#feminist au

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Person A: I would only date a woman I respect. Person B: Cool yet irrelevant, the real question is do you respect women you wouldn’t or can’t date?

[coloriza]

"I was given a heart before I was given a mind A thirst for pleasure and war, a hunger we keep inside We fell from sky with grace, and life gave us a sweeter taste You can drink, you can feast There's beauty in your beast

The flesh in the fruit and the blood in the wine"

[midnight-moth]

Ok I fell asleep for like an hour and woke up with massive Midwest emo ghouls au brainworm. Need to expel before sleep. There probably so many typos.

Mist - owner of local record shop. Makes all of the ladies who walk in the door feel like queens and makes condescending music bros shrivel.

Aurora - works at small cafe across the street. Amazing work ethic, short temper. Trying to find her place in the world as well as within a band that contains several very large personalities.

Mist comes in every day, wallet chain and massive key ring jangling in harmony with the brass bell hanging over the door. Orders a pour over every time, not because it tastes better. They really can’t tell the difference.

But because it takes longer. So they can admire Aurora’s deft hands stacking paper cups, refilling the sugar dispenser, smacking the side of the bean grinder to dislodge whatever’s stuck in there.

Aurora gives her a large. But she only charges her for a small. Slips her a cookie or a muffin cause it’s a funny shape, no one will buy it, it’s a day old (even though it tastes pretty damn fresh to Mist.)

Eventually she stops making excuses when she slides the brown paper bag across the counter, cause she’s too busy burying her blush when Mist reaches for it and grazes the top of her hand with their calloused finger tops, conditioned by steel core and round wire.

Aurora finds herself wanting to take a walk outside on her break. No longer content to put her headphones on and take a nap on top of a few sacks of coffee beans. Because Zeph frowns on that just a little.

She finds herself strolling past the window of the record shop, watching Mist prop up new releases against the window. At first they wave, but then y hey beckon.

The crisp chill in the air is a plausible excuse as to why the apples of Auroras cheeks are still so persistently red.

Mist asks if Aurora has a record player. And she does of course. “Have you listened to this?” Mist asks, plucking a record from beneath the counter.

Aurora hesitated, and admits, “No, I haven’t.” Aurora admonishes the fact that she hasn’t been in this world for very long at all and she’s a little bit intimidated by the seemingly vast and endless array for artists and genres.

“Take it for a spin. Let me know what you think.” Mist pushes the record across the gouged counter where various employees in the past 3 decades have carved their initials and perhaps some unsavory phrases.

“Oh, well, I don’t - we’ll - this is embarrassing. But I’m on sort of a tight budget.” The admission forms a hairline crack in her heart, and she isn’t sure why. Maybe Aurora simply does not want to refuse anything Mist has to offer.

“Don’t worry about that, you can bring it back later.” Sensing the hesitation in Aurora as her hand hovers over the record, they push it into her hand with a wink.

It’s so warm in there, Aurora can’t blame the chill and so she buried her face in her scarf and says “thanks, I’ve gotta get back. But, thank you. I’m so - I’ll - excited to listen.” She cringes inwardly and her feet stumble although not as much as her words as she heads for the exit.

She finished the rest of her shift, looking at her backpack with x-ray vision, as if she can see the record inside with Mist’s fingerprints all over it along with whatever she felt when she listened to it.

She kneels on the floor as in front of her stereo as soon as she gets home. Shoes and coat, scarf, lunch bag, all abandoned behind her like a trail of breadcrumbs.

GLORIA, G-L-O-R-I-A.

Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine

Meltin' in a pot of thieves

Wild card up my sleeve

Thick heart of stone

My sins my own

They belong to me, me

People say "beware!"

But I don't care

The words are just

Rules and regulations to me, me

She’s vaguely aware of the dull throb in her knees and despite how loud she has the music cranked she’s kneeling on the floor practically pressing her ear to the speaker.

Her voice is loud and infectious, the words are irreverent and rebellious. She’s already hooked. And she flips the vinyl over 4 times before the gnawing in her stomach forces her to trudge to the kitchen and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Normally a creature of habit, and a neat one at that, the plate doesn’t make it to the sink and the knife sticks to the counter, laden with jam, and there are crumbs on the floor. She doesn’t care.

