to mold your mind. You looked down at your claws, before reaching into the body and pulling out the heart, offering it to Muzan, “Are you hungry Father?” 

Muzan took in the scent giving you an odd smile, “I’m not hungry, but feed my Daughter. Eat as much as you can, while you can. You need strength.” He pushed your hand back towards you. Watching you as you bit into the heart. “Don’t leave a single bone shard Sweetheart.”

[samwisethewitch]

How Find Safe Groups, Teachers, and Authors in the Pagan and Witch Community

In my last post, I talked about how to recognize if a group is a cult or is using cult techniques to control its members. As I pointed out in that post, cults can be based on any ideology -- including pagan spirituality or secular witchcraft.

So now that we know how to identify the bad teachers and groups, how do we find communities, teachers, and resources that are safe, healthy, and helpful?

Obviously, the first step is to compare any teacher, group, or author to Steven Hassan's BITE model (the four-part model of Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotional control used by cults to control members) and see if it matches up with their behavior -- anyone who employs the BITE model is not someone you want to involve in your spiritual journey.

Beyond that, here are some more things that you SHOULD look for in a teacher, author, or group:

1. A safe teacher, author, or group prioritizes the individuality, independence, and autonomy of every student, reader, or member.

A good teacher can share information and even their own personal experiences without telling students how to think or what to believe. The same goes for authors. Safe teachers and authors encourage students/readers to use their own judgement to decide if what is being taught is right for them.

Likewise, a healthy group may be founded on a common belief or practice, but group members recognize that each person's experiences within that framework are going to be different.

Be wary of groups with imbalanced power dynamics. If a group has a clear hierarchy (official or unofficial) with some members getting special treatment, ask why. Some pagan groups do perform ordination, and it's normal for students pursuing ordination to get extra training or coaching from leaders. But even then, they should not be treated as if they were superior to other group members.

Avoid groups that put pressure on new members to make public commitments, such as baptism, initiation, or ordination. Again, some groups do offer these, and that's perfectly fine. What isn't fine is new group members being pressured to make major commitments before they feel ready for them. In groups that offer these commitments, they should be available for students who feel ready for them, but should not be treated like the default or like they are mandatory.

2. Safe teachers, authors, and groups are honest and transparent about where they get their information.

If you're considering buying a book on witchcraft, paganism, or any other spiritual topic, perform this quick test before you do: flip to the back of the book and look for the "Resources" section. In a well-researched book, this section will be several pages long. In a really good book, it will include sources from non-pagan, non-witch authors, like historians and scientists. If the book doesn't have a resources section, or if the resources section is especially short, don't bother with it.

Likewise, when you're attending a class or group meeting, teachers and leaders should be open about where they got their information. If a teacher doesn't specify where their information is coming from, don't be afraid to ask them -- if they can't answer off the top of their head or they dodge the question, you may want to consider finding a different teacher.

Don't be afraid to ask teachers and group members for book recommendations! Most witches and pagans do a lot of reading, and will have no problem giving you a list of their favorite resources.

If you notice that a teacher or group is only using books from one or two authors, that's a red flag. This goes double if a teacher or author only uses or references books that they wrote themselves.

If a teacher or group relies heavily on information from a single author, do your own research into that author's legitimacy. For example, Silver Ravenwolf was a very popular Wiccan author in the '90s and early 2000s, and a lot of older witches still recommend her books to newcomers -- but a quick Google search will reveal that Ravenwolf is extremely controversial and has been accused of knowingly spreading misinformation in her books. If a teacher or group relies heavily on Ravenwolf or other authors that have been publicly exposed as frauds, you'll want to take what they teach with several grains of salt.

(For the record, the points in this post are based on the work of cult researchers like Steven Hassan, Margaret Singer, and Luna Lindsey. See? It's not that hard.)

3. Safe teachers, authors, and groups are open to analysis and criticism.

If you really want to know an author's integrity, look at how they respond to their negative reviews. Someone who accuses those who disagree with them of being ignorant and small-minded, or of "persecuting" them is not someone you want to rely on in your spiritual journey.

Likewise, if you're considering joining a group, pay attention to how they talk about ex-members. A healthy group is able to acknowledge that what they offer isn't for everyone, and doesn't take it personally when someone leaves.

A good teacher will lead class discussions that encourage questions from students. Avoid teachers who belittle students for asking "stupid" or "irrelevant" questions, or who refuse to answer questions on certain topics. You should also be wary of teachers who use canned answers that don't really address what was being asked.

4. A safe teacher, author, or group leader is qualified, approachable, and down to earth.

Determining someone's qualifications gets a little tricky in witchy and pagan communities, because many of these traditions don't have a formal clergy, and I have yet to see an accredited school offering degrees in magical theory. In some cases, the only qualification a person can have is being an experienced practitioner.

But there are some cases where you can -- and should! -- ask someone for their credentials. If someone uses a title like "High Priestess," "Elder," or "Reverend," make sure they were ordained by a legitimate religious organization. (Even if a group isn't legally classified as a church, you can still research them and their reputation.) If someone is teaching a formal system like Reiki, they should be certified to teach in that system. Any time someone claims to have a certain title, status, or certification, ask to see the paperwork to prove it.

A good teacher is accessible. If they charge for their services, the price should be reasonable for the service being offered. It's entirely appropriate for someone who is putting a lot of time and energy into teaching a class to expect payment, but it isn't appropriate to overcharge or exploit people.

A good teacher, author, or group leader is down to earth and approachable. They don't claim to be anything more or less than a human being looking to share their knowledge and experience with others.

Avoid anyone who claims to be an incarnated deity, angel, demon, or other non-human figure, or who claims to be the spouse, consort, or child of such a being. Avoid anyone who claims to be a reincarnated master or historical figure. Be very skeptical of anyone who claims to be on a unique divine mission or have been "chosen" by a higher power. These are all common tactics used by cult leaders to gain respect and worship from their followers.

If a teacher, author, or other authority figure asks to be "paid" for their services with sexual favors or says you have to have sex with them as a form of initiation, LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AND NEVER LOOK BACK. Any person who tries to coerce you into sex is an attempted rapist, and you need to get away from them as soon as possible, no matter what title or authority they have.

5. A safe author, teacher, or group believes in science and history and does not try to discredit them.

Contrary to popular belief, you can have faith in magic, divinity, or some other cosmic force and still believe in science. Paganism and witchcraft are no less compatible with science than any other spiritual practice.

Avoid anyone who tries to twist history to make themselves look more sympathetic. Any author, teacher, or group who talks about "the Burning Times" or claims that there was a unified "witchcraft cult" in ancient Europe is either a liar or willfully ignorant. These things never happened. We know they never happened because there is no historical evidence to support them and a lot of historical evidence that disproves them.

Likewise, pseudoscience should not be taught as fact. You may hear people talk about how your emotions vibrate at different frequencies which have the power to positively or negatively affect your life -- what they won't tell you is that these ideas come from a book about political theory (Power vs. Force by David R. Hawkins) and have no scientific evidence to support them. Or, you may hear people say that psychoactive medications block your psychic abilities -- how can this be true, when most medications are derived from the same plants and herbs that witches have been using for healing magic for centuries? Most of these conspiracy theories have little to no backing in the scientific or witchcraft communities, and they have no place in a spiritual learning environment.

Most importantly: If YOU feel uncomfortable, then it is not the right group for YOU.

A group doesn't have to be cultish or unhealthy to be a bad fit for you and your spiritual path. Ultimately, both witchcraft and paganism are highly intuitive, and you will have to do what feels right for you.

[wuxiaphoenix]

Book Review: On the Ocean

On the Ocean: the Mediterranean and the Atlantic from prehistory to AD 1500, by Barry Cunliffe. Five out of five stars, because this book is Exactly What It Says On The Tin. A history written to incorporate as much as possible from archaeology, history, and linguistics,

with the goal of summing up what people have thought about those two oceans and how they’ve sailed them ever since modern humans set foot on their shores.

I was gifted this book last year, and have been reading it in small bits at a time since; often at breakfast. That may be one of the best ways to read it, because this is a very dense book, info-wise. (I also look forward to searching for several of its sources.)

I recc’ this for both worldbuilding and history buffs. Anyone who has an interest in the history of the ancient Near East and greater Europe will find a different point of view here than your classic history course. No long lists of who ruled where and went to war when, but a focus on the cargoes, trade routes, shipbuilding, and what people actually thought about the sea in any given time and place.

Though it does cover some of who ruled and invaded where, with surprising details. My high school history courses taught that the Roman Empire was overrun by the Goths, Ostragoths, Vandals, and the like; they never mentioned that the Vandals went on to take over most of North Africa.

(Come to think, high school history kind of skipped over the fact that the Roman Empire held significant parts of Africa, and teachers and texts alike definitely never mentioned that Egypt was also part of the Empire, and shipped in the grain to keep Rome alive. HS mentioned the whole “bread and circuses” yet never explained about the bread part. Grr. Note this, people. You want your kids taught history, do not count on a school to do it.)

For worldbuilding, this is also awesome, because you can find information on trade and how people would move around over several millennia. You can follow how rivers and currents keep certain trade routes in operation pretty much constantly, and also how advances in shipbuilding and knowledge of other places would open up new routes. Plus, the writing style is clear and concise; when you get through a section you have a solid sense of who, what, where, and why. Which is essential to building a solid world.

Also, there are gems like this one on p. 340, talking about the Greek view of where-things-were in the first century BC.

“Geography is a compilation stitched together largely from the work of others by an author who had never travelled further west than Italy and who held firmly fixed ideas about the order of the world which he did not allow to be upset by mere evidence.”

...You gotta love historian snark.

All told, great book, and I definitely plan to get the author’s other books over time!

[anxiouslyfred]

Star of Wonder

Summary: Virgil’s parents have stifled his questions, and his chances to follow the star to his soulmate with their strict Christian doctrine. That doesn’t stop him from plotting his escape, nor his soulmate from deciding to find him instead.

Warnings: overly strict parents

/\/\

“As you will see in your history books, the common belief among Christians is that the stars leading us to our soulmates originated from the birth of Jesus. While many historians disagree with this, due to mentions of soulmates prior to when those stories were first written down, and the lack of archaeological evidence for Jesus's birth being heralded in the way the Bible describes it, many people do follow this belief.” Virgil's teacher had explained in their class. Another student had asked about the story their parents had used to describe soulmates and he was once again questioning everything his evangelical family insisted was true, despite the evidence against them.

So far he'd remained quiet, avoiding the scolding that any questions to his parents understanding of the Bible or Christianity brought, but this had a major question rattling around his mind that he needed to ask. “Mrs Williams showed us the cave paintings showing people following stars for their soulmates today. Do you think the Wise Men were hoping to find their soulmates when they followed it to Jesus? Was that who their gifts were actually for?” He asked that evening when they'd been discussing his classes from the day.

His Dad always had strong views about what he should or shouldn't learn and had often visited the school to demand something was removed or not taught to his son. Virgil could only thank his determined head teacher for refusing to make special accommodations, but it did lead to interrogations over what the classes he took taught him.

Virgil shivered as a frozen solid glared turned to him after the question. “Are you insinuating there could be anything unpure about the immaculate birth? That anyone favoured in the Bible could have such twisted selfish reasons to try and find the Saviour?” His father demanded, voice raising with every word.

