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inawickedlittletown · 2 days

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You Can Always Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 1/4

Summary:

Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.

Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.

Words: 4,378

Ao3

Part One

The truth was that Buck never quite got an understanding for how the whole soulmate thing worked. His parents were soulmates which was strange to think about considering his childhood, but then Buck hadn’t known about the older brother he’d been born to save, the one he’d failed to save.

From what he’d learned in school, soulmates had been more common in the past. They said it was something to do with population growth or something about cultural life experience and technology.

There was a lot of research on why soulmates had dwindled, but no one had concrete answers. There was some kind of database where soulmates had to register. So while it wasn’t impossible to find a couple that were actually soulmates, more often than not people settled down with someone that wasn’t their soulmate. A lot of them were happy.

Buck thought that one day, it would seem like some kind of myth. Instead of viewing Aristophanes’ speech in Plato’s symposium as an explanation, it would become legend. It would no longer be an early explanation of soulmates. It would be like Plato’s allegory of the cave, a thing to consider without real life application.

And so, before Buck had even reached the age of eighteen, he was sure that he would never find his soulmate. He wasn’t resigned to it, he just knew enough about statistics and probability. Most people wouldn’t meet their soulmate. It was just how math worked.

When he joined the 118, he couldn’t deny that a part of him had been surprised when he learned that Hen was married to her soulmate. He’d asked so many questions that Hen had eventually banned him from continuing to ask.

It hadn’t stopped Buck from thinking that it was amazing. More surprising was his sister and Chim and how Buck had missed the whole thing even though he was the one to introduce them. That whole thing had made Buck well aware that even among soulmates things could be complicated.

So, when Buck followed behind Chim and Eddie onto the tarmac of LAFD Harbor station air operations, the worry in his gut growing and growing the more he thought about Bobby and Athena being unreachable and Hen being correct about the need to go out and rescue them, he didn’t expect to meet his soulmate.

In the books, it never described what it was like. It only said that you would know it if it happened to you. The book was right.

Buck knew it the moment their eyes met.

It was the world snapping to focus, narrowing down on that person and saying: “this one is for you”. It was a feeling in his gut. Tommy Kinard missed a step and as for Buck, he froze on the spot. What felt like minutes translated to seconds, but it was enough for them to both know.

They were soulmates.

Chim was explaining, expanding on what he’d said to Tommy over the phone as their uber driver drove them to Harbor. Tommy was nodding, but his eyes were on Buck and Buck couldn’t look away from him either.

It was only when Tommy looked away that Buck dropped his eyes from Tommy. He tried to shake it off, remembering why they had faked stomach issues and left in the middle of a call. Yes, he might have found his soulmate, but it wasn’t the time or place. Of course, what they were about to do was verging on stupid and reckless…but if Hen was right — and she most likely was — then they had to and Buck couldn’t complicate matters because their pilot turned out to be his soulmate.

He could tell that Tommy seemed to have decided the same from how quickly he began directing them to a helicopter.

“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”

“That would require I know who exactly I’m allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said.

Eddie stepped forward first, hand out to shake Tommy’s. “Eddie Diaz,” he said.

“I’m Evan Buckley,” Buck said, and he knew his voice was shaky.

None of them noticed because it seemed that Hen had arrived. Tommy’s hand touched Buck’s shoulder. “Get situated. I’ll get Hen.”

His shoulder felt warm, it was in Buck’s head, but still it lingered even as he climbed in first. He took a few breaths to center himself. They would have time to deal with it later. He had to focus on that. By the time they were in the air, that got a little easier. When Tommy mentioned that they might all die, Buck felt the loss of what he’d just found and he wanted to scream. In a way, it also made perfect sense for his life. Of course he would meet his soulmate, get into a life or death situation, and perish.

When they found the capsized cruise ship, he almost felt relieved, followed by the fear of what they would find once they got down there. Bobby and Athena had to be alright, they just had to be.

Focusing on the work kept him from thinking about Tommy and about everything that came with it because there were so many layers to get through. It was a while before Bobby, the kid, and Eddie had climbed into the back of the helicopter, leaving Buck to sit up front.

Tommy glanced at him right as he settled himself in and he smiled a smile that scrunched up his nose and the corners of his eyes. Buck shouldn’t have found it so endearing, then again, this was his soulmate. Buck smiled back and he wanted nothing more than to bring it up, to confirm with Tommy what they both knew to be true. He couldn’t, though. He didn’t want to do it over the open channel. So, instead, he turned away, admiring the clear blue skies and the water below. It was as if the storm they flew into hadn’t been there at all. When he looked back at Tommy again, it was even harder to look away, but he forced himself to when the helicopter touched down on the ship.

His mind couldn’t quite wrap around it. He had a soulmate. He, Evan Buckley had a soulmate and he’d met him. Him. His soulmate was a dude. A man. It was hitting him secondary to the initial thing, that he had a soulmate at all.

Same sex soulmates were a normal thing, Buck knew, it was just that in most instances soulmates were romantic and Buck wasn’t gay. He loved women. He slept with women. He was attracted to women.

Bobby walked ahead of them and Buck heard Hen calling out to Athena. Buck stopped to watch as Bobby and Athena ran into each other’s arms and he was caught up in the moment. He hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Athena when Tommy first landed the helicopter on the capsized ship, but he’d seen her worry for Bobby. That was the devotion and love that Buck wanted…what he’d been searching for and failing to find for years.

Athena and Bobby weren’t even soulmates, though they may as well be. They had always given Buck hope that he could be happy without a soulmate…but now he’d found his soulmate. Tommy.

Eddie was next to him, but Buck was a little more focused on Tommy approaching. It all still felt like the wrong place or time and as Eddie headed towards the other side of the ship, leaving them seemingly alone, Buck had no idea what to do. Slowly, he turned to look at Tommy. Tommy was smiling wide. He looked beautiful. Buck didn’t think he’d ever thought that about a dude before and yet it was true. Their shared look was enough to confirm what Buck already knew.

“You’re—” Buck managed to get out, his throat closing in on the word.

“Yeah…we are,” Tommy said. His eyes were shining.

Buck’s mind went blank, words and thoughts jumbled up in a way that had never happened before. Tommy seemed if not similarly affected, then willing to wait for Buck to be the first to say something. Buck also realized that he didn’t mind just losing himself in staring at Tommy.

He only looked away when Eddie was back, bumping into his shoulder and delivering a bottle of water to him and Tommy each, entirely oblivious to what was going on between them. Buck’s hands shook as he opened the bottle, but he was grateful and drank almost all of it in one go.

Eddie was talking about their ETA back to LA when Chim appeared at Tommy’s side.

“Can’t thank you enough, man,” he said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.

Tommy laughed. “I’m always a call away, Howie. But, thank you…I really…thank you.”

Chim just shook his head, but Tommy’s eyes were on Buck and Buck inhaled a breath. He’d have to thank Chim too, eventually. It wasn’t lost on him that he had introduced Chin to his soulmate and that Chim had now introduced Buck to his.

Bobby and Athena approached, arms still around each other. They looked exhausted, but happy.