She tries to go bed early because she has the opening shift. But that contralto voice is ringing in her mind and her feet are dancing under the covers.

She crawls to work and his through the motions, but she finds she’s less tired than expected. Still high on the energy of what she considers truly powerful. It’s like a talisman, no one can fuck with her today. She can’t help but occasionally run her fingers over the record, safely stowed under the counter to return to its owner.

When Mist arrives, they grins like a shark once they hears what’s playing over the shop’s speakers.

Counting the time, then you came to my room

And you whispered to me and we took the big plunge

And oh you were so good, oh, you were so fine

And I gotta tell the world that I make her mine, make her mine

Make her mine, make her mine, make her mine, make her mine

G-l-o-are-i-a, Gloria, G-l-o-are-i-a, Gloria, G-l-o-are-i-a, Gloria

G-l-o-are-i-a, Gloria

Aurora can’t even be bothered to feel shame as she shouts the newly memorized lyrics at the top of her lungs while preparing Mist’s pour over.

“So I guess you liked it?”

“You could say that.” Aurora is surprised that she can manage to say something remotely intelligible. She pulls the record out from under the register to slide back over the counter.

“No, keep it for now. But come by later. I think I have something else you’d like.”

Aurora is inclined to believe them. She takes the record back and in exchange slides over a brown craft paper bag. It feels heavier than usual.

When Mist dumps their belongings on the counter and flicks on the lights, they open it and sees it contains two cookies. And they are not deformed in the slightest.

Aurora comes in on her lunch, on a breeze that smells like roasted coffee and sandalwood. And she returns, with another record under her arm.

Zeph cannot find it within himself to chide her for being late. Nor will he for the days and weeks to come. When her 30 minute lunch break turns into 40 minutes. 45 minutes. 55 minutes.

Because an education in feminist proto-punk cannot be rushed. Nor can her deep dive into the riot grrl movement. Nor can love, Zeph knows that better than anyone.

[sunlightandsuffering]

Feminist and The Fratboy AU

THEORETICALLY, I COULD WRITE MORE BUT AS OF RN I KIND OF LIKE HOW IT'S ENDED AND STUFF?? it's not as smutty as i wanted but y'all i really think this is the essence of them, feminist mikasa and fratboy eren WE DO LOVE

She’s sitting in his room, lazily turning herself in loops on his desk chair, spinning around over and over again. And isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. 

And yet here she fucking is, in the bedroom of one Eren Yeager, expecting it to play out differently than it has the hundred or so other times she’s been in this exact position. 

Her socked foot taps against the edge of his desk once more, giving her the momentum she needs for one more spin– but she’s stopped. 

Eren is glaring at her, his own foot wedged harshly between her and the desk, “No more.” She winces, definition of fucking insanity. 

“I should go,” Mikasa tells him, sitting up from the comfort of her swivel chair, she should at least pretend she wants to leave, that she has some dignity. “No, we have to work on our gender women’s studies assignment, I need a good mark if I don’t want to worry about the final.” Mikasa glares at him miserably, slumping back into the comfort of the plush high-backed swivel chair, the one she is sure is used for all too much video gaming, “You could, you know apply yourself, that might help.” Eren shoots her an unimpressed look, “Why would I do that when I have an angry little feminist at my beck and call.”

This time she stands up, fully intending to leave, but Eren shoves her back, his foot on her thigh, dumping her right back into her chair, “Relax, Miki, I didn’t mean it.” Debatable. 

She quirks an eyebrow at him, irritated, and a smirk tugs at Eren’s lips, those smug, full lips that she loves to kiss way too much, he’s so fucking irritating.

“Don’t be so sensitive.” She could murder him right now, in cold blood, and ruin his mother’s perfectly beige carpet.

For a moment she considers it, her eyes flickering toward the butter knife, lying innocently on the dirty plate on his desk. It’s probably from before she got here, when Mama’s boy eating his dinner at his desk, like a fucking king. 

Her face twists into a scowl and Eren’s smirk blooms into a full-on grin, but he must sense her rage because he puts his hands up in surrender, just before she can make a grab for the dull silver of the blade. 