The lecture and telling off Virgil received after that lasted a full hour, and ended up with none of their family properly finishing their meal. If he had been reluctant to share his thoughts about religion or soulmates to his family before then, Virgil was never going to bring it up now.

That didn't stop his parents trying to act like the closest family there ever was, but not even strangers on the street could be fooled to believe it. Sickly sweet words of “You never open up to us. We're here and we'll accept the things you share with us” never did pair well when moments later in the exact same tone the words would become “I don't care that you haven't a soulmate, I care that you're refusing to say a thing about it. Just accept it and let us arrange a marriage for you to a nice Christian girl in our Church. I'm sure Gertrude said her daughter hasn't seen a star yet.”

Virgil did everything he could to avoid Gertrude in the Church after that. Her daughter was barely 10 and far too young for the star to have appeared for her; Never mind that he did have a star, hovering by the sunset. He did try to at least talk to the children in the Church, and let them know that asking questions was okay, but usually better to be directed to people who are open to them. It was the least he could do to hopefully give them a better time of it than he had with his parents.

He went through the actions of following their wishes, applying to the local colleges and doing the volunteering they insisted the family had to do, quietly messaging online forums for support and help. Virgil was doing everything he could to get his route out of the town and chance to follow his star as soon as college began. He never accepted the place his parents thought, but sent his acceptance letter off to the college two states to the west and had packed his suitcase already. As soon as he heard when move in day would be for the dormitories Virgil was going to be on a train there. His parents couldn't then try to track him down using the car they'd given him only to claim use of it if ever they were attending separate functions.

There was no certainty about where the star was leading him. Whomever his soulmate was lived too far away so the star remained high high in the sky but Virgil hoped it would lower at least somewhat when he got further away from his home town.

The star moving towards him and getting noticeably lower each day after school finished for the summer was something Virgil realised with dread. His parents had very clear views over who he should end up with, completely opposite to the people that had attracted Virgil before. Whomever his soulmate was though now seemed to be heading in his direction and rapidly.

Virgil kept an eye on it, watching from his bedroom window, bringing cloud gazing into the activities they'd use to occupy the kids in the playscheme, anything else he could think of to watch the stars movement and try to guess when they'd arrive.

The suitcase was completely packed with all the last things he'd been keeping out of it when the star was level with the roofs of the houses. Virgil didn't know who his soulmate was, didn't have a clue what their relationship would be when they arrived, but if they were going to come seek him out, he was taking any chance at escape they offered.

He was watching from his window that night, almost at midnight, just wondering if the star was going to stop moving and rest for the night or if he'd be meeting his Soulmate that night. The car that turned down the road looked worse for wear but not half so much as the person that jumped out of it as soon as they drew level with his house. The car hadn't even stopped when that happened, but he didn't have time to stop and think about that.

Virgil while mentally relieved that his soulmate was at least masculine framed knew that if they revealed themself to be his soulmate, especially after knocking on the door in the middle of the night, well catastrophic would be putting it lightly. He was grabbing his suitcase, hurrying downstairs as quietly as possible and still didn't manage to open the door before the first knock had sounded.

Looking at the person, Virgil covered their mouth instantly, hearing movement upstairs. “Sorry, I knocked something. Just wanted a glass of water to see if it'll help my mind settle. I think I can been a racoon in the trash so I'll chase it off while I'm down here.” He called upstairs, not loud enough to wake his parents, but enough that they'd hear if one had woken up.

A glance down the street showed another door getting knocked on by the driver of the car so Virgil shoved his case out of the door. “I'm Virgil, your soulmate if the star on my head doesn't give that away. Worst type of Christians up there so lets get this in the car and figure out what can happen then. If you'd prefer to just dump me in a motel somewhere close to you it would be better than here.” He hissed out, ignoring that his hand was now getting licked until he had the door pulled shut.

“I'm Remus, pretty one. You seriously running away with me in the middle of the night? Have you heard some of the most brilliant stories that come from people doing that?” His soulmate leant into his space. “You smell good, but I still can't decide what pronouns to use for you. I'm he/him, and so's Ro-bro. You know who he's going to be waking up?”

The wave towards the car at the end of the road had Virgil snort, “The pretentious git leading the choir. I try my best not to know him. I've stuck with he/him pronouns so far, but if that changes I'll let you know.”

“Are we really running, or can me and Ro have a sleep before you want to get away? Either works cause crashes are great fun to get out of and you're more likely to get into them when driving tired.” Remus asked, taking the suitcase and beginning to head back down the road.

“I'm not gonna change your plans. Just tell me what you're intending and I'll see if I can help, like by pointing out there's a fully furnished but currently empty house 2 blocks away. Might be worth it to crash there tonight.” Virgil had checked the area once he saw the star getting close to his town. Breaking into places would cause him a heck of a lot of anxiety over what would happen if they got caught but facing a screaming fit from his parents was worse.

Remus didn't care though, already loading the car and rushing over to Ro. “My soulmate wants us to break into a place a bit away so I'm stealing the car. Either get your soulmate to let you stay over or come find us. I'll park as close in front of the place as Vi-vi lets me.”

Now they were a bit closer Virgil could see Remus was identical to Ro. It felt sort of like he was high on sleep deprivation and meeting his soulmate, all his anxiety muffled through a fog of knowing change had arrived and he wouldn't have to pander to his parents religion anymore.

This was just the start of an adventure but he could keep the star close by now.

[macademmia]

I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Janus/Patton, Moceit

Summary: Janus Dean did not mean to start dating Patton Hart for political gain, and he definitely did not mean to fall in love with him. 

(Or the fake dating high school AU that nobody asked for but everyone needed.)

Based on this prompt by the incredible @kawaiikat54

Warnings: cursing, homophobia(nothing violent) 

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Everybody loves Patton Hart. He’s one of those rare popular kids who got their popularity by being a great person. Patton knows everyone’s first and last name and he’s in almost every club. He’s every teacher’s favorite student and every girl’s crush. He never curses and is nice to everyone. He’ll help you with your homework and listen to your problems. He gives hugs like it's nothing. Patton Hart thinks life is a fairy tale. 

Jason Dean absolutely despises Patton Hart. Everything in Patton’s life is perfect and everything he can get everything he’s ever wanted just by showing up. Janus has to fight for what he wants every step of the way. Janus is not trusted easily like Patton. Janus has a resting bitch face, whereas Patton’s face naturally falls into a smile. Janus is the night of Patton's day. 

For most of high school, Janus has been fine ignoring Patton. They never got in each other’s way, and Janus and his friend Ethan bonded over laughing at him. Janus stayed in his lane and Patton stayed in his that’s our it’s always been. 

Today everything changed. Today Patton Hart entered the race for student body president. Janus has spent the past month campaigning and building up goodwill, but it’s all pointless. Voters will take one look at the name Patton Hart and check the box next to his name. Patton doesn’t even have to captain. Just like always, Patton wins just by showing up. 

It’s infuriating, and it means that Janus will have to fight dirty. 

When the bell for lunch rings, Janus exits through the backdoor of the courtyard. It’s empty like it always is. 

Across the courtyard, his friend Ethan is leaning against the hard brick wall with a cigarette in one hand, and a flask in the other.

“‘Sup Janus.” 

“Hello, Ethan, did you hear the news?”

“That Hart’s running for president? Yeah.”

“What do you think we should do about it?” 

“Probably something he wouldn’t like,” Ethan says, and Janus laughs.

“What did you have in mind? Stage a scandal? Hack his email? Push him down a flight of stairs?” Janus was pretty partial to the last one. 

“Fun, but no. To win this race you’re going to have to go big or go home.”

That doesn’t sound good, especially coming from Ethan. 

“What do you mean, go big or go home?” 

“You need to pretend to date Patton Hart.” 

Janus laughed, “Absolutely not.” 

Ethan growled at him, “Did I fucking stutter Dean?”

Janus glared at him, “Did I? I’m not doing that.”

Ethan did not back down, “Take a second to think about it before you get all your feather ruffled. If you pretend to date Patton, you will get everything. You will find out what’s under his everything is a perfect persona. You’ll have a confession that he’s gay. If you do it you’re practically guaranteed to win the race.”

Janus pauses, “You have a point. I’ll think about it. You happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a week and Janus has thought of a way to talk to Patton, let alone ask him out. Hell, despite what Ethan says, he doesn’t even know if Patton is gay, bi, or pan at all. 

Despite the fact that if he is in fact, not straight, Patton is closeted, Ethan has been texting him more and more every day, and at this point, Janus might just flat out ask Patton out just to get him to shut up. 

As if on cue, Janus’ phone buzzes with a text. He doesn’t have to check who it is. He groans and shuts his phone off. History class is about to begin anyways. 

In the time that he’s read the text and dumped his phone into his bag, Patton Hart has somehow managed to sneak up on him. 

“Everything ok?” Patton asks, and there’s genuine concern in his voice. It drives Janus crazy. Through his glasses, Janus can see the concern and care in his big brown eyes, and it’s so powerful that he almost has to take a step back. 

Janus looks away from Patton, “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” 

Patton just shrugs, “You just seemed stressed.” 

“Oh well, thank you for your concern but I have everything under control,” Janus says, and why is it so hard for him to talk to Patton. Each word sounds awkward and unsure and it’s a complete 180 from the smooth and suave tone he usually uses.

Before the conversation can get any more awkward, the bell rings. 

“Glad to hear it,” Patton says. 

Janus just nodded and walked inside the classroom. 

Within the next few minutes, kids start filing in and sitting in their usual spots. Patton is sitting in the front predictably and Janus is watching him from the third row.  

Once all the students have filed into the dilapidated classroom their teacher, Mr. Rivers walks up to the front of the class. 

“All right everybody!” He says. “So today I thought we could switch things up a bit, and instead of me teaching you something like we normally do, you could teach your classmates and me something?” 

The class stares at him blankly, but Mr. Rivers doesn’t seem to notice their lack of a reaction. 

“So I decided that you all, with the help of a partner, will present on a series of influential people throughout history who all share one trait in common. It’s opened ended, so the thing all your people have in common can be creative! Hopefully y’all can have fun with this! Today you are going to have all of this class period to talk with your partner and get started, the project will be due next week. Any questions?” 

Only one girl raises her hand, and Mr. Rivers calls on her enthusiastically, “Can we choose our Partners?” She says. 

“Nope! I’m going to be picking partners for you all, it’s great to work with new people.” He replies cheerfully. 

A low groan rumbles through the classroom, but Mr. Rivers doesn’t comment on it.

“Alright so first up is Will Solace and Nico De Angelo.” 

The teacher keeps on listening names until finally Janus’ name was called,

“...and finally we have Patton Hart and Janus Hart.”

Well, that was one way to get the plan going. At least he’d have something to report to Ethan. 

Janus was not ready when Patton came bounding towards his Desk, with brown curls bouncing in time with his steps.

Janus was pretty sure he could stare at Patton and still not have counted every one of his freckles, the kid had so many. 

“Hey, Janus!” Patton was at his desk.

“Hi, Patton.” 

“So what do you wanna do? I know a lot of the other kids are doing soldiers from the same wars and stuff so we could do that if you’d like” 

“Well,” Janus mock whispers, “I was thinking we could spice things up a little bit, maybe do some queer people throughout history, freak the class out about it.” Janus was acting nonchalant but on the inside he was nervous; Patton’s reaction could change this entire election. 

