#breaking social constructs

[thehealingsystem]

occasionally I will see posts like these and I am not sure how some people still miss the point so hard

[themoonking]

honestly, as a lesbian, the "this all-female religious group has taken a solemn vow of chastity, pledging to remain virgins all their lives... so they get around it by having sex with each other 😜" trope is a red flag when written by literally anyone other than a lesbian

[undertheredhood]

broke: the lazarus pit induces psychotic rage on anyone who uses the pit as a price for being healed, and thus they cannot be held accountable for their actions while experiencing 'pit madness'

woke: the lazarus pit is trying to protect and help jason be happy, but jason is super unhinged and wants to cause problems

[ecc-poetry]

TERF WARS

I wrote JK Rowling a letter when I was a little girl, asking to play Hermione in the Harry Potter movie. The nerdy witch. Justice-monger. Shame and self-doubt had started to snake their way through me, but weren't yet my veins. It was safe then to beg boons of St. Joanne. Mother Christmas. "Miracle" wasn't a slur–hadn't she taught us to be plucked from obscurity? Hadn't she made magic real?

Unplucked, I hit high school, where despite owls and broomsticks, the reality was that I wasn't the right kind of girl: Awkward. Too smart. Too angry. My body clung to me like a slur, meanwhile Joanne SPEWed her punchlines: A witch who believes in sharing power?! I had no power. I only felt safe while shrinking. I shed baby fat like the skin of a snake,

and couldn't think who taught me the trick. My mind writhed like a snake. Hermione got a makeover to ready her for love, her worth made real. Joanne said: at my age, she could've been conned to seek a safety only gettable in the body of a boy. Not me. I was indelible. I'd die of girl before I stopped being one, like the girls who were told which they were and rebelled. Like the boys Joanne slurs

as lost girls. Joanne's three-quarter prose drowned Hermione in a slurry of girlboss: memory-muddler. Perfect prime minister. A snake licked my ears since 11, and now in the base of my brainstem, a witch peddles poisons. Joanne says the things in your head aren't real just because you know them. She says struggling. That girls are at risk of erasure, because it's un-safe–

and worse, unpopular–to be one. St. Joanne wants a safe world for women, so she causes with people who think I'm a slur. She says, "The system, surgery, easy fix, poor girls who do not conform." She parcels her tongue, snakelike, each poison pill small and swallowable. She knows 'real' lies between my legs. She thinks she is only burning witches;

but her cruelties sear me too. Don't you get it? Hurt one witch and her sisters scream. Joanne says protect, but I've never felt safe in her sanctum. I keep smelling flames. I run to my real coven, my story-slurred sisters. Joanne says that bigot's a slur, but to her it's a badge. It admits her to the parliament of snakes. All in the name of protecting 'real' girls–

Well, spare me your cherishing. My witch-womb rejects you. I pronounce your sanctimony slurred,

your safe, a stake to the heart. You think we're the same, but Joanne: I don't caucus with snakes. You made magic

once, but what you call love isn't real. It's a nuclear bomb, shedding ash through the years onto all us wicked girls.

-Elisa Chavez

(Notes and recs)

[nerdie-faerie]

Currently thinking about the last time I met up with my college friends, and we went around the table reintroducing ourselves with names and pronouns, cus it gets like that. And every time it would come around to me, I would deflect and distract instead of answering because I hadn't actually figured it out yet. It's coming up on a year since then, I still have no idea what the answer would be

[lorelune]

sometimes i am tempted to get into queer discourse on main but i abstain. shut my mouth and keep my goddamn peace <3

[trashandwriting]

People need to realize that EVERY rule you come upon (except when made by nature) is made up. There's no way of life that's "how it's supposed to be", there are just rules that people tend to follow. SOCIAL PRESSURE IS A CONSTRUCT. Break free.

[hazyla]

Got possessed by something and decided to do sewing on a weekday

[mosseaterr]

what if u checked out my track thatd be prettycool huh

[july-19th-club]

crazy how i’ve never known a time when i wasn’t masking or overperforming in order to impress adults, so for the majority of my schooling no adult in my life ever noticed there was something off about how i interpreted and interacted and that it was not easy to keep up with the pace they expected me to be at, or they willfully ignored it because some woman when i was seven had told them i was supposed to be too smart to struggle

[von-eldritch]

//honestly yho I really did think a lot about Hellsa’s relationship to gender bc... y’know... eldritch ain’t the same and I have A LOT of things I could say but the best it boils down to is just her being

‘Yeah okay I’ll be a girl so I can do it wrong and make people mad <3′

[baeshijima]

OH SHOOT WAIT LIVESTREAM IN 10 HOURS??????

[autumnleaves-andpoetry]

Hey, so sorry, so so sorry to be that person, but, mini rant about deleting certain social media platforms.

I deleted Instagram because it is a time-consuming black hole of inevitable comparison culture. I do miss stories, I think some folks got creative with what they posted on stories. However, the idea in which stories only last 24 hours is a clear grab at my attention span, a compromise for my time, a "grab it before its gone, check the app before its too late" type beat. I'm over it, I'm living without it. I'm checking Twitter too much instead sure, but the slow death of Twitter is imminent. My TL has slowed down immensely and the algorithm is grasping at straws to display relevant engaging content. Twitter feels almost as mindless as scrolling through Facebook now, boring and ad centric.