“Fine, I’m sorry,” he kicks her affectionately, and she comes back to herself, stops contemplating murder, just three words from him and it’s over, her brain a puddle of mush, “You know I love my angry little feminist.” “Fuck off.” He’s practically beaming now, man spreading wide from his seat on the bed and Mikasa turns to glance over at her notebook, the list of prompts for an essay they need to write. 

“What do you think chivalry is?” Mikasa reads aloud, picking up her pen to tap against the desk, she looks up at Eren curiously, awaiting an answer from the very antithesis of feminism himself. 

“Get on your knees.”

He says it with such authority, such confidence that she’s already moving to obey before she stops herself, hands clutching the armrests of her chair. 

“What?” He doesn’t elaborate, simply jerks with his chin, repeating himself, “Get on your knees.” Mikasa hates herself for following his directions, feels like a fever dream as she drops to her knees, only to find herself looking up at him now from between his legs, that dark feral smile on his lips. 

For a moment, it’s quiet, and she simply sits there, her breathing quick as she tries to figure out his angle, and looks up at him through long dark lashes, coated in the most carefully applied mascara, a layer so thin it doesn’t look like she’s wearing it at all. 

Because despite her rabid dislike of him, she’d wanted to be pretty, to affect him in the same way he does her, for his heart to skip a beat, his breath to come a little faster. Her heart is galloping in her chest as she looks up at him, the tense set of his shoulders, the complete and total fucking power he has over her, on her knees between his legs, looking up at him, awaiting her fate, her pretty face inches from his cock. 

His hand moves and she flinches, expecting what, she doesn’t know, but his touch is soft, his smile still dark, eyes glazed over with something she can’t name, lust, desire, power? 

Carefully, he traces a hand over her face, his thumb brushing over the hollow of her cheek, before slipping up to catch her bangs. He gathers her hair back, tucking it from her face with soft reverence, his other coming up to catch any stray strands. 

He tangles his right hand through the silky strands of her, knotting it at the base of her skull so he has a firm hold, his other hand tipping her chin up roughly. His voice is gravelly as he speaks, evergreen eyes hooded, “Chivalry is holding your hair back while you suck my cock, Miki.”

Her mouth parts, from shock, or an unconscious desire, she doesn’t know, and the wicked smirk on his lips grows. He drops her chin to tug his sweatpants down, his dick jerking up as he’s released from his confines, no boxers because of course he’s not wearing any. He slaps against her cheek lewdly, a drop of pre brushing against her mouth as he lines himself up, resting comfortably against her cheek. 

She’s entranced, watching as he gives himself an experimental stroke, even his own hands not enough to grip his cock completely, an inch or so left out, the thick length of him daunting against the delicate lines of her face.

He’s an imposing figure as he jerks himself off, and Mikasa is caught, silver eyes enraptured. She takes her lower lip between her teeth, tasting the saltiness of his pre, her breath coming faster now, her head foggy with desire. 

“To me Miki,” Eren continues, his voice a low rumble that has her staving off a moan as it settles over her, “Chivalry is keeping your hair out of your eyes so you don’t have to worry.” Eren yanks at her long raven locks, a slow almost painful pull, reminding her of the hold he has on her, the literal and metaphorical grasp he has, how she couldn’t shake him off even if she wanted to. 

“So you can be a good girl and focus on sucking me off.”  

He gives her hair another experimental tug, pulling her just a touch closer, just enough so that plump lips kiss against the hard length of his cock, saliva coating the obscene length of him, a sweet massage that she has no doubt he doesn’t deserve. 

“That’s what I think chivalry is,” He looks down at her, smiling dark with mirth, almost gleeful as her lips part, the weeping head of his cock slipping into her mouth, unbidden, a movement all her own, “Wouldn’t you agree, Miki?” Definition of insanity, huh? Call her insane, then. 

[softestqueeen]

let me teach you pt.1

pairing: Steve Rogers x afab!reader x Bucky Barnes (can be read as gn!reader)

summary: You are a literature professor at university and your boyfriends decide to pay you a visit and listen to one of your lectures.

warnings: none, just fluff

wordcount: 1158 words

a/n: After some very shameless smut, I’m now back with some fluff, don’t worry you won’t have to miss the smut for long. And now: enjoy! <3

Since you were little it was always your dream to become a teacher. But it took very long for you to figure out what kind of teacher you wanted to become. Kindergarten? Pre school? Secondary School? Literary School? University? The options were endless, how would you ever be able to decide?