Patton’s face seemed to light up even more if that was even possible. “That sounds awesome! There are so many people throughout history and no one even knows about it! Like did you know historians think Abraham Lincoln might have been gay? Or Eleanor Roosevelt, they found letters from her to a female lover or Alan Turing, he was essential in the liberation of Europe from Nazi Germany, and he was gay!” 

Janus raises an eyebrow, “Wow Patton you sure do know a lot.” 

Patton freezes and then rushes to defend himself, “Oh yeah I just wanted to support my LGBTQ friends by learning about their history! I just want to be a good ally.” Patton smiles but Janus can tell he’s nervous.

Yep, Janus thinks, totally just an ally. 

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Two weird things happen next week. Janus and Patton get an A on their assignment and Patton start sitting at Janus’ table. Janus has no clue why; Patton could sit at any table in the entire cafeteria and be welcomed as an honored guest. The first week Patton sits at Janus’ table, Janus doesn’t talk to all. He has his recorder on sure, but he’s too confused to respond. 

Patton talks about everything. He talks about frogs and theater and the stars. He talks about his family and his favorite colors. 

It should drive Janus crazy, but it doesn’t. 

Listening to Patton talk becomes one of the best parts of his day. 

When Janus finally starts throwing in a sarcastic comment here and there, Patton’s smile could outshine the sun. 

Janus ignores the fact that his heart speeds up more than it should when he’s around Patton.

With every recording he sends to Ethan, his guilt grows and grows. Janus doesn’t know how to handle the guilt, and he definitely doesn’t know how to deal with how he feels about Patton.

He can’t stop thinking about Patton, even when they’re not at lunch together. He can’t stop thinking about the way Patton’s eyebrows crinkle together when he laughs or how he gives Janus his full attention when he talks. He doesn’t want to think about the swell of anger in his gut every time someone so much as looks bad in Patton’s direction. 

Today though, today something is wrong with Patton. 

He won’t make eye contact with Janus, and he’s hunched in on himself. His smile is absent, and he won’t stop twisting his fingers. 

This isn’t how Patton’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be joyful and happy. But that’s not right, is it? Janus has always thought of Patton as a positivity god, above it all. Now, as Patton fidgets in front of him, Janus is reminded of how undeniably human Patton is. 

Patton’s voice is so low that Janus isn’t sure if I heard you, “Do I bother you?” 

Janus blinks. He never thought someone like Patton would ask him questions like that. 

“Of course not,” Janus says, and it’s the truth. He loves being around Patton. He loves hearing him talk, he loves the fact that he’s three inches taller than Patton, he loves how Patton makes him feel better about himself when Patton is around. Janus wants to find whoever made Patton believe that he was a bother and give them a black eye. Or two. 

Patton still remains hunched in on himself, “It’s ok Janus, I know you’re just being sarcastic.” 

“Patton,” Janus says, “Look at me,” He waits until Patton reluctantly meets his gaze, “You’re not a bother, in fact, sitting here with you at lunch is the highlight of my day.” 

Patton lets out a surprised o with his mouth, and Janus isn’t sure whether or not he wants to wrap Patton in a thousand blankets or hunt down everyone who ever hurt him. 

Patton is making Janus soft, but he can’t find himself to care. 

Next Tuesday, Patton comes up to his table like he’s about to go to war. His shoulders are tensed and his eyebrows are furrowed. His backpack straps are pulled as tight as possible and he’s marching towards Janus’ table. 

“I’m gay. And I wanted to tell you because you’re the first person in my life who doesn’t care about who I am or what I can do for you and I really hope that’s okay” Patton says, and he’s shaking a little. 

Janus is struck by how brave Patton is. Janus has never had the guts to come out, not like this, and here Patton is, exposing himself completely. Janus can see the fear in his eyes, but Patton doesn’t let it stop him. 

“I knew you weren’t just an ally.” 

Patton twirls the bracelet on his left wrist, “Am I really that obvious?” 

Janus shakes his head, “Nah, it just takes one to one.” Janus watches as the confusion on Patton’s eyes morphs into realization. 

“Oh,” Patton says. 

“Yeah” Janus replies. 

Patton smiles at him and starts talking about frogs. 

Janus’ phone feels heavier with the recording of Patton coming out. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Janus sends the recording of Patton’s coming he should feel good. He did it, that tape is enough to ruin Patton’s popularity for the rest of high school. He won. 

But he doesn’t feel good. In fact, he’s never felt worse. He’s going to get everything he ever wanted and he hates it. 

He can’t keep doing this to Patton, he can’t keep pretending to be the friend Patton so desperately needs when his moral compass is practically pointed towards Antarctica. 

He can’t take back the damage he did to Patton, but maybe he can stop pushing the knife deeper. 

He picks up his phone and texts Ethan.

Janus Dean, 7:30 pm: we’re done, I’m not going to pretend to date Patton anymore, I’m not going to send you recordings anymore. 

Ethan doesn’t even bother texting him back, He just calls Janus a few seconds after he receives the text. 

Janus picks up his phone and takes a deep breath. He has a feeling he’ll need it. 

“What the fuck Dean?” 

“Hello to you too Ethan,” Janus says, hoping the sarcasm will hide the panic.

“Don’t you fucking dare ‘Hello Ethan’ me.” Ethan snarls, “A deal is a deal, you can’t just pull out like this.” 

“Why do you care anyway? You’re not running for student body president, I am!” 

“Aw, you’re cute Dean.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean.” Janus snaps.

“You think I give a shit about your little election? Are you crazy? I could care less, no this was all about Patton.” 

“What do you have against him?” 

A manic laughed echoed through the phone, “I want to see that dumb smile fall right off his moronic face.” 

“That’s it? You’re going to ruin his life because you’re feeling petty?” Janus knows Ethan isn’t the most ethical person out there but this is low even for him. 

Ethan doesn’t seem to care, “Now you’re getting it, JDelightful.” 

Fuck, He underestimated how crazy Ethan could be. 

Janus could hear Ethan smiling through the phone, “You’re going to regret saying no to me.” He said, and with that, the line went dead.  

It was all over. Patton, the one person who ever cared about Janus was going to leave. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

However, he did still have a few hours left. And he had nothing else to lose.

Janus Dean,  7:41 pm: Can we hang out? 

Patton Hart, 7:41 pm: Sure! When and where? 

Janus Dean, 7:42 pm: I know this awesome hidden park we could check out, I can pick you up, I’ll be there in 10. 

Patton Hart, 7:42 pm: awesome!!! :D

Janus was going to lose Patton. There was no use of denying it. 

That wasn’t going to stop him from taking every second he could get and treasuring it forever.

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Patton is sitting on the front steps of his house when Janus’ blank car swings around the block. 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Janus deadpans

“Hello to you too snake boy,” Patton says, matching Janus’ monotone. 

“Snake boy? Really? Is that the best you could come up with Golden Boy.” 

“Takes one to know one Janus,” Patton says. Is he talking about what Janus said when Patton comes out? Janus hopes he’s not blushing. 

“Touché, Patton,” Janus says, and Patton grins at him. Janus can’t stop staring at his lips.

Stop looking at him like that, you’re never going to be his anything. 

Janus ignores his inner monologue. 

Patton shuffles his playlist and Don’t Stop Believing comes on. 

“Oh my god Patton, you are such a dad.” Janus groans, but Patton pretends not to hear him 

“Don’t stop believing,” Patton sings, “Hold on to that feeling” Patton belts the last song and it’s so terrible, but it’s so Patton and Janus falls just a little bit harder. 

Patton is giving him the look, the do what I say or I’ll be sad look. Janus sighs.

“Hold on to that feeling.” Janus sings, and Patton lets out a whoop, and Janus starts signing louder, “Street light people, waiting just to find emotion.” 

“Living just to find emotion!” Patton shouts, and Janus belts right along with him. 

Another song comes on, and then another, and suddenly Patton and Janus have screamed themselves hoarse singing 80s songs.

By the time they’ve gone through six songs, the sky is falling down, and Patton’s windshield wipers are swiping in overtime. 

When they pull up to the park, it’s pouring. There are no cars in the parking lot and Janus can barely see five feet in front of him. 

Patton frowns, “Aw man, it’s raining. I guess we’ll just have to come back later.” 

Janus freezes. There is no later. It is literally now or never.

“No,” Janus says.

“No?” Patton says in surprise. 

“It’s just water, it can’t stop us from having fun,” Janus says. This is it. If Patton says no Janus doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

“Okay,” Patton says, giving Janus a mischievous smile. 

Janus unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the safety of the car in the pouring rain. Within the first three seconds of being outside, Janus is drenched from head to toe. He doesn’t notice. 

“Hey,” Patton says. Just like Janus, Patton is soaked. His cardigan is leaking, and his glasses are foggy. His curls have fallen flat and raindrops hang on his bangs. 

“Hi,” Janus replies, and this is so absurd. He’s standing outside alone with Patton Hart in an abandoned park in the rain, just before his life is about to fall apart. 

Janus wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Dance with me,” Janus hears himself saying. 

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.” 

Janus walks over to Patton and says, “Ok so first I’m gonna put my arms around your shoulders like this,” Slowly, in case Patton wants to pull away Janus puts his arms on top of Patton’s shoulders. 

“What’s next?” Patton asks. 

“Put your arms on my waist,” Janus says. He can feel Patton hesitate and then tentatively wrap his arms around his middle. The feeling of Patton’s skin on his is electrifying. 

Patton smiles, “Now what?” 

“Now we just move,” Janus says simply and he follows Patton’s movements. For a beginner, Patton is a surprisingly good dancer.

The two dance under the stars to the melody of the rain. 

Neither of them says anything, but Patton’s face is so close to his and his lips are even closer. 

It takes all the willpower Janus has to not kiss Patton then and there. 

“Hey, Patton?”

“Yeah, Janus?” 

The butterflies in Janus’ stomach are more like raging pigeons. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but, I think now is the right time,” Janus takes a deep breath and Patton gives him an encouraging look. 

“I like you. I really like you, Patton. I’ve liked you ever since you sat down at my table and started to talk about frogs. I thought it was just a friend thing, but it’s not. Because the truth is Patton, I want to be with you, all the time. I want to kiss you and I want to call you my boyfriend.” Patton is silent.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I totally get it. I’ll leave you alone. I won’t push it, I promise. I don’t want it to be weird I just want you to be ha-“ 

Janus is cut off by Patton grabbing his collar, and pulling him down to his level for a kiss. 

Patton is kissing him. Patton is Kissing Him. Holy shit. This is better than anything Janus could have imagined. Patton’s lips are soft against his chapped ones. They’re warm despite the pouring rain. Patton wraps his arms around Janus’s neck to keep himself steady, and Janus brushes Patton’s bangs away from his eyes. 

When Patton finally pulls away, there’s fire in his eyes. 

“You absolute idiot,” Patton says, taking a second to breathe, “how could you think, even for a second, that I wouldn’t like you.”

Janus laughs and doesn’t stop looking at Patton, “I guess I’m just dumber than I thought.”

Patton nods vigorously in agreement, “understatement of the century, snake boy.”

