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growing up, alec was in love with a boy.

this boy came into his life unexpectedly. his parents took him in, after his dad died.

that’s why alec didn’t know he was in love. he thought he felt more pity.

alec thought it was normal to be willing to give up anything for this boy, because who wouldn’t?

alec figured the way he felt void after releasing this boy from a hug was because he felt sorry for him.

then this boy became his parabatai.

alec knew about parabatai.

alec knew this was his brother in battle.

alec knew he was his other half.

so this made his feelings for this boy normal, right?

and then, his sister came home and talked about her first crush.

izzy rambled about this boy for almost an hour.

izzy talked about his eyes, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, his physique, his clothes, anything she could think of.

thats when alec noticed.

everything isabelle felt and noticed about her crush, alec felt and noticed about his parabatai.

alec tried to stop. he really did.

over the years, he tried to push this idea out of his head.

and then, a fierce redhead came into their story.

instead of the fighting group of three, it became four.

instead of being alec, jace and izzy; it became alec, izzy, jace and clary.

alec’s parabatai began to notice things about clary that alec had noticed about him so many years back.

and so, alec tried even harder.

alec was so desperate to forget the way jace’s hair fell to one side, or the way his eye transitioned from blue to brown.

thats what led alec to the high warlock of brooklyn.

magnus bane, a downworlder, a warlock.

magnus bane, who could be viewed as an enemy from alec’s kind if he even so looked at someone wrong.

alec noticed the warlock, and the warlock noticed him.

but alec had to make sure he was doing best by his family.

sure, magnus had brown eyes that reminded alec of home, and always wore nail polish that was pristinely painted and matched whatever magnus was wearing.

alec couldn’t notice, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but to notice.

alec decided he needed to marry. he needed to marry lydia.

everyday, alec said it was for his family’s name.

everyday, alec thought of the gorgeous warlock and his offer to ‘get a drink sometime soon’

and then the wedding came.

not the wedding alec wanted, but the wedding alec told himself he needed.

but there was a twist.

the downworlder that everyone secretly thought should be with alec (especially simon), showed up.

this changed the story.

this changed alec.

this changed everything.

happy birthday to brooke, my best friend, my favorite person to cuddle, and probably the most passionate snk fan i have ever met; thank you for everything that you do.

i present a condensed version of an idea i’ve been toying with. more to come later on. enjoy <3


Erwin jolts awake. His heart beats so loudly he wonders if Levi will startle awake and pull a pillow over his ears while telling Erwin to stop being so noisy, I’m trying to sleep, all mock-irritation in his voice because usually it’s a fart that wakes him; but when he glances down Levi isn’t there, his bed is empty, and he is alone, surrounded on all sides by oppressing darkness that does little to assuage the cacophony of discordant thoughts swirling through his head.

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Polish Queer women of the 19th and early 20th century - voices silenced (by themselves?)

I’ve been reading up on queer history in Poland and I have some thoughts about it that I want to share. Being a bisexual woman myself, I want to know what it used to be like for people like me and why is the current situation so shitty compared to Western Europe in particular?

First of all, homosexuality was decriminalised in Poland as early as 1932, which was not common in Europe and probably most of the world at the time. The fact that there were no penal consequences for homosexual behaviour perhaps sheds light on the legal situation of queer folk in Poland and social attitudes towards homosexuality. I mean, I suppose it worked along the lines of “I won’t go to jail for this so it’s kinda ok, it could be way worse”. But this only led, most probably, to social invisibility, even more jarring than now (now the LGBTQIAP+ community in Poland has a lot going on in terms of fight for civil rights! it’s still kinda shitty, though). No one knows what would have happened, had there not been a communist People’s Republic of Poland after 1945. Would there have emerged a gay liberation movement? The interwar period certainly had its flaws but it definitely wasn’t the police state that Poland became after WWII.

Anyways, I could probably go on and on about it but in such case I should back up my thoughts with some sources and more research, for which I don’t really have time.

However, I wanted to share something else as well. Lesbians in communist Poland were pretty invisible (see: Krzysztof Tomasik’s “GEJEREL: Mniejszości seksualne PRL-u” and chapter 7: “Czy istniały lesbijki?”, which translates into “Did lesbians exist?” - doesn’t that sum the whole thing up?) but homosexual (and probably also bisexual) women in the pre-war (both WWI and WWII) era were almost untraceable as they expertly blotted out any traces of their otherness which would have been subject to slander and libel at the time. I’ve been reading about Maria Konopnicka and Maria Rodziewiczówna and what I read about those two writers (Kopnicka lived in the second half of the 19th century, Rodziewiczówna was born in that time and is considered a writer of the interwar period) stands in stark contrast to what I’ve been taught at school.

You see, in Poland we seem to have a long tradition of making famous writers (artists, musicians, etc.) into bronze sculptures rather than remembering them as actual people. Chroniclers and biographers of the communist era would be partly to blame for inconsistencies and omissions in biographies as would be general social attitudes as well. However, those writers themselves made no attempt to chronicle their non-heteronormativity in any way (or at least nothing direct) as a method to avoid social stigma from their contemporaries. So apart from photographs and descriptions of them provided by third parties there is not much to go by and we can only speculate about alleged, unfortunately, lesbianism of such national icons as Konopnicka and Rodziewiczówna. 