But when you grew older, the only logical option for you was to teach what you loved most and to pass on your passion to others. So, when you were 18, you decided to study English Literature in England. And even though you loved England you wanted to see more, so you moved to New York. For the last few years you have been working at Columbia in the English and Comparative Literature Department as a literature professor.

This semester you taught multiple classes but your favourite course was definitely feminist literature, as it was something you felt wasn’t represented enough in academia.

You’ve wanted to teach this specific course ever since you’ve started as a uni professor and now you finally got the chance to do it.

You didn’t have a lot of students in that specific course, but they were the perfect group. Always attentive, asking deep questions but still being able to fool around sometimes. Classes like this remind you, why you started teaching and why you loved it so much.

You were currently standing in said class, talking about the next book you are going to discuss, when suddenly the door to the lecture hall opened.

It was strange really. It didn’t happen often that students accidentally mistake your lecture hall for theirs, especially since it was the middle of the semester AND the middle of the lecture. But, as you can see, it still happened occasionally.

The class turned their attention to the door and suddenly two familiar men entered. Your boyfriends. You couldn’t hold in the little surprised gasp that left your lips.

You knew that they voiced the desire to visit you at work and listen to one of your lectures and you told them that they were always welcome. You just didn’t think that they would visit so soon.

Especially since you thought they were on a mission until tomorrow evening.

The jaws of your students dropped, but you only started to smile at seeing the super soldiers.

 Yup, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Captain America and the former Winter Soldier, are your boyfriends. You still can’t believe it either but you were very happy about it. They entered with a apologetic smile.

“Sorry, we couldn’t find the right room, but it seems we’ve found it now.”, Bucky said with a teasing grin.

“Yea, Sorry, please just carry on, sweetheart.”, Steve told you after they both said down in one of free seats at the very front.

At the term off endearment, the jaws of you students dropped even wider, but you just carried on with your lecture.

“Where were we? Close your mouths or you’ll catch a fly! So as I was telling you,…”, you went on with your lecture and after a moment your student snapped put of it and started taking notes again.

You still had a good hour of your lesson left and Steve and Bucky were almost as attentive as your students. Taking notes, raising their hands and asking questions. The only difference was that your students don’t look at you with heart shaped eyes and loopy smiles, getting distracted from the lectures.

But you were not complaining about their attention. You always loved it when they looked at you like you were their world. They almost made you blush multiple times.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and you dismissed your class for today, giving them new assignments to work on.

The boys still sat patiently and waited for you to finish up. They even offered to help and you let them clean your blackboard. When you packed up, Bucky insisted on carrying your bag and they escorted you to your office.

On your way there, you saw a lot of baffled and shocked expressions from people seeing your partners. You’ve gotten over the initial shock of seeing them, but it still amused you to no end to see that shock on others.

You entered your office and showed Bucky where to put you bag. You loved the way your office looked. Big dark bookshelves, overflowing with books, a worn out leather couch between them, a little coffee table in front of it, your Mahogony desk in the middle of the room, two leather chairs that matched the couch in front of it, your chair behind it and a lot of lamps that made the space even more cozy and even more you.

Your boyfriends started to explore your space, your books, your little trinkets and knickknacks that you had displayed in the room, while you sat down in your desk and pulled out the essays that you had to correct.

“You can sit down wherever you want, just be prepared, during my office hours, students often come in with questions and stuff. I thought you had a mission until tomorrow?”, you looked at them with a pointed look, they knew you were always worried when they were away and wanted to know when they would come back, “Anyways, you could have said something, then I would have prepared something more interesting than me talking about a book for one and a half hours.”

Steven was the first to speak up. “I loved hearing you talk about something you’re so passionate about. An we’re really sorry, we didn’t know that we would get home earlier either, but when we found out we thought we’d surprise you. Was that not okay?”, he asked, worry etched into his face.

“No, no, of course that’s okay. You know, you’re always welcome in my lessons, both of you.”, you immediately assured him, smiling.

They smiled back and settled into the couch, both with one of your books in their hands, as you got started with correcting the essays of your students. It took a bit longer, because you preferred to do it by hand, always annoying your students by asking them to write it on paper or at least print it out.