Patton goes in for another kiss, and Janus doesn’t want this night to ever end.

Fuck Ethan.

Fuck the election.

Fuck other people.

Janus just wants to stay with Patton forever.

When he gets back from his date with Patton, Janus is so happy, all he wants to do is jump and scream with joy. He’s never felt more himself around another person. He feels so alive when he’s with Patton that he never wants to stop. 

He drops his bag down on the floor of his bedroom and jumps on his bed. He’s smiling so hard it hurts but he doesn’t want to stop. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t used those muscles in years. 

He grabs his phone, pops his earbuds in, and shuffles the playlist Patton made for him. He’ll never get over the small act of Patton making a playlist for him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over Patton. He loves the way Patton lights up when he talks about frogs. He adores how Patton keeps smiling day after day, he’s stronger than anyone will ever know. He loves the way Patton shoves his glasses up his nose when he’s nervous. He loves how when he talks Patton just listens and Janus somehow knows that Patton understands. He loves how good Patton is. He loves how he tastes like cinnamon and rainy days.  Being with Patton is like seeing this sun after years of being stuck underground, Janus will never get sick of his light. 

After he finds the playlist he lays down and closes his eyes, and just listens to the music. He breathes in and out and it’s almost like Patton is right there next to him. 

About 15 minutes later Janus’ phone buzzes, and he grabs it excitedly, hoping Patton is sending him a goodnight text. 

His mood plummets when he sees who really texted him. Ethan. This can’t be good. Time has run out. 

When the messages app opens there are two unread messages. 

The first one is a link to an Instagram post made by Ethan. The second one reads “You can’t get rid of me that easy.” 

When Janus clicked on the post, it was a list of screenshots. Texts between Ethan and Janus. Texts between Patton and Janus. Janus’ audio recordings. And they spilled everything 

The whole school knew that Janus had got together Patton for political power. The whole school knew that Janus had tricked Patton. The whole school knew that Patton fell for it. 

Fuck, the whole school knew Patton was gay. Janus let Patton get outed. Patton, who shared his secret with Janus, was now left to vultures known as teenagers. Patton, who was still figuring himself out, was forced out of the closet in the worst possible way. Patton who thought someone finally loved him for who he was and not what he could do, was just publicly used for political gain

He would never get to choose how to say it. He would never get to hug his friends when he invited them to their favorite diner and told them over milkshakes about who he was. He’ll never get to slowly start to wear rainbow pins on his pack packs. He would never get to walk into a GSA and see the happy surprise on everyone’s faces. He would never get to be ready. 

And it was all Janus’ fault. 

He has to call Patton, and he has to do it now. 

When he dials Patton’s number it rings out. He dials again, the same thing. Again and again. Every time Patton doesn’t pick up Janus breaks more and more. 

“Fuck!” He shouts, and his voice cracks. He can feel the tears start to come and his throat start to close up. He ruined the one good thing in his life. He should have seen this coming. His happiness was never meant to last.

His only consolation is that tomorrow is a Saturday, so he doesn’t have to put on a brave face so anyone. He won’t have to face Ethan in the halls. He won’t have to see the disgust and disappointment in Patton’s face. 

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

————————————————

Janus spends the entire weekend locked in his room. He doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed. The loss of Patton is crushing him so hard he can barely breathe. He deletes his Instagram, and turns off messaging notifications. He listens to Patton’s playlist over and over and over again, just to feel like he’s with Patton again. It doesn’t work.

He doesn’t know how he can face school on Monday. He knows he won’t get in any trouble, the student body is so homophobic that they’d probably congratulate him. The school administrators will call it an out of school affair and turn their heads the other way. Janus might as well start saying he’s student body president now. 

No, what he can’t handle is seeing Patton in the hallways, robbed of his beautiful smile. Seeing Patton avoid his gaze and stop waving to people in the halls. Watching all the terrible people at Sanders high go in for the kill. He can’t watch, knowing it’s all his fault.

The worst part is he will be congratulated for doing this. He will get his dream. Students will be proud of him, teachers will pretend they didn’t say anything, Ethan won’t get suspended. Patton could fall apart and no one would notice. 

The world isn’t fair, Janus always knew Patton would have to learn that. He didn’t want Patton to learn it like this. 

No one should. 

——————

When Janus’ first alarm goes off on Monday morning he shuts it off instantly. The last thing he wants to do is get up. He does the same thing with the second one. He could fake a sick day, right? When the third alarm rolls around, he counts to three and forces himself to get up. No matter how bad he’s feeling, he cannot show weakness. Not now, and not ever. 

He rolls out of bed and puts on clothes robotically. He’s barely aware of what he’s wearing, but it’s fine. Everything is fine. 

He laces up his docs and throws his books in his backpack. He unplugs his phone then brushes his teeth. He grabs his bag and then heads downstairs. 

He pours himself a mug of scalding black coffee. He downs it steaming hot. He likes the way the bitter liquid burns as it goes down his throat. Never let it be said that he couldn’t be edgy. He doesn’t have anything else for breakfast, and he can hear Patton chiding him in his head. 

Janus shakes his head, puts his mug in the sink, and heads out the door. 

When he gets to his car he pauses. He means to turn the key to ignite it. All he can think about is Friday night when Patton and Janus ran back to Janus’ car in the pouring pain and held hands while Janus drove him home. Patton kissed him goodbye. 

Suddenly, Janus’ lips feel cold. 

He takes a deep breath and turns the key. He can’t think about that. Not anymore. He has to stay strong because if he starts to cry, he’s not sure he’ll ever stop. 

When he gets to school he parks his car in his spot. He keeps telling himself the same thing: Don't let anyone know you’re bothered, especially not Ethan.

He hesitates for a few seconds before walking in the school building. He will not let his fear control him. He can do this. He owes it to Patton. 

In the halls, he can hear the students whispering about him. He hears his name and Patton’s name and he hears the word, queer. The students whisper the word gay like it’s a dirty secret they shouldn’t know. It makes Janus’ blood boil but he has to keep walking. 

He keeps looking for Patton in the halls, but he can’t find him anywhere. Patton always gets to school early to say hi to everyone. He’s at school every morning at 7:50 by his locker. Why isn’t he there?

Because you used him for selfish reasons and let him get outed, idiot, he thinks.

For the rest of the day, Janus’ classes go in one ear and out the other. It’s a Monday so he doesn’t have any classes with Patton, but he still can’t pay attention. He can feel the states of other students during class and it is unbearable. Patton made school enjoyable and now that he’s gone it’s a nightmare. 

During lunch, his food tastes like cardboard and he sits alone. He doesn’t know where Patton is but he’s not at their-his table. He forces the sandwich down and opts to hide in the library for the rest of lunch. 

At the end of the day Janus instinctively starts walking to his car in the parking lot. It’s in the fifth row. When he gets to the third bow he stops walking. Patton’s car is in the third row. He can deny it all he wants but Janus knows that if he doesn’t talk to Patton now he never will. 

He can’t let Patton go, not now, not ever. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Patton sees him, Janus can already tell he's been crying. His eyes are red and puffy and he won’t stop rubbing at him.

He’s about to get in his car when Janus shouts, “Patton wait!” 

Patton whips around, and when his eyes meet Janus’, Janus resists the urge to take a step back. The pain in Patton’s brown eyes is overwhelming. 

“What do you want, Janus?” Patton snaps. His voice is hard and cold, so unlike the typical warmth, Patton brings to every conversation. 

Janus avoids Patton’s eyes, “I wanted to apologize, I never meant to hurt you and,” Janus looks for the right words, but nothing seems to work, “I’m so so sorry.” 

“You dated me to help you win an election, Janus, how did you not mean to hurt me? The whole idea was to hurt me!” Patton says. He’s shaking. 

Janus can’t think of anything to say, so Patton just keeps going.

“I finally thought I found someone who wanted me for who I am! No! Everyone just wants me for what I can give them, popularity, friendship, support, and I thought you were different! I opened myself up to you and you spilled my secrets to the world!” 

Janus closes his eyes. “Patton…” He whispers, and he reaches out for Patton’s hand. 

Patton jerks back violently as if he has just been burned. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Patton’s fists are clenched at his side and Janus wonders if he’s going to start swinging them. 

He’d deserve it, but Janus just won’t stop pushing. He loves Patton too much to let go. 

“Patton please.” Janus says. He has never been a beggar but he is willing to fall down at Patton’s feet just to see that warm smile directed at him one more time. He would walk through hell and hack just to make Patton happy again. 

“You know what Janus? I could forgive the whole, I played with your emotions to win a dumb high school election thing.” Patton says, “I could forgive how I gave you my heart and you crushed it beneath your heel. But you didn’t just leave it at that. No, you had to publicly humiliate me. You let your friend Ethan out me. I don’t care if it was for an election, you don’t just get to do that Janus!” Patton is screaming at him now, “You don’t get to decide that. I’m supposed to be the one who decides where, and when, and who knows, and how I get to say it, that’s supposed to be my thing! And you took that away from me.” 

Patton’s explosive anger is hardening into something cooler, harder, and more dangerous. 

“So would you please just get the fuck away from me!” 

That’s when it really hits Janus how badly he fucked up. Patton never curses. Patton doesn’t even say darn. If Patton was angry enough to use a curse word, the world should be terrified. It’s more unlikely for Patton to curse than for him to hit someone 

Janus wishes Patton had hit him, because it would hurt so much less. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later Janus, Patton, and the entire school are in the auditorium waiting to hear the election results. All of Janus' months of work have led up to this moment. The name on the slip of paper the principal is holding will tell him if it was all for nothing.

Students are chattering to each other but Janus tunes it all out, because for the first time in two weeks, Patton is sitting next to him. 

Granted, it’s not by choice, the two candidates have to sit together in the first row, but Janus will take anything he can get. 

“Alright everybody, Settle down, settle down.” The principal's deep voice echoes through the auditorium. When he’s satisfied with the noise level, he continues, “Both of our candidates have worked tirelessly these past months to present themselves as student body presidents worthy of you, and happy to say that both of them have done a phenomenal job. However, there can only be one winner of this race so without further ado, your new student body president is,” He pauses for dramatic effect. 

“Janus Dean.” 

Janus waits for the rush. He waits for the happy feeling to inundate him. He has won, everything in these past few months has been worth it. He beat Patton. He showed up Ethan. He showed this entire school that he is worth something, and that he will be someone. 

So why doesn’t he feel good? 

Janus puts on a smile, grabs the piece of paper with his victory speech written, and walks towards the podium.

When he gets there the lights are blinding, but he knows the entire student body is staring back at him. The only person Janus can see is Patton. Patton looks sad. Defeated. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Janus picks up his speech to read. He’s supposed to talk about the support of the students, the support of the staff, how much this victory means to him, and how he promises to do his very best to fulfill their needs. He can’t start talking though. This isn’t right. 

Then it finally hits him. 

The thing he wants more than anything isn’t to win this dumb race, the thing he wants more than anything in the world is Patton. He wants to see Patton’s smile every morning. He wants to hear Patton call Janus his boyfriend. He wants to see Patton happy. He wants to have so many firsts with Patton. He wants to be able to kiss Patton whenever he wants. He wants to hold hands with Patton and call him obnoxious pet names. 

He puts his speech down.