“I was so glad to see you two,” Bobby said, directed at Buck and Eddie. Then, he turned towards Tommy. “And you…thank you, for helping these guys out.”

Bobby reached out a hand and Tommy grasped it and Buck could tell he was shocked by Bobby pulling him into a quick but meaningful hug. Athena for her part just pat Tommy’s shoulder.

It should have bothered Buck that he had yet to have a single moment alone with his soulmate, but he liked having him there among his family. They would talk about it, figure out what it meant later. It gave Buck a bit of time to think, too. He had a soulmate. His soulmate was a man. His soulmate was Tommy, a ridiculously impressive LAFD pilot.

Buck was an ally. He always put a rainbow up on his social media in June. He’d gone to a few pride parades since living in LA. He’d never dated a guy before, though, never even thought that it was a possibility for him. Looking at Tommy, he wondered if Tommy had known that men were an option for him. All that Buck really knew about the guy was that he’d been with the 118 as far back as when Chim had become a firefighter and that he hadn’t stayed too long after Bobby took over as Captain.

Maybe they were meant to be platonic…have some deep understanding about each other that no one else could ever comprehend. A little like he and Eddie, maybe. That wouldn’t be too bad.

He stole glances of Tommy as Bobby and Athena started to tell them exactly what had gone down even before the hurricane. Buck was having a hard time focusing, but the few things he caught did make it seem like it had been far more eventful than any cruise had a right to be.

He couldn’t deny that Tommy was attractive. He was tall and his arms were kind of huge. Tommy’s attention was wholly on Athena and Bobby, eyebrows a bit furrowed as Bobby explained how it had felt when the ship capsized. Buck’s attention was on the way Tommy’s mouth moved as if out of surprise for what Bobby had just said. His attention was drawn to Tommy’s storm colored eyes and on the slight curl of his hair.

“I wish you had been there to see him, Buck,” Athena said.

Buck refocused. Eyes reluctantly going to Athena.

“Well, if Buck had been there, he would have been the one doing that climb,” Bobby said. “I’m going to be sore for days.”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Athena said.

Tommy was called away before Buck could find a reason to explain wanting to talk to him on his own and then the next time he saw him, he was saying a quick goodbye and heading back to the helicopter. Buck watched him as he took off and wished that somehow he’d had a reason to go with him.

“Cool guy,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” Buck said and he knew he sounded awestruck.

—

Tommy had known from the moment he saw him.

When his phone rang and Howie’s name appeared, Tommy had sort of known that Chim probably wanted something from him. It was why he called at all these days, but Tommy didn’t mind. He wasn’t wrong and as Chim explained something about Hen having a hunch and how she was probably gonna not pull off whatever she was thinking she was doing, Tommy had already mostly agreed to help. After all, Chim did save his life and he had a lot of respect for Hen too.

Then, Chim arrived with two firefighters in tow. They both looked the part, strong and sturdy kind of guys. Attractive, though Tommy tried not to notice that type of thing while at work and most definitely about colleagues. It wasn’t until they had gotten nearer that Tommy got a better look at them, a better look at his soulmate.

Tommy had never known that he would ever replicate the feeling of flying while on solid ground, but if asked to describe it later, that was what it felt like when his eyes landed on his soulmate right before he paused mid-step and almost lost his balance. He didn’t even know his name.

Chim was giving him a more in depth explanation about the cruise ship and storm and Hen’s part in it, but while Tommy could hear him, he couldn’t process the information. He led them to the helicopter, glad it was already out on the tarmac and that it had been refueled just a few hours earlier.

“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”

“That would require I knew who exactly I was allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said, sure that if he didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t get to know his soulmate’s name.

“Eddie Diaz,” the one that wasn’t his soulmate said, reaching his hand out for Tommy to shake.

“I’m Evan Buckley.”

Evan. Tommy repeated it inside his head. Evan.

They didn’t shake hands like he and Eddie had, and Tommy had heard how shaky his voice sounded. He also didn’t miss the slight pink on Evan’s cheeks. It was horrible timing. He could see the shock and awe in Evan’s face, but it was going to have to wait. So Tommy did the thing where he pushed aside the personal to focus on his job. He got Hen to the helicopter where the others were already stashed and then they were in the air.

Tommy had been flying for so long that his focus didn’t need to be on it 100% of the time. It let him linger on the moment from earlier, what it had been like to see Evan Buckley for the very first time. He held onto that moment as they flew, even as he realized that what they were doing verged more on the dangerous and reckless side than anything he’d ever done. He had to get them through it, even when he had to make awful fake static noises at the chief and ignore his orders to get back to Harbor.

In the end, it all worked out.

They found the cruise ship and they were lucky they did, none of them talked about how easy it would have been for them to miss it. It was hours of work after that, not that Tommy minded. Eventually, he made a final trip to pick up Bobby, the kid he’d rescued, and Eddie and Evan.

Evan wound up up front and maybe it was presumptuous to think about how good Evan looked right there at his side. Tommy hoped it would happen again and soon. With the skies having cleared up, the sun shone through and in the moments that Tommy allowed himself to take Evan in, there was no denying how gorgeous this boy was especially when the light hit him just right.

With everything going on, they didn’t get more than a small moment to acknowledge it once they were on the ship and Tommy felt warm because it was real. He had a soulmate.

It wasn’t until he was back at Harbor that he realized he hadn’t exchanged numbers with Evan — not that it was a big deal. He’d just have to call Chim. Yet, as much as there was an urgency, Tommy was still at work and he still had to write up a report about the night and explain to his Captain exactly what had gone down before he could finally end his shift.

He texted Chim as he walked to his car almost an hour later, but got no response. When his phone did start vibrating, it was an unknown number. He picked up at once, heart in his throat because it had to be Evan.

“Hello,” he said and hoped he sounded normal.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s Eddie.”

He tried not to be disappointed, but of course he was. It was nothing against Eddie…it was just that he wanted to hear from Evan.

“Got your number from Chim. I hope it’s okay I’m calling. I was just wondering if you’d want to meet up sometime,” Eddie said.

For one very strange moment, Tommy wondered if Eddie was trying to ask him out. He probably had no idea that he and Evan were soulmates and…but, no, he didn’t think that Eddie had seemed interested in him like that. Tommy did wonder if it would be rude to ask Eddie for Evan’s number. He missed something that Eddie said, but caught:

“....drinks or something. Maybe as a thank you for helping us get to Bobby and Athena.”

“Uh, sure,” Tommy said.

“Cool. Cool. How about later tonight?”

Tommy wasn’t great at saying no to things. He also had no reason to put Eddie off. “Yeah…yeah that sounds good. And if you want to invite anyone else from the 118 that’d be great.”

Eddie chuckled. “I think they’re all pretty beat. It might just be us two, unless you want to bring along a friend or something.”

Tommy wanted to ask about Evan. He wanted nothing more than to beg Eddie to bring Evan along. Knew if he did he would be giving away what they were or even just his interest in Evan. He couldn’t do that.

“I’ll text you when and where,” Eddie said. “Just gotta secure a babysitter.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “Sounds good.”