I'm focused more on my academic work, I feel like im retaining significantly more information from my classes and independent study. Making less room for short-term trends often inherently rooted in capital gain, or worrying about what other people are doing.

A stark issue I realized, I am internalizing a lot more of my interests instead of compartmentalizing them down to personality traits to share online. I find a song, and I do immediately think about sharing it on stories and it's like, no? I can just enjoy this thing for myself, not worrying about sharing my interests with a small handful of people and keeping things personal has been nice.

I'm so sorry to be that ass-hole, the "deleting social media may have made me a little better" ass-hole but I don't think I can go back to Instagram. At least not for a while.

And I know there are positives to social media like Instagram, I know people use it for good and expand their interests there, but, that's for a different post. I'm just exploring my recent opinions and observations. Additionally, I think Instagram is, overtly, a display of self, and breaking the "self" down to boxes- trends, music taste, fashion, travel as they pertain to an image not interests. The anxiety this gives me, in terms of breaking down into comparing myself to others and feeling the need to break down my life to a limited display just doesn't feel good even when I remind myself people only post what they want you to see.

[michaelmilkers]

i'm regularly astounded by the cognitive dissonance some of yall have to accept that gender is a social construct with infinite possibilities with the capacity to be deeply personal and individual but still think there's a list of like 4 acceptable sexual orientations and if you go outside of that list or mix entries on that list or relate to them in a non-traditional way not only are you Breaking The Rules you're personally directly harming people who follow them

[msfcatlover]

Someone: “But that’s not how it actually is in canon!”

Me:

[itachiiwrites]

He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him

Pairings: Established relationship, bf!gojo, reader is AFAB, a little lovesick gojo, he's overworked :(

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, freaky!gojo, marathon sex, p in v, (multiple) creampies and orgasms, squirting, feral gojo, sex in general.

Gojo Satoru is a freak..

Rumors about him being an absolute slut is true, but there is no bigger example than Satoru who is a slut and a virgin, a walking contradiction, before he met you.

Satoru looks at you in almost apprehensiveness when you give him a soft gaze at the revelation. This wasn't a look of disappointment, it looked like....pity. And Satoru hated being pitied more than anything.

He's a little embarrassed, although you reassure him that it's something you will never care about.

"You are literally juggling too many things with barely three hours of sleep, and virginity is a social construct anyway.." You shrug, looking up at him hovering over you, his tip nuzzled between the ingress of your sopping pussy, and oh how he thought that the pity would make his cock soft but it didn't, it just made it harder. It was a little pathetic, the way his cock was so easy that mere words of care and tenderness and acknowledgement for his furious schedule has got him rock solid, with the pearls of his precum clustering on the exterior of your sweet cunt. He was that love starved.

It took everything to not give your pussy mauling thrusts already, he was never the one to talk about how he indeed wanted a break sometimes and he wouldn't even now, especially being this horny and excited that he felt like a dog in heat. He had more than a good idea of how to go on about it, he had seen it in the bad porno that never appealed to him.

"Sweetheart..just let me put it in, I feel like my cock is gonna explode..I don't want to think of a bunch of blobs that I exorcise, not very hot.." He chuckled cheekily, leaning into your cheek, looking at you with the periphery of his eyes with a lecherous gaze, planting hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw and neck while he ached.

"Always a brat.." You sighed, grabbing his endowed cock from the base, pushing it into your velvety walls with a look of challenge and amusement laced onto your face.

After that, all hell broke lose. There was nothing that would stop Gojo Satoru now, not even if he was to be kept caged within his infinity. He would break it, just to discern your sweet, sweet cunt.

The challenge that was plastered onto your face just vanished, your assumption that Satoru would stop just after the first round with the orgasm that hit him with the speed of light, which made him finish so fast that it was deplorable, was so so wrong. He went on, and on and on.

And Gojo Satoru was innately confident, the fact that this was his first time didn't matter. He was always explorative, always excessive. Bold of you to assume he understood the concept of moderation.

"O-oh..fuckk..Toru.." You looked up to him with your glassy, nearly red rimmed eyes from the nth orgasm of the night, your cloying moans just made him keep going. Your was pussy puffy and clit violently engorged after being fucked this thoroughly.

"U-uh-huh..yeah, you like that..fuuuck baby, look at you.." He cooed with a feral grin on his lips as he steadily moved his hips, keeping your legs hoisted up on his shoulders, getting the hang of it. His hip movements no longer uncoordinated. He had always been a fast learner. He stills his hips with a series of whimpers as he came with hot white, thick ropes into your womb, pulling out with a lewd pop that spilled the cum stuffed inside down to your ass. You moaned softly, hazy and a little disoriented as your fluttering pussy pushed it all out.

He hummed at the sight, tapping and massaging his now agitatingly red tip onto your clit, he himself could feel his brain seem afloat, reverberating to take you again even after the multiple orgasms. He was dead set.

He hissed softly with widened eyes, in surprise and amusement, a full blown throaty laugh echoing his throat when you squirted, gushing out like a dam. He vigorously rubbed his sensitive cock on your sloshing pussy, his cock unbearably hard again. He was hooked, addicted. To you.

He grasped your hips, pulling you forward which made you mewl at the suddenness. He pressed his hefty weight on your body, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. If he had a laceration on his brain from the way this image of you burned in his head, sprawled underneath him, all flushed, sweaty and a mess, just for him. He would die rather than using his RCT.

"God baby..you washed my cum away, gonna hafta, fill you up again.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagarism not authorised.

m.list!