“Hey everyone.” He says, “First of all, I would like to thank everyone for their vote. It means the world to me that you would put that kind of trust in me.” Janus pauses, and stares Patton dead in the eyes, “However I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline the position.” 

Whispers explode throughout the auditorium and the teachers are frozen in shock. 

“I thought standing up here was the thing I wanted more than anything, but I was wrong. See, a few months ago, I was assigned to work on a history project with this guy. At the time I really hated him, he was so perfect. He was so good. Then he decided to run against me in this race and suddenly he became a problem I had to solve. Me and one of my friends decided it would be fun for me to pretend to date him, and then leak some of his secrets, showing everyone that he isn’t as perfect as he looked. It was the perfect plan. Or so I thought. I started spending more time with this guy, I tried so hard to hate him, but it was impossible. That’s how good he is. We became fast friends, and he made me better. I loved being around him, it was like waking up to a bright summer day. Loving him snuck him on me, but soon it was like breathing. I couldn’t keep collecting information on him, and so I told my friend it was over. Wrong move.” Janus took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop looking at Patton.

“He outed this guy to our entire school. I don’t know how many of you are part of the queer community, but being out is one of the worst things in the world. Everyone says it’s like ripping a bandaid off. It’s more than that. Being outed when you’re not ready is like someone stabbing a healing wound. It is so fucked up, and one of the worst things I could’ve let happen. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” 

Patton is shaking; Janus keeps going.

“Even worse, I heard what people were saying in the halls. I heard the slurs and the whispers and the hate, and I kept walking. I thought it would be better to keep my head down and stay in my lane, so I wouldn’t get hurt. But the truth is if we don’t demand respect, it is going to get taken from us. LGBTQ+ teenagers face a suicide rate five times that of our straight peers. We are two times as likely to be bullied for being who we are, and it really shows. This applies to everyone including myself: Do better. I should have said something.” 

“Your new student body president, Patton Hart, is overqualified for the job. He is caring and honest. He sees the best in everyone, including screw-ups like me. He’s hardworking and selfless. He’ll sit with you at lunch even if he doesn’t know you. He’ll compliment your clothes and help you with your homework. He has done all of these things even when he wasn’t your president. He is the heart of this school, and no one fits the role better than him.” 

Janus turns back to Patton and gives him a small smile, “Patton, I am so sorry. For everything. I know this doesn’t make up for anything that I’ve put you through, but you deserve the world.” 

Janus turns back to the audience, “Thank you for your time.” 

Everything is silent. And then everyone flies out of their seats, and the sound is deafening.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus doesn’t see Patton for the rest of the day. It’s a Monday which means they don’t share any classes together. Janus doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even know if Patton wants to see him. He feels a little lighter, he isn’t drowning in the guilt anymore. It isn’t gone but it isn’t suffocating him anymore. Even if Patton never talks to him again, Janus will always know he did one good thing in his life, even if it’s infinitesimal compared to all the bad. 

Around 6:30 that night Janus’ phone buzzes.

When he checks his phone, he has one text from Patton, and Janus forgets how to breathe.

Patton Hart, 6:31 pm: did you mean what you said. 

Janus Lyre, 6:32 pm: every word.

Patton Hart, 6:32 pm: meet me by our park.

“Yes!” Janus cheers. Patton wants to see him. Janus is going to go see Patton. Janus is going to see Patton! 

Every step he takes to his car feels like he’s walking on air. When he get into his car he plays the playlist Patton made for the first time in weeks.

The speed limit on the roads is 30, but if Janus goes at 35 no one has to know. 

When he gets to the bench he and Patton have hung out at, Patton is already there. 

He’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and the blue flannel Janus gave him for his birthday. Janus knows that’s intentional, and the urge to pull Patton into a kiss is so hard to resist. He could do it, there are no people around to get in their way.

“Hey snake boy,” Patton says.

“Hey, golden boy,” Janus says, and oh how he missed this. Patton and his messy hair are inches away from him. 

“Can I…” Patton trails off, but he’s looking at Janus’ lips.

“Always.” 

Patton and Janus crash into each other. Patton is kissing him and his lips are warm. He tastes like cinnamon. Janus wraps his arms around Patton’s shoulders and pulls him closer, this feels so right. Janus never wants to stop kissing Patton. He wants it to be his job, Janus Dean, professional kisser of Patton Hart. It has a nice ring to it.

“That was one heck of a speech Jan,” Patton says.

Janus smirks, “Only the best for our student body president.” 

Patton giggles but then becomes more serious, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Only doing what’s right.”

“Still” 

“You’re right Pat I did have an ulterior motive.” 

“Oh?” Patton raises his eyebrows. 

“I’ve always loved the sound of first lady,” Janus says seriously. 

Patton pulls him in for another kiss, and Janus wonders if he’s dreaming. 

“I love you.” Patton says, and his hair is frazzled and he’ out of breath but Janus is struck by just how beautiful Patton is. 

“I love you too.” 

Life isn’t a fairytale, Janus knows that, but this feels like his happy ever after.

a/n: thanks for reading!!!! yes, the scene where Patton yells at Janus is inspired by Love, Simon, and yes, you read that right, Solangelo did get a cameo

taglist(let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@kawaiikat54 @foreverfangirlalways @five-falseh00ds-ph0nated @kiribakuandcats 

[yhchanwoo]

hi! i’m very happy to be joining yangcheon (even if it was an impulse decision) & i look forward to learning about all of the characters here! i’ll be writing for kang chanwoo, the kang family’s youngest child and (former?) cello prodigy. i have his stats here, a few plot ideas here (will add more eventually) and a collection of info below the cut. like this post if you’re interested in plotting with us!

TW INSECTS! chanwoo has always been the typical ~weird~ kid. obsessed with horror and unsettling history, comfortable with picking giant bugs up in his bare hands, brave enough to go explore that haunted place you always hear of......... having said that, he’s one of the biggest sweethearts you’ll ever meet. END TW!

didn’t think he was going to go into classical music because it was just........ really boring to him, but then he discovered how eerie and dark the cello can sound and he was like yo...... maybe classical music is cool. as you could expect, he was awful at first, had to endure a lot of criticism & doubt, especially from his teachers who wanted him to focus on school and leave music to his parents bc he was genuinely quite smart. but he kept at it, worked really hard to be on par with his family musically.

known for performing really intense, moody pieces at recitals. he’s..... still quite intense off the stage, but he’s a lot more light-hearted and bright than strangers would assume! has always struggled to fit in with others, but he never stops trying!!!! will be kind to absolutely anyone, no matter how you treat him. might catch a lil attitude every now and then, but honestly, who doesn’t?

as the youngest in the kang family, you could say that he feels a bit obligated to be the bright and happy one. of course, before the accident, this happiness was usually genuine anyway so all he had to do was show it! he was never the elegant musician he was expected to be, always really clumsy, loud, painfully honest. wanted to live a fulfilling life and make tons of people happy in the process. has a huge heart and will love anyone who will let him. even loved his mom a TON in the past despite her constant attitude and strict parenting. thought life was so much better than what others made it out to be. rly naive, gullible, would believe anything (still will tbh). of course, it’s not like he’s had the ~best~ life and his view of the world has become quite dark in the past year but u know. he’s still capable of being that hopeful kid again, he’s just struggling a lil rn.

was accepted into yangcheon university as a musical performance major, but then he lost his dad (see kang family’s history) & kinda......... lost all confidence he had in music, began to break down when he even thought of LOOKING at his cello again. it’s currently hidden under a bunch of old blankets. anyway! now he’s an undecided major who skips class more often than not. doesn’t even skip to be rebellious bc he’s a Good Kid(tm), just does it bc school is exhausting nowadays. obviously he’s real impressive.

the rumor about him practicing (dark) magic...... does he know his way around a tarot deck? yes. does he collect rocks/stones? yes. is he obsessed with the phases of the moon? yes. does he have candles that COULD be used for spells? yes. does he make odd trips into the woods/secluded places with suspicious bags? yes. is he sometimes seen with strange books? yes...... but! he does NOT practice dark magic!!!! probably has no idea that that’s going around since he hardly talks to anyone these days. would explain his behavior if anyone asked (maybe).

like i mentioned before, he likes the cello for how dark and creepy it can be,,,,,,,, but make no mistake. this mf used to be obsessed with the cello. he definitely knows a bunch of taylor swift covers. every time he heard a song he liked, he’d start thinking about how to play it on the cello. probably embarrassed his parents sometimes.

TW INSECTS! really likes bugs. i mean........ he LOVES them. all of ‘em. has kept various kinds of bugs as pets in the past, would probably have some rn if he was capable of taking care of them but with where he’s at mentally, he’s not even properly taking care of himself, so....... maybe later. anyway, he also really likes the simpsons and used to make everyone call him bart as a joke. some of his nicknames are bart, buglord bart, bart the bug boy and just buglord/bug boy. END TW!

also likes photography a lot. he’s not that good at it, but he likes to fuck around with old film cameras or just those cheap disposable cameras. he collects a bunch of pics that don’t have any real subject/meaning, he just thinks they look cool. let him look at your/your family’s photo albums/photo bins/whatever and he’ll be SO happy.

really into history in general. all kinds of history. the story of how u got that one scar, what used to be where that strip mall is now, what a certain area was like five hundred years ago. has briefly considered being a historian but idk he’s still kinda holding onto hope that maybe one day his cello won’t seem so threatening.

thinks overalls are super cool and anyone who disagrees is just a hater. 60% of his wardrobe is overalls + oversized sweaters, 10% is dad hats + bucket hats, 15% is colorful high-top sneakers and the other 15% is things he bought bc of trends or suits for recitals.

likes cold weather and halloween, so this time of the year is usually ~heaven~ for him but he’s really sad rn so he’ll probably just be chillin in his room wearing some too-expensive costume that he ordered online for the lols.

edit bc i wrote this before the event was posted: perhaps he’ll be out and about, grooving around town for the first time in months. match costumes with him........ go trick-or-treating even tho u’re adults..... get a sugar high...... he’ll appreciate it so much. u have no idea.

plays acnh for the serotonin (and the cool bugs).

[ritualpurposes]

Why History is Important

This week has been a week of terrible takes on History, Politics and how the two intersect. From the appalling article in the Telegraph on how the “woke masses” are trying to sabotage Britain’s history (I won’t give this the dignity of a link, but it is easy enough to find), the continued harassment and vilification of Dr Corinne Fowler for her work on the Colonial Countryside Project, to the release of the utterly disgusting 1776 commission in the US and as always, the plethora of ‘hot takes’ on Tumblr, I am seething with rage.

This is a long one, apologies. I won’t go into Tumblrs approach to history, that has been better covered by others here, and here and honestly this rant is long enough as is. 

Archaeology and history are inherently political, that is an inescapable fact. People are quick to turn up their noses at the subject of the past and say it has no bearing on the present, but that is a simplistic fantasy. The present is always built of the back of the past, our attitudes, our justifications, our worldviews are all artifacts of what has come before. And when our understanding of what came before is, shall we charitably say, flawed, that is dangerous. The links between the alt. right, white supremacy and fake, white –washed, hyper masculine ideas of the past are well documented. Many of these people justify their actions using versions of the past which to them are very real, ideas of a white ethno-state where the men were Men™. It should be noted, this isn’t a modern phenomenon, I’m pretty sure anyone who has had to sit through intro to archaeology has had to listen to at least once lecture on how Hitler used pseudo archaeology to justify his actions. And while academics can point out that Roman Britain was not white, or that the Vikings traded and intermarried with people from North Africa, these attempts are hindered, both by popular perceptions of the past, and by this idea that the left are attempting to rewrite history.