Konopnicka was a very prolific writer and also celebrated by her contemporaries. Her poem “Rota” was a candidate for the national anthem after Poland became independent in 1918! This was huge! Rodziewiczówna was also a very prolific writer, probably her most well-known work nowadays is “The Summer of the Forest People”. She shared her life exclusively with women and she never married a man. This is what she looked like in 1911 (!):

And while Konopnicka dressed typically for her time (google her if you want), look at Maria Dulębianka, with whom Konopnicka shared most of her life (and with whom she was also buried in one grave for a short time!):

Not a very typical look for her time (2nd part of the 19th century). Dulębianka is also considered a precursor of feminism in Poland.

So, what I’m trying to say here is that these women were extremely good at hiding their true identities. I think this quote sums it up pretty well:

When asking about the relationship between Konopnicka and Dulębianka, it is to be considered whether homosexual women living in Polish territories were able to articulate their preferences and create a lesbian identity. Additionally, Konopnicka rather obsessively concealed or even misrepresented whole aspects of her life. Hiding her feelings and desires must have been her everyday reality, as she revealed: “Even to the people closest to me I write in such a way that a police officer could read this if he so desired.” Besides - even if Dulębianka and Konopnicka were not in an erotic relationship, what would this mean? It does not change the fact that it was a woman that the author of Imagina (one of Konopnicka’s books) chose as her life partner and it can be called a relationship if the people involved live and travel together. A relationship which lasted longer than the life Konopnicka shared with Jarosław, whom she officially married.

Polish original:

Pytając o relację Konopnickiej i Dulębianki, trzeba się zastanowić, czy w ogóle homoseksualne kobiety żyjące wówczas na polskich ziemiach były w stanie urefleksyjnić swoje preferencje i wytworzyć lesbijską tożsamość. Do tego u Konopnickiej można zauważyć raczej obsesyjne przemilczanie, a nawet zakłamywanie całych aspektów swojej egzystencji. Ukrywanie uczuć i pragnień musiało być jej dniem powszednim, skoro zwierzała się: “Ja nawet do najbliższych piszę tak, aby to mógł czytać p. żandarm, jeśli mu przyjdzie ochota”. Zresztą - nawet jeśli Dulębianki i Konopnickiej nie łączyła relacja erotyczna, to co miałoby z tego wynikać? Nie zmienia to faktu, że właśnie kobietę wybrała autorka Imaginy na towarzyszkę życia, a można chyba mówić o związku w przypadku osób, które razem mieszkają i podróżują. Związku, który trwał dłużej niż życie z oficjalnie poślubionym Jarosławem.

Tomasik, Krzysztof. 2014. Homobiografie. Wydawnictwo Krytyki Politycznej. ISBN 978-836-468-232-2.

So it is very sad that this is the only way we can attempt at uncovering the truth. It is incredibly tragic that these women erased their own identities, which means we can’t give them voice now and can only make guesses here and there. But I think that’s something at least. Anyway, I wanted to share these thoughts with you guys, this is by no means a scientific article or anything, just a bunch of thoughts put together.

Crazy pure internet for March 2013

1.  I try not to be but who knows what kind of hateful shit they mixed into my late capitalism baby food when I was but a real 90s kid, now I can’t remember anything but some plastic collectibles where my idiot emotions should be.  I want to love everyone but the road that brought me here was strewn with garbage and germs, who knows what I picked up on the way.  Please be my cleansing fire.

2.  This is a fly love song.  This is a fly in the ointment song.

3.  If I’m understanding correctly you are a guy and the front of the underwear would be my face, with your dick providing an elephant nose?  Not interested.  If my face had to be on someone’s underwear I would want it printed on the inside, facing in, because I am very shy.

4.  Ten, of course.

5.  I love Jodorowsky’s work, especially El Topo, Holy Mountain and the Incal…  But I made the mistake of reading the “The Spiritual Journey of Alejandro Jodorowsky”.  It’s some spiritually hateful and wrongheaded 1970s shit of the worst order.  I can’t help but see EST and Gerhard and all of that 1970s birth re-enactment and violent militaristic self-abnegation and airtight psycho-analytic roleplaying as the broken mirror of incorrect spiritual assumptions pursuing and catching incorrect answers.  The revolution of ‘68 forcing academics away from the world into deeper and more baroque exegesis, the erecting of barriers, the cognescenti defining their new theory existence by divesting themselves of human language.  While outside the psychedelic questers stopped thinking of political change, or even of a cosmos but turned inward.  Men with mustaches and emotions in hotel conference halls acting out war screams and their childhood primal existence, seeing that political change could only happen once you moved to California and focused on enemas.