Chim still hadn’t answered. Tommy texted Hen next. No response. Maybe it would be Eddie that would give him Evan’s number…Tommy would just have to show up for that hang out and get the number out of Eddie. Or maybe, Evan would call him first. He hadn’t known that this was going to be complicated and actually it kind of wasn’t, it was that he was impatient.

Tommy managed a nap out of sheer exhaustion. He’d learned a long time ago how to sleep almost anywhere, which didn’t change that sometimes he just couldn’t sleep. Yet, despite not having contact with Evan, there was peace in knowing he was out there and knowing that he was his soulmate.

Evan didn’t call. Chim and Hen didn’t respond. Eddie texted him the name of a bar that Tommy knew well. Some of the guys from Harbor liked going there to play pool. They also had Karaoke night every Wednesday night and trivia on Thursdays. Maybe he knew a little bit too much about that bar. So, he texted back a thumbs up and got ready to meet up with Eddie. Eddie was already at the bar when he arrived, a beer in front of him while he made small talk with the bartender. He looked relaxed, in a way that Tommy almost hadn’t expected him to be.

“Hey!” Eddie threw out. “Glad you made it.”

He took the stool next to Eddie, ordering a beer and then turning to him. “How’s it going? I was surprised to get your call.”

Eddie smiled easily. “Well after Buck turned me down for drinks, I thought maybe you were like me and needed this a bit after everything.”

He usually didn’t. Not that it wasn’t welcome. The bartender passed him his beer.

“Evan turned you down?” Tommy asked.

“Uh…yeah, guess he was really tired.”

“Right,” Tommy said. “It was a long night.”

A longer night than Eddie knew. Tommy took a gulp of his beer and tried to figure out a way for him to keep the conversation on Buck…Evan. He was Evan to Tommy especially knowing that everyone else seemed to use the nickname.

“Well Bobby is kind of like a father to Buck, so even though he didn’t show it…he was really worried.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “It’s actually like a family over there.”

“You could say that,” Eddie said with a smile. “I guess it wasn’t that when you were at the 118?”

“Farthest thing from it,” Tommy said. “I guess I left right before things changed.”

He had never once regretted leaving when he did. Tommy had always meant to get back in the air. It was where he was freest and the thing he missed the most after leaving the army. So, when he had completed the required years as a firefighter, Tommy had started looking for a transfer to any of the air operation stations. His experience as a pilot helped, and he’d found a place where he belonged. He felt freer than he ever had and it had allowed him a brand new start. One in which he could explore parts of himself he hadn’t ever thought he would.

“I should say I’m sorry you missed out, but I’m sure you love what you do.”

“I do,” Tommy said.

If there was one thing, it was Evan. Would he have met him earlier if he stayed? Of course there was no changing the past. There was also who Tommy had been then and Tommy could admit to himself that he hadn’t been ready for a soulmate, much less Evan.

Eddie drew the conversation in another direction. They started exchanging stories then. Stories about their time at the army which led into conversations about what it was like to return to a civilian life. It was hard, Tommy knew, to talk about it with regular people that hadn’t served and hadn’t seen the things they had. It was clear almost right away that Eddie didn’t have anyone to talk to about stuff like that. Tommy did still have a few friends from back then, but they weren’t all that close anymore. He figured it was exactly why Eddie had reached out.

Past that, though, they had other things in common and it wasn’t that Tommy forgot about Evan — he was always there in his mind — it was that Tommy found himself having a good time with Eddie. They got talking basketball when the scores of a game were being reported on the tv, and when an ad for a MMA fight came on Eddie made a comment about how he missed going to see fights live.

“Shift ran late when tickets went on sale,” Eddie said. “Didn’t even get a chance to try and get at them.”

“I have tickets for this one,” Tommy said.

“I hate you right now,” Eddie said, but he said it with a grin.

He hadn’t bought them. A buddy of his had asked if Tommy wanted to go and then because he was a promoter, given him the two tickets. Tommy had meant to ask someone from Harbor if they wanted to go with him, but he’d forgotten.

“Hey, you want to go with me?”

“What? Wait, are you serious, man?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was gonna go to waste, so why not? Fight’s in Vegas. I can probably fly us there.”

Eddie’s grin grew wider. “Hell yeah, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You just made my night, man. This is awesome.”

They talked MMA fighting for a while and he could tell that Eddie had probably dabbled in it a bit.

“So,” he said two beers in. “Is this the norm for you and Evan? Going out after a shift?”

“When my kid allows,” Eddie said. “Half the time we’re at my house or his apartment with Chris. Marisol’s gotten used to it.”

“Marisol?”

“My girlfriend,” Eddie said.

“Ah. And uh, what about his…partner?”

Tommy braced himself. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that Evan would be involved with someone. It was one of those things that you heard about, people that were happily in a relationship and suddenly one of them met their soulmate. It wasn’t like most people were out there waiting for their soulmate convinced that it was something that would actually happen.

Eddie laughed. “He broke up with his last girlfriend a little while ago. She was a death doula if you can believe that’s a real thing.”

“I can’t actually,” Tommy said. “But clearly it didn’t work out.”

“Nope,” Eddie said. “He has the worst luck.”

“Maybe that’s changing,” Tommy said.

The conversation shifted again somehow and Tommy couldn’t ask more questions about Evan without giving away that he was looking for information on him. Tommy didn’t want to tell Eddie about Evan being his soulmate, not without first speaking to Evan. He did garner that Eddie and Evan were close, but despite trying several times, didn’t manage to finangle a way to ask for Evan’s phone number.

He felt a little bit pathetic. After all, who met their soulmate — a rarity in itself — and then not insist on taking a moment to talk even in spite of the circumstances? Insist on exchanging numbers?

By the time he made it home, a little buzzed from the beer, he realized that somehow he’d made lots of plans to hang out with Eddie and none with Evan. He was a mess.

Tagging anyone that interacted with my update posts as I was writing : @houseofevanbuckley @derie-n @medieshanachie @honeyscovet @bella1606 @youreademonroyce @alexguerinss @jehdogg @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @worriedbisexual @olivria @seylaaurora @hepbaestus @superlock-in-the-tardis @classical-memeician @kinard-buckley @keepingmyoptionsfluid @therawrliveson @geekwarrior107 @wolfy1901 @urboimiles @dancerfourlife98 @dandelioncasey @a-simple-space-gay @sarania189

#911 abc #911 fic #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #soulmate au #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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wolfythewitch · 7 months

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rip diomedes and achilles charms, i could not afford all 7 with my pay rate two had to go </3

anyways guess who ordered Multiple Charms and will be ordering a shirt once i Get Money Again. vibrating at completely normal speeds because of this btw <3 very apt that im doing this right after rehearsal for the aristophanes play im stage managing for (clouds, we did frogs last year)

Omg thank you!!

#the blaze empress #wolfy tedtalks

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chaoticgo · 13 days

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Just a 'J' Really - Chap 4: Aristophanes Got It Wrong

CW: none

Summary: Aziraphale visits Heaven to discover more Clues and runs into the Metatron. Crowley remembers a much more positive memory of him and Aziraphale.