I find that last point difficult really to deal with, because it combines two opposing ideas, that historians want to make the past more ‘politically correct’ but also downplay the ‘greatness’ of whatever nation they are talking about by talking about the distinctly not political correct bits of history (colonialism and slavery).  There is this overwhelming idea that adding any sort of nuance is the result of massive bias. And that any history that doesn’t make your nation look 100% the Heroic Good Guys is part of some sort of plot to undermine national pride and patriotism. The Tories are terrified we might remove statues of slavers, but in the same breath attack the National Trust for trying to talk about the Colonial legacies of their properties.

I think at this point it’s also worth discussing the difference between history and commemoration.  I am 100% in support of removing statues, and of renaming streets etc. These things are not history, they are commemoration. History is found in museums, in books, in scholarship. History is knowledge, it is not objects but the context that surrounds them.  The removal of a statue does not equal rewriting history, a statue, while an archaeologically interesting artifact, does not in and of itself tell us much. Its context is far more revealing. There is an idea in archaeology called object biography, that looks at how items change in meaning and use throughout their ‘lives’. Items are not static, just like ideas are not static. In the 19th century that statue meant something very different to the people who are around today. What we commemorate, and what commemorations we destroy tell us about society. If the history of Edward Coulston is so important (a man, who I had never heard of before the statue was thrown into the river, so clearly not a priority in English history), then put the statue in a museum with an information board. And if you are really worried about the destruction of history? Why don’t you spend your time and money instead ensuring archaeological work gets done ahead of development or making sure history departments are adequately funded. Interesting, the Torries, while very concerned about statues, are actively fighting those two measures. I know less about the Republican agenda, but looking at the 1776 project, I’m pretty sure that any concern they have for history is less about the past and more about preserving the status quo.

I grew up in America. I took AP US history, and I remember having to write papers about how the Civil War was absolutely not about Slavery. I guess that doesn’t seem that harmful in and of itself, but let’s trace this bit of revisionism through shall we. The Civil war was over States rights, that doesn’t sound too bad. I mean I may not agree with the South, but is it really a moral issue to say that the Federal Government shouldn’t be able to override what individual States want? After all States are very different, what is good for New York might not be so good for Georgia. Ok, so using that logic I don’t really see what’s wrong with flying a confederate flag, I mean it can’t possibly be a symbol of oppression, because the Civil War *wasn’t* about Slavery. So I don’t see why people are getting all upset, it is simply a statement that States Rights are important.

Add to this the general romanticized picture of the Confederate South in the media and you suddenly are looking at a very different picture of the past, supported by, of all things, the fucking AP US History curriculum. The Confederates are seen as tragic heroes, on the wrong side of history perhaps, but with a point, fighting for a way of life.  And from there it doesn’t seem too far a leap to what happened on January 6 does it?  I’m not saying all media should demonize the South, but I think removing Slavery from the Civil war is dangerous and false representation of History, and one that directly plays into the Civil Unrest we are seeing at the Moment.

So that brings me back to the 1776 commission. It was published as a direct response to the 1619 Project. The 1619 Project sought to center slavery and its effects on American history. This is hugely important, and a weirdly contentious issue. The echos of slavery are still present in the USA, in the form of institutionalized racism, voter suppression, and increased levels of police brutality among other things. It is, at best impossibly naive and at worst actively malicious, to try and consider US history without dealing with the brutal legacy of slavery. And yet, this project was deemed to be ‘UnAmerican’ and ‘revisionist’. How dare any history of America undermine the idea that America is, and has always been, A noble nation that has never done anything wrong ever. To return briefly to my own experiences with AP US History, our textbook said we didn’t lose Vietnam (My father who was a war correspondent in Vietnam had some things to say about that comment). The myth of American Exceptionalism runs deep. The 1776 commission, which I have not brought myself to read in its entirety, is a horrific example of it. It justifies slavery, it states that “as a question of practical politics, no durable union could have been formed without a compromise among the states on the issue of slavery.”, states racism ended in 1964, and that Christianity is the reason we have secular law.

Why does this scare the shit out of me? Why do I care what people believe happened 200 years ago? Because if people truly believe that America can do no wrong, that patriotism means never questioning that we really will live in Trump’s America. Because if Slavery was justified, and racism doesn’t exist anymore than clearly we don’t have to do better, and any complaints are communist plot.  Because if Empire really did make England Great then why should we not continue in the same vain? History is grand! Let us live in the Good Ol’ Days!

History is messy. History is unpleasant. History doesn’t fit into simple narratives of good and bad, because people don’t fit into those categories. And while I agree it is impossible to teach history without some bias (interpretation being a key part), we need to accept our past. If we want a brighter future we need to confront where we come from. We need to fight the false narratives prevalent in our culture, be they the idea that Game of Thrones is a good picture of Medieval England or that the Civil War was over a simple ideological difference and not the lives of thousands of enslaved peoples. The best bit of advice on history I ever got was from my high school teacher “If you want to live in the past you haven’t been paying attention”, I think about that statement a lot. The past has power, let us not pretend otherwise.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Warlock society! I wanted to add but didn't know if it was okay to reblog and add. I also think given the history of warlock children like Magnus being abused, maybe dedicated groups of warlocks band together to identify, locate and keep track of new warlocks. I feel like ley lines and all that must be affected when someone new taps into them. Like just high warlocks taking newly realized warlocks under their wings and getting used to their new powers.

i really can't stress enough that it's always okay to reblog and add to any of my posts. few things make me happier. i love excuses to talk more. i mean hear your thoughts. udhasiuhdasih no but really tho, both, i just love talking about this and seeing your responses and ideas and aaaa

i absolutely agree with you! it was really so unrealistic in sh how so many groups of oppressed ppl who went through such similar kinds of trauma didn't organize at all or build any form of mutual supporting networks or social programs or ANYTHING.... wtf are these bitches doing all day lol pls guys of course they would organize collectively (not just "i personally want to help other people", really organize and have some level of structure. i'm not saying something absolutely amazing cuz that would require lots of resources and there's a war and stuff but at least a little something c'mon) 

and yeah it was pretty much implied that warlocks can feel each other too because magnus said that he knew dot was dead because he couldn't feel her magic so like? presumably when a new warlock is born they should be able to tell because of the sudden surge of magic? i mean maybe it's more diffuse than that as there are millions of warlocks and so their different magical signatures can only be told apart when they already know it and are looking for it, but still. maybe children of more powerful demons are easier to find since their magic is stronger too... but anyway okay i can buy that it's not like "ping! a new warlock is here!" but there's gotta be a way to track, right? 

and i just ugh i'd love to see warlocks combining magic and technology to do that, you know? especially cuz dicks out for genius magnus as usual (hell, even genius madzie if they only get into that project later on!!) and god it would be just amazing to see them all working together to make sure they can find other warlock kids and make sure they are well supported and don't have to go through the pain that they did, you know? idk something to monitor magical signatures in the ley lines and locate frequencies (?) that they haven't seen before? since you know it's implied that every magical signature is unique. maybe they even find a way to do that without having to register every warlock's magical signature as that could be dangerous, just like, anonymous data that tells apart the frequencies and is able to point when a new one surges... yeah

and just, therapy in general? i know i've slutted too much about warlock therapists in general but i really would love to see warlocks that dedicate themselves to specific fields of science applied to magical creatures... like doctors, teachers, therapists (god knows everyone in the shadow world needs them), historians, and just any "humanities" field you can think of. the possibilities of fields of study and shit they could specialize in!

and also like, addiction support groups for vampires, since they are so likely to get addicted to human blood (both because of biology and circumstances, you know, being suddenly completed isolated like that is the easiest way to turn to addiction as a means to cope), support groups for them to talk about their trauma, support groups for newly turned ppl to talk about their struggles, schools of magic and history and all those fields i was talking about.... just so much they could do to make the downworld really its own place and society and not just the margins of society, but a culture with real people and issues and organization.... aaaaaaaaa what i wouldn't give to get that tbh

[purplesurveys]

1124

survey by nadine07

Three Names You Are Called:

1. Robyn, by virtually everybody. 

2. Byn, by close family members.

3. For some reason I have some friends who call me Bynbyn? even though I never established it as a nickname?? but they use it as an affectionate nickname so ultimately I don’t mind it. It just takes me aback sometimes, lmao.

Three Colors You Are Wearing At the Moment:

1. Red

2. White

3. Pink. Or light purple, depending on how you see it.

The Last Three People To Call You:

1. My mom, though I missed the call because I was at work earlier.

2. I just saw that Ysa, my director, also tried to call me. This story is so fucking stupid...I physically went to the office last Wednesday to pack some groceries, and all day long I had been leaving the door slightly ajar every time I had to go out because I haven’t had my biometrics enrolled yet and I don’t hold the keys to the office (and I was the only one who requested to go there for that day).

Of course, knowing my luck, the door slipped while I was out (I had to very briefly hand a package to a courier), locking me out of the goddamn office with all my shit inside. Even worse, I had a meeting going on with a client – I had speaking parts assigned to me, and I got locked out like 30 seconds before my part would start. I’m guessing Ysa called me during the time I disappeared but I obviously couldn’t have answered the phone. It was infuriating, especially since my manager had to cover for my slides which she didn’t practice for.

I’ll no longer get into how I managed to get back inside since it’s another embarrassing and complicated story altogether, but suffice it to say I was really upset about the whole thing and I still feel uneasy imagining how that meeting could’ve gone down with my disappearance.

3. A courier. They usually call when they’re already arrived where you are, so that they know where exactly to meet up with you.

Three Days You Look Forward To Each Year:

1. My birthday, because it’s kinda cool turning into a different age.

2. Whenever Wrestlemania is scheduled, which is usually late March or early April.

3. ...I don’t have any either favorite days/dates.

Three Jobs You've Had:

1. PR associate.

2. That’s my first job. I’ve had two internships before that, and they were both at PR agencies.

3. -

Three Bands/Singers You Love:

1. Paramore

2. Beyoncé

3. The Japanese House

Three People You've Talked To Today:

1. It’s exactly 7 AM. I could’ve talked to my parents when they headed downstairs earlier but I pretended I was still asleep on the couch so that they couldn’t, hahaha. They’ve since gone out to jog. I don’t think I’ve said a word at all yet this morning, actually.

2. -

3. -

Three Things You Could Grab From Where You're Sitting:

1. My phone.

2. The other end of this table.

3. My vape pen.

The Last Three Things You've Had to Drink:

1. I most recently had a glass of water after I finished my bag of salted egg chips.

2. I finished off the last of my coffee.

3. I also drank soju last night as an impromptu thing because I saw that I still had a peach-flavored one (my favorite) in the fridge.