And this is where the Jodorowsky book comes in.  His spiritual journey is macho horseshit about sport-fucking mysterious women and undergoing fraternity-hazing-ritual-style endurance challenges.  He finds himself studying under a Zen Buddhist monk in some strange version of Zen where there are correct answers and the only way to prove you are a man(?) is to meditate dangerously close to physical death in some evel knievel zen stunt.  Later he fucks a beautiful amazon voodoo woman who wears a green merkin and owns a panther.  Then the zen monk saves the poor Mexican farmers from starvation with soy beans, and Jodorowsky inherits all of Mexican psychic history by eating a Witch’s children(?)(psychedelic mushrooms kept in honey).  There is a tragedy to facing the mysterious, the infinite, the unknown and the unknowable, and to come back with an explanation that reads like the Dungeons & Dragons monster manual.  Anyway, the funniest part of the whole book, because of it’s icky 1970s touchy feely psychoanalytic cum spiritual idiocy is when Jodorowsky is forcibly dragged to a hotel room and (kind of) raped by the bastard daughter of G.I. Gurdjieff; this scene culminates in Gurdjeff’s daughter forcing air through her vagina and making it sing to Jodorowsky. She explains that this is a lost art that all women once knew and this is how mothers soothed their babies and wives soothed their husbands… And Jodorowsky breaks into tears and has a religious experience; this woman’s singing (farting, kind of?) pussy cures Jodorowsky of his childhood resentments towards his own mother. (I’m serious, this happens, read the book).

That said I still love Jodorowsky’s work.  I don’t give a shit about the author.  I think Mishima Yukio was an idiot, and I am glad he took his idiot life, but I love his work.  Art is better than the artist.

Rooftop Picnics

Nine/Rose, all ages

High School AU, pure fluff tbh

1552 words

Dedicated to asthewheelwills and fleurdeneuf who love high school!nine as much as I do, if not more. Hope y'all enjoy!

Rose broke into a grin when she saw John leaning against her locker. His back was to her so she quietly snuck up behind him, rose up on her tiptoes so her lips would be right next to his ear when she spoke.

“What’s up, Doc?”

He spun around so quickly she thought he was going to fall. “Very funny, Rose,” he said dryly, glaring down at his blonde friend who was doubled over with the force of her laughter. “Thought I told you to stop calling me ‘Doc.’”

“Since when have I ever listened to you?” she teased, tongue touching the corner of her smile. “Now shift, I need to get in my locker.”

John obligingly took a step back and watched her fight with the combination lock before it swung open and she started piling her books into her backpack.

“So why are you lurking at my locker anyways?” Rose glanced up and gave him a once over, “You know, besides trying to look all impressive in your new leather jacket for any girl that happens to pass by?”

John tugged on the lapels of the aforementioned jacket. “I’ll have you know that I’m very impressive, Rose Tyler.”

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Sharing.
  • Calum: “I’m cold,” you lie to Cal as you pull your arms into his sweatshirt. “And you clothes are really comfy. Mind sharing what fabric softener you use?” “You don’t have to lie about wanting to wear my clothes,” he laughs. “And you do our laundry, babe. I’d be unfit to answer that question.”
  • Ashton: “Okay, okay,” you swallow what’s left in the glass bottle and set it down. "I wanna share my best joke with you, okay?" you slur. "Just don't tell anyone." Ashton nods slowly and tries to focus on the words dripping from your tongue. "What do you get when Napoleon... Wait, no. French grenades and linoleum? No... What do you get when you throw a grenade in a French bathroom?" "What?" he asks and you burst into a fit of giggles before even trying to say the punchline: Linoleum Blown-Apart.
  • Michael: “Can we just go to Walgreens or something and get one of those two dollar ones?” you plead. You were on vacation with Michael and he had forgotten to pack your toothbrush. You thought it’d be nice to give him responsibility over the toiletries, but it completely backfired. “I love you, but I’m not sharing a toothbrush with you, Mikey.”
  • Luke: After tour, Luke always gets sick. He gets some sort of virus every single time without fail and you take care of him every single time without fail. He makes it up to you, though; Luke manages to share his illness with you and the next few days is spent taking care of you.
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Post 4x04 - Killian is a little overenthusiastic about leaving Emma voicemails. Sometimes it annoys her to no end, but other times they can be really sweet. (Fluffy!CS bc I can’t resist fluffy one shots)

(This is sort of a sequel to Thaw, which I wrote last week. But you don’t have to read that one to understand this, though I’d be pretty happy if you did.)

also on FF.net & AO3

She has seven missed calls.

Seven.

Not to mention two voicemails.

Jesus Christ, what was she thinking getting him a cell phone? (She knows what she was thinking. She couldn’t say no when he asked her so politely and she definitely couldn’t have told him he wasn’t getting a phone because she knew it would enable him to annoy her to no end) Of course, she likes hearing from him. And it’s adorable how excited he is that he can talk to her whenever he likes, regardless of where they are. (His utter glee when she answers his calls is very poorly masked) Really, it’s cute. But it’s getting to the point where it’s interfering with her everyday life.

And her phone battery life has definitely seen better days, but that’s besides the point.

She rolls her eyes and taps on her voicemail.

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