Premise: What if Crowley was Archangel Jophiel before sauntering vaguely downwards? Aziraphale and Jophiel (angel!Crowley) Before the Beginning and post-series 2. This is a chaptered fic with lots of humor, fluff, action, and light angst which will have smut in future chapters. Chapter 3 is the longest chapter so far, so it's a great time to start reading! Read the whole thing on AO3.

Excerpt from Chapter 4:

When their lips met, Jophiel felt a zing flow through his entire being that seemed even stronger than all their previous kisses. It never failed to fill him with wonder that this gentle angel could have such a profound effect on him. Their lips slotted together and Aziraphale’s tongue darted out, licking Jophiel’s lower lip. Jophiel felt part of himself melt a little and he surrendered even more of himself to the kiss, opening his mouth and allowing Aziraphale to taste him. As he allowed his mouth to be explored, he basked in the sensation and the low moan Aziraphale let out, as if he was tasting the most delicious thing in all of Her creation. The sound and vibration of that moan increased the heat Jophiel felt tenfold and he snaked his tongue along Aziraphale’s, their tongues pressing against one another, hungrily tasting each other while their hands began to roam up and down one another’s back. Keep reading on AO3.

Thank you to dbacklot99, GaiasEyes , and Taraiha!

@goodomensafterdark

#good omens after dark #good omens fanfic #ao3 fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley was an archangel #crowley was jophiel

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firsttarotreader · 3 months

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The character sounds a little bit like Pedro.

"In "After Aristophanes' Frogs," Dionysus is a central character and the protagonist of the play. Dionysus is the Greek god of wine, fertility, and theater, among other things. He is often depicted as a wild and unpredictable deity, embodying the dualities of chaos and order, ecstasy and madness.

In this play, Dionysus is portrayed as a somewhat bumbling and naive figure, but with a deep passion for the arts and a desire to rejuvenate the state of Athenian theater. He is determined to bring back the great playwright Euripides from the underworld in order to revitalize the creative spirit of the city.

Dionysus embarks on a journey to the underworld, facing various challenges and obstacles along the way. Despite his flaws and shortcomings, he is ultimately a well-intentioned character who is willing to take risks and make sacrifices for the greater good of the arts.

Throughout the play, Dionysus is portrayed with a combination of humor, wit, and vulnerability, making him a complex and engaging character for audiences to follow and root for as he navigates the trials and tribulations of his quest."

https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/365917538486804989/

https://i.pinimg.com/474x/48/7f/ae/487fae2de27c897d9915c2cd5ad4b215.jpg

https://assets.playbill.com/editorial/_defaultEnhancement/c7b66957c0c5ec9775705d18f878b7ba-oldcomedyprod460.jpg

Wow! That’s beautiful, anon, thank you! Dionysus! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

And while I was reading about him this morning, I actually thought he sounds a lot like Oberyn Martell too. Pedro was always drawn to those “free spirit” roles! 🥰🥰

#theatre #dionysus #oberyn martell #old comedy

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classicschronicles · 11 months

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Hi lovelies,

Guys. This blog. Is one years old today! Woah. Icl I’m really bad at sticking to things so the fact that we managed to get a post every week for a year is pretty cool, so thank you all :)

As it’s pride month (happy pride!!) I’ve been seeing a lot of things on Twitter celebrating queer figures from classical antiquity, and whilst there were definitely queer figures to be celebrated, I think there is a lot of misconceptions about sexuality in the ancient world (especially Greece and Rome). So today I thought it would be cool to talk about male and female sexuality in the Ancient Greece and Rome. Quick trigger warning, there are mentions of pro5tituti0n, r4pe, and sl4v3ry, so read at your own risk and please stay safe <3

Okay so just some quick things to understand. The term ‘homosexual’ wasn’t coined until the the late 19th century, and the word bisexual until 1892. In regards to Ancient Greece, it was a largely homosocial, if not ‘homosexual’.

So starting off with Ancient Greece. Potential sexual partners for men included other free men (in the realms of pederastic relationships), wives, pro5titut3s, and both male and female slaves. Pederastic relationships were the main form of homosexual relationships and it was basically a socially acceptable, educative and erotic relationship between an adult male (mid-20s to 30s) and a younger male (mid-to-late teens to early-twenties). The older lover was called the erastes (lover) and the younger was called the eromenos (beloved). The erastes had to pursue the eromenos (usually at the gym) and it was his role to provide education for the younger in the areas of politics, philosophy, rhetoric, and social customs (basically how to be a good citizen). In return, the eromenos would provide the erastes with sexual pleasure, but key point it wasn’t penetrative pleasure because (oh no) that would be too gay. Stupid I know, but basically penetrative s3x would, to them, make one of them ‘feminine’ and in a highly highly misogynistic society that just wasn’t the done thing. But there is evidence to suggest that quite a few men ignored this social convention. For example, in Aristophanes Frogs, they mention a politicians called Cliesthenes who has broken this tradition and in Plato’s Symposium, Pausanias and Agathon. Anyways! The erastes was chosen for his beauty, so the more beautiful you were the better erastes, and therefore education, you would receive. It is really important to note that for the erastes, this wasn’t allowed to be his primary sexual relationship, in that it was expected of him to be married and that his primary relationship was for the purpose of childbirth. Another partner for men in Ancient Greece was was pro5titut3s, and there were two levels of this. The first was the pornoi, who were ‘street workers’ and were slaves (male or female) owned by br0th3l owners. The second levels was the hetairai who were highly educated female courtesans, a mix of free women and slaves, and were primarily seen at drinking parties.

There is little that is know about the sexual partners of women in Ancient Greece but its largely agreed that women could only have male/female relations with their husbands, but as long as it didn’t get in the way of having children, they could also engage in relations with other women. Sappho’s works suggest that this was often the case before marriage.

In Ancient Rome, the potential sexual partners for men included their wives, infames (male or female), slaves (male or female) and extra marital affairs. So starting off with infames, this was a person- that because of their profession) had no legal status in Rome (so actors, gladiators etc…). Because of the focus on the active and passive members of the relationships, the free man always had to be the ‘active’ and the infames the ‘passive’. Generally when it came to homosexuality, romans did not have pederasty and if a roman man wanted to have sex with another man they could as long as they weren’t the passive one, because if a freeman was the passive one it would damage his virtus. Again, like in Ancient Greece, this wasn’t a mans primary relationship and he is still expected to have a wife for the purpose of childbirth. Because of this, relations with male slaves became popular and the term ‘puer delicatus’ (delicate boy) was often applied to slave boys brought specifically for this purpose. Similarly to Ancient Greece, it was encouraged for men to have relations with pro5titut3s and exploit household slaves. Adultery was, however, outlawed but the Lex Julia. BUT, this was hugely hugely unpopular and historian Gaius Suetonius described the reaction as ‘open revolt’. This suggests that extramarital affairs were accepted and popular. Ovid literally has a whole book about pursuing married women and succeeding, which tells you all that it needs to.