Three People You Can Always Count On:

1. Angela.

2. Andi.

3. I’m also gonna name Pia even though we aren’t the closest. Girl has been crazy supportive over the last few months.

Three Places You Want to Go:

1. That I haven’t been to yet? Seoul in South Korea.

2. Thailand.

3. Morocco.

The Last Three Places You've Gone:

1. Other than places in the house – the local coffee shop inside my village.

2. The office.

3. The Starbucks beside the office. I had arrived a bit early so I had some time to walk over there and order something.

The Last Three Non-Relatives You've Hung Out With:

1. Angela.

2. Hans.

3. We were 8 in the group the last time we went out lol. But aside from the above, Pia (a different one) was the one who made the most effort to talk to me as well.

Three People To Be Stranded On A Desert Island With:

1. Angela.

2. Kate.

3. Not sure. Maybe Al for some comic relief while we try to survive there?

Three Smells You Love:

1. Cookies being baked.

2. A hotel room.

3. Seafood.

Three People You Look Up To:

1. Angela’s mom.

2. Andi.

3. My manager, Bea. Well she just got promoted, so I guess I’ll call her my director now, hahaha.

Three Places You've Lived:

1. The duplex where I mostly grew up, just a village away from my current one. I got to experience living in either house, as well.

2. Tondo, Manila. With my dad’s family.

3. Sampaloc, Manila. My parents briefly had an apartment and I was there for like a few months as a newborn.

Three Good Teachers You've Had:

1. My music teacher for the entirety of high school.

2. My professor in international relations.

3. My professor in my social history and history of Filipino women electives.

Three Things You're Good At:

1. I gotta say I’m great at parking, hahaha. Backward parking, parallel parking, you name it.

2. Going through my to-do list and finishing off every task by the end of the day.

3. Reflexes, or reacting/responding immediately, especially in games.

The Last Three People You've Kissed:

1. Gabie.

2. -

3. -

The Last Three People You've Dated:

1. Gabie.

2. -

3. -

Three People With Whom You've Shared a Secret:

1. Andi.

2. JM.

3. Jo was the first person I informed about my breakup, and I didn’t even reveal it publicly until like three months after. I didn’t expect to confide in her especially since we aren’t the closest, but I think I was just desperate to tell someone then to finally acknowledge reality.

Three Irresponsible Things You've Done:

1. Vape.

2. Road rage.

3. Leave my laptop in a classroom as I left to go to another class, in another building.

Three Movies You Love:

1. Two for the Road.

2. Revolutionary Road.

3. Room.

The Last Three People You've Gone to the Movies With:

1. Angela.

2. Leigh.

3. Gabie.

The Last Three People You've Ridden in a Car With:

1. Laurice.

2. Kuya Toby.

3. Lui.

Three Facts About Your #1:

1. Can I name my best friends instead? Angela is in her final year of college taking up architecture.

2. She has two shih tzus, Hailey and Kennedy.

3. Her mom is a pediatrician and has her own clinic in their home.

Three Places You've Gone With Your #2:

1. I haven’t been too adventurous with Andi...most recently we’ve gone to a Korean barbecue joint for a one-on-one catch up date.

2. TK.

3. Rita’s house.

Three Things You've Done With Your #3:

1. Kate works for the government.

2. Last time I talked to her, she’s still set on retake a law school exam after not getting admitted to her campus of choice last year.

3. She had a bad habit of dating orgmates.

Three Things You Have in Common With Your #4:

1. Laurice is great at debate.

2. She lives in the south, so I don’t get to see her a lot.

3. She has a cute habit of calling many of our friends by their respective honorifics, even though they’re the same age or even when she’s literally older than some of them.

Three Things That Annoy You:

1. Making the effort to go to a store and seeing they’re closed for the day, even though they didn’t indicate it in their social media accounts.

2. Offices of government agencies and their ever-grumpy staff.

3. Filipinos’ tendency to turn 3 lanes into 6 during a traffic jam.

Three Things That Attract You To The Opposite Sex:

1. Asexual. Pass.

2. - 

3. - 

Three Material Items You'd Save If You're House Was On Fire:

1. My laptop, since all my work files and a whole ton of memories are in here.

2. My phone, so I can update family and friends.

3. My glasses. Realistically, I wouldn’t care about any of these and would jump up to grab my dogs instead.

Three Careers You've Considered:

1. Journalist.

2. Lawyer.

3. Historian.

Three Things You Wish You Knew About Your Future:

1. Whether marriage or kids will be part of mine.

2. When I’m dying, and what from.

3. Where I’ll end up living, and what kind of housing.

The Last Three Songs You Listened To:

1. Wait On - Hayley Williams

2. Good Grief - Hayley Williams

3. Over Those Hills - Hayley Williams. Stream Flowers for Vases, friends.

Three Things You Consider Lucky:

1. I don’t believe in lucky charms.

2. - 

3. - 

Three T.V. Show Characters You Wish Were Real:

1. Mr. Peanutbutter from BoJack Horseman.

2. Chandler Bing from Friends.

3. Glenn Rhee from The Walking Dead.

Three Issues You Have Strong Opinions On:

1. Racial equality. 

2. Gender equality.

3. Abortion rights.

Three Things You Wish You Could Change About Yourself:

1. That I wasn’t so clumsy at work.

2. That I wasn’t too selfless all the time to just about anyone.

3. That I had a better hold of my finances and keep spending just because I’m still within budget, heheh.

Three People From Your Past You Wish You Could Spend a Day With:

1. My grandpa, who passed away before I could properly grow up and shoot the shit with him over some beer.

2. Nacho.

3. Sofie, so we can properly catch up, just the two of us.

Three Famous People You'd Like to Meet:

1. Beyoncé.

2. Hayley Williams.

3. Leni Robredo.

Three Things You Are Wearing:

1. A t-shirt.

2. A pair of shorts.

3. Underwear.

The Last Three Places You Went That Were More Than 2 Hours Away:

1. Tagaytay.

2. My dad’s family’s home in Laguna.

3. Those are the only places we’ve been to where we had to travel for a while.

The Last Three Reasons You Went to the Hospital:

1. Blood and urine test for my ~mystery illness~ last year.

2. I had to be confined for a couple of days because of low platelet count.

3. ...I was born. I haven’t made many trips to the hospital. 

Three Things You Are Addicted To:

1. I’ve never felt comfortable using the term addicted because it’s an actual condition...but if you mean to ask for what I’m hooked to at the moment, I’d go with coffee.

2. And salted egg chips. I literally bought five bags of chips yesterday and I’m already finished with my third.

3. Anything Korean, tbh. Korean food, shows, music, etc...the Korean Wave is very strong over here and I’ve finally been reeled all the way in.

Three Favorite Colors:

1. Baby pink or pastel pink.

2. Mustard yellow.

3. Maroon.

Three Things You Will Do Now That This Is Over:

1. Find another one to take for later.

2. Finish my breakfast, and maybe heat up some leftover pasta because I’m still hungry.

3. Maybe get my embroidering template so I can make some progress today.

[softestsaddestbitch]

December TC Challenge

stole this from @elder-edda (sorry for creeping! just, given the usual demographic of the tc community I was excited to find another 20-smthg)

1) what color is your tc’s hair?

He has just, simple brown hair but he’s starting to go grey which, no lie, is 100% doing it for me.

2) is your tc married?

Yes? He doesn’t wear a ring and I believe she kept her last name which makes me think it’s more of a civil partnership since they’ve been together since the early 2000s at least. But he also will refer to her as “my wife” and was telling me once that they waited until “after they got married” before moving in together.

3) if yes, do you care? would you do something with them regardless of their marriage?

I know these questions are general but I do take offense at the idea of being a homewrecker/other woman. I’ve met his wife, she’s really nice.

4) what’s your worst memory with your tc?

I put my foot in my mouth SO OFTEN. Good lord. Especially my last semester at that school? He was acting weird and I had just realized after fucking ... four years?? that I romantically liked him. So I kept bringing up my weird age fixation and other bs bc I have adhd and am possibly autistic?? and can’t read a room to save my life.

5) what’s your best memory with your tc?

One year we had a really bad snowstorm, so bad in fact that I had my first-ever snow day. The college that I used to go to has four campuses across as many cities, and C has to drive in twice a week to my (old) town from his. Now, morning classes had been canceled but afternoon classes had been given the go-ahead. C, who does not check his emails until he arrives at campus, evidently did not get this message until he was already in town and therefore didn’t have a morning class, but did have an afternoon class. On this day I had a late morning class that had been reinstated, but my prof didn’t get that memo so I also was on campus but didn’t have a class. So I went to visit his office, which I had been doing throughout the semester (I didn’t have a class with him at the time) and we just ... hung out for like 2 hours. It was so nice and one of the anecdotes he told me still haunts me lol.

sidenote: at the time, I hadn’t yet realized that I liked him, but I still went out of my way to visit him. Damn I was a dumbass.

6) does anyone in your school know how you feel?

ish? I told a classmate but in a “haha joking” kinda way. And a friend who went to that school knows. No one at my current school knows.

7) does your tc know how you feel?

I think he might? might have a lil inkling which would explain why he started acting so weird my last semester. Or at the very least was told/realized how bad it could look that he was getting so chummy w/ a student.

8) do you think there’s any chance your tc reciprocates your feelings?

He and his wife have been together for around 20 years now. No. No, I don’t think so. Maybe in an alternate universe.

9) are you getting your tc a christmas present? if so, what is it?

I have in the past! Specifically like, a tin of cookies lol. I’ve also given him an actual present when I left. I do intend to send him a Christmas card every year but not this year because ... you know ... the apocalypse.

10) have you ever flirted with your tc?

Flirtation inherently has intent. So, no. How he interpreted our interactions I don’t know.

11) how long have you had a crush on them? what began it all?

SO! TIMELINE!

I was at my old school from September 2014-April 2019, I had C for the first time in September 2015. Like I mentioned above, I did not realize I had a crush on him until literally the middle of my final exam of my class with him December 2018, so I’ve only consciously had a crush for about two years now. However, as I also mentioned, I went out of my way to stop by his office, even when I didn’t have a class with him. And my relationship with/feelings towards him are complicated so I’m not going to say I did so solely because I like him, but I would put it maybe closer to somewhere in 2017. You don’t plan your schedule around someone you don’t feel strong feelings for.

12) do you believe you’ll get over them shortly after you stop taking their class/have the chance to spend time with them?

As of today, it has been been exactly a year and a half since I last him in person. In the time since, I have cried over missing him, routinely gone back to keep up with his current research projects, and made his picture a part of my home screen. I almost exclusively listen to the playlist I made for him -  so much so my Spotify Wrapped is pretty much that playlist with a few extras.

13) what kind of grades do you get in their class?

Haaaaaa pre-supension I was failing his classes. My first semester back I got .... a mid/high 70? and I finished my last class with him with an A+ and the essay I had written for his class had the highest grade between the two classes so..

14) does your tc ever do any tiny, little things that you adore?

When he puts a hand in his pocket and leans against the wall. When he tucks his hair behind his ear because he keeps falling in his face (he has long hair, a little past his shoulders). When he can’t stop himself from googling something even if its in the middle of class. How you can ask him anything at any time. The way he would chuckle at my jokes. How his handwriting hasn’t improved in decades. How easily he brushes off toxic masculinity. His candidness and willingness to share little anecdotes. The way he used to always smile whenever he saw me. That he goes home everyday to have lunch with his wife.

15) are you their favorite student?