In regards to women in Ancient rome, there again isn’t a lot that is known. But Ars Amortia book 3 suggests that women did have extramarital affairs and some form of sexual liberty.

In all, heteronormativity wasn’t as enforced in the ancient world because, in all honesty, they cared more about who took on the ‘feminine’ role, and so their sexual liberty didn’t come from acceptance, but straight up misogyny. Also I read this really fascinating thing that basically said that in todays world where we enforce heteronormativity, we can’t assume that everyone who says they’re straight, is in fact straight. In the same way, to the ancient world where (and forgive my use of modern terminology) homosexuality was expected, you can’t assume that everyone who said they were ‘homosexual’ or ‘bisexual’ actually was. Sexuality has, and always will be, flexible and diverse and deeply fascinating and so you can’t enforce labels on the ancient, or indeed modern, world. It’s fluid and whatever you want it to be, but either way, I hope you all found this interesting!

Thanks for sticking with my awful ramblings for the last year, I love you all loads, and I hope you all have a lovely rest of your weekend <33

#classical studies #dark acamedia #pride 2023 #pride #happy pride 🌈#classics #greek mythology #ancient rome #roman mythology #ancient greece #ancient world #history #hellenic deities #patrochilles #tagamemnon #greek history #roman history #sexuality #gay

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verdantlyviolet · 1 year

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Aristophanes’ Charitable Hekate

This is not written to convince anyone one way or the other, but as a presentation of fact based on Aristophanes’ play Plutus for me to refer back to.

Ask Hecate whether it is better to be rich or starving; she will tell you that the rich send her a meal every month and that the poor make it disappear before it is even served.

That is the line that starts it all. This is the proof touted that Hekate’s Deipnon is an act of charity and that she is a goddess concerned with such things.

Aristophanes’ Plutus was produced in 388 BCE near the end of the man’s life. It is said to be more of an allegory and lacks the usual level of comedy and banter seen in his earlier known works.

This play follows post-war Athens and the poverty and economic impact in the city, as poor man Chremylus and his slave return from Delphi with instructions from Apollon; convince the first person he sees on the road to come home with him as his guest. This guest is Plutus, Wealth, depicted as a beggar blinded by Zeus so he cannot tell the just from the unjust, the worthy from the unworthy, and so the world’s wealth is distributed at random. Chremylus is convinced that if they can restore Plutus’ eyesight, the world will be a better place with wealth distributed fairly amongst all people. At home Chremylus argues with another of his “guests”, Penia, Poverty, who asserts that through poverty she makes mankind better, and if wealth were distributed fairly none would work.

But if your wishes were realized, your profit would be great! Let Plutus recover his sight and divide his favours out equally to all, and none will ply either trade or art any longer; all toil would be done away with. Who would wish to hammer iron, build ships, sew, turn, cut up leather, bake bricks, bleach linen, tan hides, or break up the soil of the earth with the plough and garner the gifts of Demeter, if he could live in idleness and free from all this work?

Chremylus chides her and says slaves will do the work, but Poverty maintains that if slaves can buy their freedom with wealth, who is left? “The beggar […] never possesses anything. The poor man lives thriftily and attentive to his work: he has not got too much, but he does not lack what he really needs.” “Oh! what a happy life, by Demeter!” Chremylus says, “To live sparingly, to toil incessantly and not to leave enough to pay for a tomb!”

And so Poverty continues to convince Chremylus of her virtues, but he is not swayed and banishes her. They deliver Plutus to the healing beds of Asklepios where his eyesight is restored and blessings begin to flow, the poor thanking Wealth for their good fortune and the rich complaining of their losses. One man approaches who complains of his new woes, and another comments “I think I know what's the matter. If this man is unfortunate, it's because he's of little account and small honesty; and indeed he looks it too.” Interesting how the insults typically used against the impoverished are so easily repeated when a man, now proven unwise and unjust by Plutus’ new world order, seeks help.

Eventually Hermes visits to tell them of Zeus’ anger, that the gods no longer receive their dues because man is too rich.

Since Plutus has recovered his sight, there is nothing for us other gods, neither incense, nor laurels, nor cakes, nor victims, nor anything in the world.

Hermes bargains with Chremylus’ former slave Cario for a place in the man’s house, because now “one is much better off among you.”

Hermes: Do you forget, then, how I used to take care he knew nothing about it when you were stealing something from your master? Cario: Because I used to share it with you, you rogue; some cake or other always came your way. Hermes: Which afterwards you ate up all by yourself. Cario: But then you did not share the blows when I was caught.

The play’s commentary on the human condition is astute, but as you can see it only mentions Hekate once in passing, and this is the only surviving reference to such things associated with Hekate. That Deipnon offerings were often stolen was a well known fact, but does not stand as an endorsement on its own, and even Hermes is shown saying all offerings were often eaten up by those that made them, even the poor and enslaved themselves. This play leans more toward Plouton’s concern for the condition of man and his inability to do more for the just and worthy. Hekate’s modern association with charitable work is so ingrained it may as well be true.

🥚🐟🧄

Aristophanes Plutus

#Hekate #Aristophanes #text ref

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soupedepates · 26 days

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Emerens belongs to @hel-phoenyx

TW suicide mention and emotional incest

I loathe being vulnerable. I feel like I am dying. It isn't a feeling of shame, diffused, insidious, poisonous shame. I have forgotten what shame feels like. The last time I felt shame, yaya was showering me, I don't remember if I got dirty or just because she had said so. I was like, ten, perhaps? A bit old for that, but to be fair it stopped when I got sexually active and I really wanted her not to know.

It sounds so bad like that. It was mainly because my sense of hygiene was, is still, pretty bad. And she just wanted me not to catch any disease. She was always fretting about me being sick, or hurt, or whatever, she is still calling me every day to be sure I am not dead. That doesn't mean I always answer. I never do unless Aristophane is bugging me about it on the family groupchat. Or if I have over sixty missed calls. I am perhaps over a hundred today.

I lie still; I am here since yesterday, why? Emerens found me wasted on the rooftop, I was daring the devil and not caring what would happen if I fell. So he brought me at his place, probably because he wanted to feel superior, sir Van Heel wants to see a worse human waste than him. Oh, I let him the pleasure.

"Hey. You're awake", he says while throwing his backpack against the wall.

I don't have the strength to utter a word, so I give him a thumb up.

"Thanks God who doesn't exist, nobody has to clean up after your dead body. Can you imagine, someone going through your dump of a room?" Emerens laughs while opening his laptop. "#WherePapoulos is trending on the campus' twitter, since you missed Amane's class. Like, the only class you don't actively ditch."

I sigh and sit on the bed, rolled in the blanket. I reach for my phone, just to see the many notifications I've missed. Georgia has been blowing up my phone, hasn't she. I send her a text to prove me a living man.

"Anyway... You're planing to stay on mute or..."

If I talk, I would start ranting about the all-consuming emptiness, the void in my head, when it isn't a storm urging me to destroy everything around me. And you know, I loathe being vulnerable. I can not afford to be vulnerable. I text him "promise you won't tell anyone".

"Promise. First rule of the server." "I can't handle that", I whisper. "My brain can't handle that." "What. Depression? Big deal, everyone is depressed." "I am not. I can't be." "Dixit the guy that hasn't showered in days, whose primary alimentations are cigarettes and booze, and who tried to jump off the roof", he replies quickly. "Fuck you", I sigh. "I... I have been ignoring it successfully for the past month. I didn't care. It was good. Wonderful, even. It was empty, so a bit boring, and..." "That's why you've been pissing everyone off. You were ignoring your depression and you were bored." "Basically. And I wasn't feeling it, you were the one depressed, not me", I argue. "Wo-o-ow. Rude."

He giggles unsincerely. Is he really trying to lighten up the mood? That's stupid. Why does it feel nice?

"And well, yesterday, I was wasted and I needed to get rid of that weakening feeling. It had to be radical. So the rooftop. And the rest is history." "Honestly, coming from anyone else and said with this monotonous tone, it would have me really concerned. It just ridiculously makes sense with you."

I burst out laughing for the first time in weeks. A genuine laughter, not a cruel giggle after some antics of mine.

"I bought you food", he says while handing me a konbini plate. "I am not hungry..." "Do you feel dizzy?" "A bit." "Big stomachache and wanting to puke?" "Yes..." "You're hungry. So eat."

#oc #lpm #writing #tw suicide mention #i have too much feelings about their relationship #they need each other like a gaping head wound #but oh boy wouldn't you like to press the scar to feel the pain again?#tw emotional incest

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a-d-nox · 1 year

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Hi ! Can you tell me about lameia if you can please? I heard that is the Greek version of lilith so I wondered if they have the same effects in a chart, thank u have a great day/night!😊💫

lamia, the devourer (asteroid 248)

Lamia was the daughter of Belus (some say she was the daughter of Poseidon) and Lybie - both were Egyptian rulers at the time. The Classical Antiquity poet, Aristophanes, states that Lamia was a queen of Libya who captivated Zeus. Hera was not at all pleased with this coupling so she aimed to ruin Lamia. Every time that Lamia had a child, Hera arranged for the child to be killed either at Lamia's hands or someone else's. As one could imagine, Lamia started to get paranoid, unhinged, and desperate - so she started stealing babies from others... and eating them (i did say unhinged). To stop this, Zeus had Lamia pluck out her own eyes (in some versions it is Lamia who tries to pluck out her eyes and fails to do so) - Hera however cursed her with sleeplessness (it is speculated that this curse was to see future events - Lamia would be plagued with the worst of the visions often seeing the death of her children or other children around her) and convinced her to keep her eyes in a jar. Sleepless, deranged, and desperate Lamia became a troubling creature who stalked the night. Many people at the time made her into the equalivent of "the boogeyman" - telling their children that Lamia would eat them if they were bad. IN MY OPINION Lameia in your chart can represent a) where you have a fall from grace, b) where other people make you do terrible things, c) where you are desperate, d) your reputation with children, e) where you have visions of terrible things, f) insomnia, and/or g) why/where others fear you.

i encourage you to look into the aspects of lameia along with the sign, degree, and house placement. for the more advanced astrologers, take a look at the persona chart of lameia AND/OR add the other characters involved to see how they support or impede lameia!

OTHER RELATED ASTEROIDS: zeus (5731 / h42), hera (103), and aristophanes (2934)!

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my “suggest a post topic” button if you want to see a specific post or mythical asteroid next!

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#astrology #astro chart #astro community #asteroid astrology #astro placements #asteroid #natal chart #persona chart #greek mythology #zeus #asteroid5731 #lamia #asteroid248 #hera #asteroid103

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olympianbutch · 2 years

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How often should I change khernips? I keep it in a mason jar and I usually dump it out and replace the khernips every few days. Should I keep doing that or am I able to wait like a week or so or should I change it everyday? I don't want it to get like "stale" or something

Khaire, anon; thank you so much for your question! :)

For starters, khernips refers to the water used “for washing the hands” (LSJ) before a meal or outdoor sacrifice. Contrary to popular belief, khernips require no special preparation or storage:

. . . it has come to be thought that even in household practice, khernips must be somehow specially prepared, because “in sacrifices (hieropoiiai), they used to plunge a firebrand into the khernips and sprinkle it around the altar” (Hesychius δ 155). But to my knowledge, this is only attested for sacrifices at an outdoor altar, only for Classical Athens, and quite sparsely at that (namely in Euripides, Heracles 925f and Aristophanes, Peace 959). It is only one scholium that gives the underlying logic: “They thought that by plunging fire into water, they could purify it, because fire is purificatory of everything, as Euripides writes in the Heracles: ‘The son of Alcmena was bringing the torch in his right hand, to dip it into the khernips’” (Scholium on Aristophanes, Peace 959). Apparently, this ceremony already required explanation to readers of the Athenian classics in later antiquity, because it had ceased to be observed, and was not found in earlier authorities like Homer (Regarding Khernips).

Khernips are mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey—used either before a meal or during animal sacrifice—and they aren’t specially prepared: “. . . and also that he might ask him about his father that was gone. Then a handmaid brought water for the hands in a fair pitcher of gold, and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash, and beside them drew up a polished table” (1. 136), “and Aretus came from the chamber, bringing them water for the hands in a basin embossed with flowers, and in the other hand he held barley grains in a basket; and Thrasymedes, steadfast in fight, stood by, holding in his hands a sharp axe, to fell the heifer” (3. 440), “Then a handmaid brought water for the hands in a fair pitcher of gold, and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash, and beside them drew up a polished table” (4. 52), etc.

Though the practice is venerable, you don’t actually need to make and store khernips (unless you want to, of course). Personally, I simply wash my hands in the sink before I approach the gods.

I hope you find this answer helpful!

#Meleagros answers #khernips #lustral water #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic reconstructionism #hellenic paganism #hellenic pagan #hellenic revivalism #ancient Greek religion #Greek religion #hellenism #hellenismos

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lone-rhapsodist · 2 years

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A letter to Classics Tumblr

This is a blog post I wrote to talk about: 1) my university experience of academic writing; 2) my frustration with academia, especially the humanities; 3) my struggles with writing and with my mental health; 4) my experience of teaching as an environment which aims to encourage the expression of new ideas; and 5) my project to create a space for ancient studies which encourages people to share their ideas, including an outline of how it would work and how it would benefit our subject. I hope you will find this valuable. I hope you will be happy to support the project. Thank you.

When I was a university student, sometimes in essays I would write what I call ‘feel’ statements. Feel statements are statements which start with ‘I think’, ‘I feel’, ‘I believe’ etc. They are usually frowned upon in academic writing. I have checked a few writing guides before writing this blog post, and most recommend that these statements be edited like so: 1) remove ‘I feel’ etc.; 2) add evidence to back your statement up; 3) change your phrasing to make your statement sound more objective. Now, I agree that statements should as much as possible be backed up with evidence. But why remove ‘I feel’ when it is ‘I’ who feels that the statement is true? And what counts as ‘evidence’ exactly?