I was! And it was obvious to other students that we had a friendly, casual relationship too. For a time, if his other students had questions about him they would ask me, and I usually had the answer. I didn’t matter in the long run, but I was. 

16) do you two share any tastes? movies, books, music, etc.

He’s a legal historian, I’m a baby legal/political historian. We also like the same historical cooking youtube channel.

17) is your teacher religious?

I doubt he would say he’s religious, but I feel like we have a similar relationship to religion which is to say no formal association, but had profound effects on our childhoods and subsequently, presumably, how we view things as adults.

18) do you masturbate to them?

Yes.

19) do you communicate with them outside of school?

I sent him a meme once. And asked about the socialist uprising scandal he was apart of. I also almost emailed him while at a museum exhibition with my history friend. These are all through email.

20) do you have any tc songs or songs you relate to your tc? what are they?

SO my number one song this year was “You are the Reason” by Calum Scott because, you guessed it, of him. But also:

I Lost a Friend - Finneas When You’re Ready - Shawn Mendes You Are in Love - Taylor Swift Break My Heart Right - James

& given the season, especially w/ what transpired last year, Last Christmas by Wham!

21) what’s your favorite thing your tc has said/memory you have with them?

One time he kinda trailed off in the middle of lecture after stating that he thought of xyz a particular way which contrasted one of the popular schools of thought, and the way he plainly said, “well, yeah, which I guess ... is I’m arguing it” almost like he was semi-surprised with himself has always stuck with me. 

But also, in addition the memory I shared earlier, we spent an hour and a half talking about grad school and what to expect and how to get there. 

22) do you plan to continue a relationship with them after you leave school?

I trid, I really did. But he doesn’t “socialize with students part or present” so I can’t exactly see him. But I did get some academic-related from him at the beginning of the year.

23) how will you deal during the summer? will you see him/her?

He’s a hermit who used my last vacation before I moved to go on all the vacations he had to postpone because he was working on his last book. And this past summer ... Covid. This question is obviously directed at high school students, but in general, he lives in the back of head always, and when I’m in my hometown for the summer my heart aches because theres a none-zero chance I’ll see him, but I know I won’t.

24) does your tc support gay rights?

Yes. He’s never been put in a position that I know of where he had to outright condemn homophobia, but in one of his classes, he actively made the choice to make the very first reading of the semester about how women in ancient times had more agency than assumed, and also how the woman in the case study was a lesbian.

25) what class do you have with them? And what period? Do you have them every day?

History classes. I won’t get into specifics because it’s kind of an eclectic mix and I’m paranoid someone from the area could come across this. But I had him twice a week every semester that I had him. Again this kind of question is more so applicable to high school students, not so much university students.

26) have you ever drifted out during a lecture thinking about them and missed information?

No. In his classes he is too enthralling, and I’m a good student otherwise.

27) have you stalked them online? what did you find out?

In theory. He’s a fifty-year-old history professor whose reaction to a description of the big lipped/tiny face filter on snapchat was “that sounds disgusting.” The man doesn’t have social media, and if he does those privacy settings are on so students can’t find him he thinks he’s very professional. I do visit his mini-bio section on the college website fairly often tho.

28) have you ever run into them outside of schools? what happened?

I did once. He introduced me to his wife, who said “oh you’re E! C has talked about you” and it apparently he had done so positively, and blew my mind because this was back when I was failing classes and also, as a person, I don’t believe that people think about me when I’m not there. They gave me a restaurant recommendation and afterwards his wife surprised me a they were leaving the restaurant because ... we had listened to them, and they also went there for lunch that day.

29) has your tc ever spoken of teacher-student relationships? what did they say?

It had recently come out that it had been found out that another professor had been in a relationship with a student and he’s the one that brought it up before class one day (with all of us not just me). He didn’t say anything for or against it, just that it was generally discouraged, but that most schools did have policies in place to handle the situation.

30) do you regret telling anyone about your tc? if you’ve kept it a secret, why have you done so?

Absolutely not. I can’t tell my best friends because they’d do nothing but give me shit for it and it would call every time I mention him into question. But the friends that I have told ... its been so freeing, and like a weight has been lifted from my heart. One friend in particular I unloaded on her all my emotional shit pertaining to him this past summer and she was so understanding it legit since then I’ve been less distraught when thinking about him. It still hurts, but it feels less like I’m suffocating now.

[akathecentimetre]

Hey there, so I really like history as a subject, and I'm pretty good at it. The thing is, I don't know what my career options would be if I studied it, or if I would be able to make money. My parents are heavily discouraging me from taking it as a major. As a 'historian' in training' what's your take? Thank you

Hi there! Sorry for the delay, ‘tis the hectic season…

Oh man, I have so many thoughts for you. Full disclosure: this is something I have worked on a LOT over the course of my graduate career both at my uni and on a national level; most of my advice, however, comes from a PhD candidate’s perspective and may not be directly helpful to an undergraduate, and I should also emphasize that everything I can say on this is very firmly based on the U.S. market only. That being said, a lot of what I can say can be universally applied, so here we go - 

The number of history undergraduates in the U.S. has plummeted in the last decade or so, from it previously being one of the most popular majors. There are many interacting reasons for this: a changeover from older to younger, better-trained, energetic professors who draw in and retain students has been very slow to occur, partly because of a lack of a mandatory retirement age; the humanities have been systematically demonized and minimized in favor of the development of STEM subjects, to the occasional benefit of students of color and women but to the detriment of critical public discourse and historical perspective on current events; with many liberal arts colleges going under financially and the enormous expansion of academic bureaucracy everywhere, resources are definitely being diverted away from social and human studies towards fields which are perceived to pay better or perceived, as mentioned in the article above, as being more ‘practical.’ (We do need a ton more healthcare workers/specialists, but that’s a different conversation to have.) But now I feel like quoting a certain Jedi Master: everything your parents say is wrong. Let’s dive into why being a historian is a positive thing for you both as a person and as a professional - 

You will be a good reader. As you learn to decipher documents and efficiently and thoroughly read secondary literature, you will develop a particular talent for understanding what is important about any piece of writing or evidence (and this can go for visual and aural evidence as well). This will serve you well in any position in which you are collecting/collating information and reporting to colleagues or superiors, and evaluating the worth of resources. Specific example - editorial staff at publishing houses either private or academic, magazines, etc. 

You will be a good writer. This will get you a good job at tons of places; don’t underestimate it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been astonished (not in a punitive way, of course, but definitely with a sense of befuddlement) by how badly some of my Ivy-league students can write. Good writing is hard, good writing is rare, and good writing is a breath of fresh air to any employer who puts a high premium upon it in their staff. History in principle is the study of change; history in practice is presenting information in a logical, interesting, and persuasive manner. Any sort of institution which asks you to write reports, summaries, copy, etc. etc. will appreciate your skills. 

You will be a good researcher. This sounds like a given, but it’s an underappreciated and vital skill. Historians work as consultants. Historians work in government - almost every department has an Office of the Historian - and in companies, writing company histories and maintaining institutional archives. A strong research profile will also serve you well if you want to go on to work in museum studies and in libraries public or private/academic. As a historian, you will know not just where to find information, but what questions you have to ask to get to the answer of how to tackle, deconstruct, and solve a problem. This is relevant to almost any career path. 

You will provide perspective. Historians react to current events in newspapers and online - not just on politics, but culture as well (my favorite article of this week is about the historicity of The Aeronauts). Historians act as expert witnesses in court proceedings. Historians write books, good books, not just meant for academic audiences but for millions upon millions of readers who need thoughtful, intelligent respite from the present. Historians work for thinktanks, providing policy analysis and development (a colleague of mine is an expert on current events of war in Mali and works for multiple thinktanks and organizations because of it). Historians work for nonprofits or lobbying groups on issues of poverty, environmental safety, climate change, and minority and indigenous rights. In a world when Texas school textbooks push the states’ rights narrative, historians remind us that the Civil War was about slavery. Historians remind us that women and people of color have always existed. In this time and world where STEM subjects are (supposedly) flooding the job market, we need careful historical perspective more than ever. We need useful reactions to the 2016 election, to the immigration travesties on display at the southern border, to the strengthening of right-wing parties in Europe - and history classes, or thoughtfully historical classes on philosophy and political science, are one of the few places STEM and business students gain the basic ability to participate in those conversations. [One of my brightest and most wonderful students from last year, just to provide an anecdote, is an astrophysics major who complained to me in a friendly conversation this semester that she never got the chance to talk about ‘deep’ things anymore once she had passed through our uni’s centralized general curriculum, which has a heavy focus on humanities subjects.]

You will be an educator. Teaching is a profession which has myriad challenges in and of itself, but in my experience of working with educators there is a desperate need for secondary-school teachers in particular to have actual content training in history as opposed to simply being pushed into classrooms with degrees which focus only on pedagogical technique. If teaching is a vocation you are actually interested in, getting a history degree is not a bad place to start at all. And elementary/high schools aside, you will be teaching someone something in every interaction you have concerning your subject of choice. Social media is a really important venue now for historians to get their work out into the world and correct misconceptions in the public sphere, and is a place where you can hone a public and instructive voice. You could also be involved in educational policy, assessment/test development (my husband’s field, with a PhD in History from NYU), or educational activism. 

If some of this sounds kind of woolly and abstract, that’s because it is. Putting yourself out there on the job market is literally a marketing game, and it can feel really silly to take your experience of 'Two years of being a Teaching Assistant for European History 1500-1750’ and mutate it to 'Facilitated group discussions, evaluated written work from students [clients], and ran content training sessions on complex subjects.’ But this sort of translation is just another skill - one that can be learned, improved, and manipulated to whatever situation you need it to fit.

Will you make money? That’s a question only you can answer, because only you know what you think is enough money. That being said, many of the types of careers I’ve mentioned already are not low-paying; in my experience expertise is, if you find the right workplace and the rewarding path, usually pretty well-remunerated. 

Specific advice? Hone your craft. Curate an active public presence as a historian, an expert, a patient teacher, and as as person enthusiastic about your subject. Read everything and anything. Acknowledge and insist upon complexity, and celebrate it when you can. 

And finally - will any of what I’ve said here make it easy? No, because no job search and no university experience is easy these days. It’s a crazy world and there are a lot of awful companies, bosses, and projects out there. But I do very firmly believe that you can find something, somewhere, that will suit your skills, and, hopefully, your passions too. 

Resources for you: the American Historical Association has a breakdown of their skills-based approach to the job market, reports on the job market(s) for history PhDs collectively called ‘Where Historians Work,’ and a mentorship program, Career Contacts, which could connect you with professional historians in various workplaces. There is a very active community of historians on Twitter; search for #twitterstorians. For historians who identify as female, Women Also Know History is a newer site which collates #herstorian bios and publications to make it easier for journalists to contact them for expert opinions. ImaginePhD provides career development tools and exercises for graduate students, but could probably be applied to undergrads as well. The Gilder Lehrman Institute is one of the premier nonprofits which develops and promotes historical training for secondary school teachers and classroom resources (U.S. history only). Job listings are available via the AHA, the National Council on Public History, and the IHE, as well as the usual job sites. And there’s an awful lot more out there, of course - anyone who reads or reblogs this post is welcome to add field-specific or resource-specific info. 

I hope this helps, Anon, or at least provides you with a way to argue in favor of it to your parents if it comes to that. Chin up!