As I was writing essays at university, I was constantly facing one of two problems. 1) I was working too much with the original Latin or Ancient Greek text and too little with the scholarship. As a result of this, I was able to develop many original ideas but could not back them up with scholarship, since there was no scholarship discussing those ideas, and so my analysis was good, but it was not sufficiently ‘evidenced’ by scholarship. Alternatively, 2) I was working too much with scholarship, reading lots of books and articles and so on, until my ideas were basically a mash-up of all the ideas contained in the scholarship, and my engagement with the text was completely filtered through those ideas. This meant I had a very good view of the scholarly landscape, but little to no work on the text, and so my work was weak because of the lack of original thinking to support it.

I hated this so much. I hated that, if I engaged mainly with the text, my work did not have enough ‘evidence’ to back it up. But then, if I engaged mainly with the scholarship, my own analysis of the text suffered, and I could not develop the original thinking necessary to make good work. I just could not win!

It was around my third year of university that I started to lose passion for ‘originality-driven’ academic writing and started seeing it more like an exercise in style. Do some analysis of the text, include lots of scholarship, and congrats! You will impress your lectures AND get good grades! Like that is what matters. Like this isn’t all about generating new ideas, new ways of looking at the text. No, it wasn’t about trying anymore. It was about playing safe. No trial and error, God forbid you stumble upon something good and original. Nope. Just stick to the plan and you will be fine.

However, despite my best efforts, I could never get rid of feel statements in my writing. And why should I? Especially if I am making an original point. Especially if there is no evidence from previous scholarship to back it up. Of course, I am going to explain why I think this is a good point, why I believe the evidence in the text itself supports this point, why I feel like this should be regarded as a valid interpretation of the text. But if you are just going to shut me down by claiming that there is no scholarship to support my statement, I am sorry, that is not my fault.

Folks, I wrote my undergraduate dissertation on Aristophanes. I read every single book in the university library about Aristophanes. I know because I was also Library Champion for Classics at the university, and I ended up ordering a lot of books on Aristophanes and Old Comedy just because our university did not have some of the most important scholarly works on either. I read so much that I knew what our library had was not enough, and I asked for more! I even went to another university library to consult some of the works we did not have in our own library, just so I could use them for my dissertation.

And yet… it still wasn’t enough! I was making some very original points about the texts, about the plays themselves, but there was no scholarship to back them up! I ended up writing so many feel statements, just because I had no other way to support my ideas from previous scholarship. I mean, actual scholars, people who dedicated their lives to studying this stuff, did not see what I saw! How is that my fault? How is that their fault? It’s no one’s fault!

There was no fault with what I was doing. The fault was with the system which did not approve of what I was doing. Academia. The humanities. The writing guides. All of these things. Yet what I was doing was simply working on the text and developing my ideas from there. Because this is what you do in the humanities. You sit down with the text and you go from there. And if you are reading Aristophanes, yes there is a lot of factual information, yes there is a lot of context, but at the end of the day, it’s just you and the mighty beast that is Old Comedy. You can read all the scholarship in the world, but in the end, you need to face the text. And if you face the text first, you will come up with a thousand original ideas, but if you read the scholarship first, you won’t. So, which one do you think you should start first? The text. The text. It’s always the text.

But then, if you always start from the text, you will find it difficult to fit your original ideas into the scholarly landscape, and you will write ‘I feel’ a lot, and your work will not be deemed good enough, and you will struggle. And sometimes, you will struggle so much, you will have a mental breakdown. And you will tell your doctor. You will tell your family. You will tell your department. And you will get a big, long extension for all your remaining assignments and end up submitting your master’s dissertation six weeks late.

That’s me. That is what happened to me. I had a breakdown and I finished my master’s late. And now, I struggle with writing. Massively. And every time I try to write, either about my subject, academia, or my university experience, one of three things happen: 1) I feel like throwing up; 2) I have a mini-depressive episode in which I feel so debilitated I had to lie down and sleep for an hour; or 3) I actually write something, like I am doing now, as in some kind of ADHD-induced hyper-focus fever dream, and the result was is usually so messy I never dare to post it.

But now… I can’t do this anymore. I am 27. I finished my master’s four years ago. By every measure but my own, I am a successful professional entering his third year as a teacher. Yet I just… cannot let it go. I cannot accept that this happened to me. Most importantly, I cannot accept that this is only my fault. I cannot accept that I was made to feel so insecure about my work that I actually wanted to end it all, and I nearly did! Mind you, I do accept that some of it is my fault. I definitely put too much pressure on myself. I was so worried I was going to disappoint my family and my lecturers that I showed no kindness to myself. Also, a lot of bad stuff happened all at once. Financial problems in my family. My girlfriend and I broke up. My dog died. It was basically a perfect storm. But the system… I cannot absolve the system. The system has its faults. And it does in this story too.

Every time I see a writing guide which discourages students from using feel statements… every time I see academics do the same, claiming that students’ work is too rushed, or even that they are being anti-academic or anti-intellectual… I am sorry, but what the fuck. And this is happening in the humanities. A discipline which is famously based on one’s own interpretation of the sources. I can understand if a student did not do enough work on the text, or enough reading around a topic, but if they did, and they came up with an original idea about it, why in the world are you demanding from them that they rephrase their ‘I feel’ statements into something more objective-sounding? How? If there is no scholarship which supports their statement, because no one else has thought of that idea before, how can they possibly back it up with that sort of evidence? Surely, they can use the text for that. I mean, that is where their idea came from in the first place. What? That’s not enough? What is your problem?

What do you think people did at the beginning of scholarship? Did they not come up with original ideas themselves, supported by their own analysis of the text? Didn’t they use the text to explain why they believed their ideas were valid, and perhaps add any other scholarly evidence, if they had any? But if they didn’t, what would they write? ‘I think’. ‘I feel’. ‘I believe’. Those were the words. If not those words exactly, something similar. But that is the way new ideas were formulated. And it has been more or less so up to the 1960s, until someone decided we needed to go all scientific and devoid of any human emotion. Because after all it’s the humanities we are talking about. Why be human about it?

So yes, feel statements used to be good for a while, but we don’t that anymore, God forbid we accidentally stumble upon something original that isn’t backed up by at least two scholarly citations. It’s ridiculous. And it’s even more ridiculous when you realise that academics today do still use feel statements in their work! Full professors do it, and they allow themselves to, because they know a lot about their subject, and so they reserve themselves the right to feel things from time to time. But even regular lecturers do it! There was this great article I read recently titled “Research: It Starts with a Feeling”, and subtitled “Can we talk about our feelings, hunches, or instinct about our research openly?”. Yes, we can! Of course, we can! That is the whole freaking point! So why in the world are we sitting here actively discouraging students from using feel statements in their work, and in the humanities of all disciplines!?

I guess because we are afraid. Because we know that, in the humanities in particular, true objectivity is a myth. We know that, as much as we have knowledge and we try to evidence our statements, they’re still ‘our’ statements, and in that lies our humanity. And we are worried about looking human, in the humanities of all disciplines. Because our discipline is constantly under attack in this capitalist world, where knowledge is all about power, and not pursued for its own sake. And if the people who run the world realise that there is still humanity in the humanities, they’ll pull the plug on funding. They’ll kill the humanities, and with it, humanity. And so here we are. Trying to make it all sound more objective. Feeding the narrative that there is an objective truth out there, we just have to find it.

Well, you know what’s also out there? People. People who know stuff. People who have ideas about stuff. And if we all sat down and talked with each other, perhaps we would reach some kind of collective knowledge, together. Perhaps we would realise how stupid it is to think that true, objective knowledge of this world lies outside of it, and how it makes so much more epistemological sense that knowledge is a combination of all the facts as well as all our thoughts, beliefs, interpretations, experiences and what not. Then, we could finally allow ourselves to just sit down with each other, feel vulnerable, and say what we feel. And sure, there needs to be some knowledge behind those statements. And there needs to be some evidence to back those feelings up. But why not give people a chance? Why not let people be human? In the humanities!

If someone asked me what that would look like in practice, I would think of my experience as a teacher. One time, I was introducing my students to a passage from Ovid in which he talks about an (alleged) sorceress called Dipsas. Dipsas was trying to end the relationship between Ovid and his girlfriend, but that was just the context of the poem. However, the passage we were studying was all about Dipsas’ (alleged) wondrous powers. One of her powers was the ability to “split open the ground with a solid spell”. Well, one of my students came up with the genius idea that the chasm Dipsas was (allegedly) able to create with her powers could possibly be representative of the ‘chasm’ she was also trying to create between Ovid and his girlfriend. I was AMAZED! I had never thought of that. The commentary notes from Cambridge made no mention of it either. And it just made so much damn sense! It was even right at the end of the passage, clearly foreshadowing what was going to happen in the rest of the poem. And this was from a student at her third ever Latin poem in her life! No previous knowledge, barely any context, just… pure intuition!

My experience of teaching has shown me that, when you create an environment which encourages people to share how they feel about something, they come up with amazing ideas, interpretations you would never have thought of, even ‘hot takes’ which can change your perspective on something entirely. This is the sort of stuff which I would love to see more of in academia… but I do not think it will ever happen. Sure, there will always be seminars with fun lecturers who will encourage students to look for this sort of stuff. For example, I once had a lecturer compare Juvenal’s verses with Eminem’s lyrics, and it was fantastic! But there are not that many academics who do things like that, and again, it’s more for fun than anything else.

I wish more academics were more open about their approach to their subject. I wish they would share more about how, for all their knowledge and intellect, they are still driven by feeling, by passion, by their soul as well as their mind. To be fairer to academics, I wish academia itself, especially the humanities, was more open in this respect. I wish the system could be changed, that the vulnerabilities could be shared, that a conversation could be started about how to make things better, together. But, again, I am not sure it will ever happen.

So, fuck it. I’ll say it first, if no one has said it before. I believe that feel statements should be allowed in academic writing in the humanities. I believe that, if you have good knowledge of a topic, you will have feelings about it, and insofar as your knowledge of the topic is correct, and there is no clear evidence contradicting your statements on a topic, then your feelings should be regarded as valid and should be taken seriously by others.

That’s the project, folks. That is what it’s all about. If you have some knowledge of a topic and you have certain feelings about it, you should be able to share them in a safe space, where others can read them, appreciate them, and give you feedback and advice on how to develop your ideas further. This is the space which I want to create with my project. I want it to be welcoming and encouraging. I want people in it to be kind and supportive. I want to give people the opportunity to put forward their ideas anonymously if they do not wish to reveal their identity at first. And I want others to be able to give constructive criticism in structured, time-stamped, informed discussions which can easily be archived and saved for future reference.

This space would be open to people of any ethnicity, gender and sexuality. Ideally, I would like anyone, literally anyone to be in it, from researchers to PhDs to graduates to university students to high schoolers to enthusiasts of any age or background, whatever their education level or knowledge of the ancient world, I do not care! It would be about ancient studies (which is a better name for Classics), and it would be about the ancient people, literature, history and culture of anywhere in the ancient world, defined as you prefer.

Honestly, I would put no limits to whatever we can talk about in this space. It would be a Discord server, but it would be run like a forum. There would be a general chat for casual conversation, and specifically created channels for dedicated discussions, with moderation as necessary. There would also be voice channels for live discussions and potentially live community events. Of course, like for any community, there would still be rules. Like, don’t be an asshole. Don’t be a Nazi. Don’t misappropriate the ancient past to support your extremist ideas. Also, fuck TERFs.

But also, please do not perpetuate in your interactions with others any of the awful academic practices which we are trying to move away from with this project. For example, the principle of authority. The principle of authority states that we must always accept the opinion of an authority on a given topic, without any possibility for criticism, on account of the fact that, since they are an authority on that topic, their opinion must be regarded as superior. It’s Galileo Galilei vs the Aristotelians all over again, folks. And it’s wild. So yeah. Don’t just claim that because one scholar said something, then a person’s opinion is invalid. Especially if they have evidence to back it up. Like their own analysis of the text. Or the opinion of other scholars. In general, please do not perpetuate that stifling traditionalism which we are trying to get away from.

So yeah. This is the project. To create a space, a Discord server, where people can share their ideas about anything related to the ancient world, and get support and advice from others to develop their ideas further into whatever they like, be it an academic paper or a research proposal, or even just a blog post. But it doesn’t need to be just non-fiction or writing. I would love for this space to be a place for creative writers as well. I would love to see poetry, prose, whether stories or fan fiction, blossoming from it, even other media, such as art, comics, music, videos, podcasts etc. I mean, this is a place for people who feel things about the ancient world. Surely the feelers par excellence, the artists, should be involved in a project like this.

I once asked a scholar of ancient drama whether it would be important for future researchers on this topic to seek further collaboration with artists in their work. He answered with a resounding ‘yes’. I never stopped thinking about that. I never stopped thinking about what he essentially said: that an artist, through their interpretation of an ancient work, can offer an expert on that same work a perspective which even they, for all their knowledge, could not have thought of. Just like my student did, with her brilliant comment about that poem by Ovid. Anyone who has a passion, an enthusiasm, a willingness to learn about the ancient world, has 100% the potential to make an outstanding contribution to our wonderful subject. These people are out there, and they are desperate for a place to ask their questions, share their feelings, and put forward their ideas. I really hope this project can do something to help towards that. I hope you will be happy to support it.

I hope that you will not think of this project as being anti-academic or anti-intellectual. If you do, I am sorry about that. I welcome your feedback on this matter. Also, if I have shared with you my story, it’s because I wanted to explain the reasons behind my frustration with academia, especially the humanities, and how that has fuelled as my passion for this project. It will be a long journey to turn this idea from fantasy into a reality, into a community. But I do believe that, with your support, this could be something truly amazing for our subject. Beyond academia, and back to our humanity. Thank you and stay human.

lone-rhapsodist

#lone-rhapsodist #personal #classics #tumblr #project #writing #academia #humanities #mental health #tagamemnon #tagitus #ancient studies #ancient world

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