They were quiet and when students came in with problems even left the room to give you space to concentrate.

When your office hours were over, you were done with correcting and decided to join the boys on the couch. You sat down in-between them, and cuddled into them.

For a while you stayed like this, Steve with his arms around your shoulder, you leaning your head against Bucky’s shoulder, going further down until your laying half on top of him, your head on his chest while he had his flesh hand on your thigh.

You bathed in the comfort of your men, a comfortable silence settling over you.

To be continued…

Part 2!

a/n: I will definitely post a part 2 with smut! If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving some notes, likes, reposts and comments with feedback are always very appreciated! <3

[seoafin]

Talkin bout foursomes and shit and all I can think about is rip!mc dragging Shoko into the mix unintentionally, like she just feels kinda sad cus Shoko seems so Forever Alone™️ and independent and smoking away the pain and shit so when she asks shoko herself if she ever feels sidelined and lonely she takes it legit seriously when shoko responds with a joking "what. You want me to slide in with all 3 of you in bed?"

Cue ripmc PLEADING with stsg 2 please let shoko have just one tryst in bed just one please just PLSSS and they're 😐 faced cus they can tell what's gonna happen but ofc they relent cus it's their kawaii wife asking and it's allowed with a deep and profound regret, cus as SOON as shokos walking in past their front door, a cool lazy grin and cig between her lips, ripmc is ALL over her just fawning and flustered, hovering like a bug all up in her space.

Like, even when Satoru's spreading and nudging himself into Ieri, ripmc and her are just STARING at each other; legit he and Geto don't fucking exist. The full entire session's spent with rip!mc gazing wantonly at shoko with these lovey-dovey, dew-lashed, *deep* doe-like eyes, caressing her face and whispering sweet nothings "does it feel good Ieri? Is it nice, me and you...? I wish I could kiss the space beneath your eyes a million times..." clasping her hands and nuzzling their noses like some sickly disgusting lovesick shoujo protagonist, u can practically see the roses falling by their heads.

And even though Gojo's like, balls deep in Ieri he legit feels like 🧍🏼‍♂️like some lamp on the wall, like those two girls aren't paying attention AT ALL. Even Geto who tried to sex talk them both just gets his mug facepalmed by a smiling Ieri who pushes him aside to swap spit with her girlfriend and now's he's just -_- circling shoko's wet clit ( ripmc DEMANDED all physical attention on shoko ). To stsg both, the entire thing SUCKS cus even though they're technically straight up cucking their own wife they literally feel like THEE victims instead. Neither of them are kissed or caressed or addressed, they're semi-alive dildo's they're like, not even talked too.

And when shoko finally leaves after shotgunning their woman, ripmc sighs this sigh like she's just entered heaven and twirls into bed (she did not react like this w either of her boyfies) like some Disney princess who's just had the most marvelous, romantic, tender first kiss and is dreamily like " wow <333 we *have* to do that *again* soon.....<3333". To which geto and gojo both stare back like "uhhhmm NO????"

this is insane....they'd cry themselves to sleep. nanami is fun but shoko? shoko is competition 😭😭😭 she needs to take the strap out and show stsg how it's done

[v1ct0r1an]

ash and zam r very fun to draw

[11x13kyle]

Ngl y’all writing about what a white feminist Wendy is while being two white women writing about your favs being into raceplay feels a little like projection

someone sent me an anon asking if the canonically racist and deplorable character would do something racist and deplorable so i said “probably.” how you saw this as “projecting” onto my “fav” is absolutely WILD and beyond me.

also wendy in this au is a white feminist journalist because everyone is at their worst here! in this specific au, i believe that wendy at her worst would be a liberal vox journalist. and i’m not gonna lie, i think a lot of these kinds of asks are very disingenuous and willfully misinterpreting things, especially considering how many times both of us have explained this au on our blogs time and time again.

[lostmyremembrall]

𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡!𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒

-> I know, surprising... but we love Tom empowering women.

-𝒯𝒽ℯ ℬℯ𝓈𝓉 𝒜 𝒩𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝒟ℴ

It's a depressing time for you to be alive when women are expected to become a housewife after Hogwarts. You and Tom, two orphans from the muggle world, made Heads, but you're still overcome with self-doubt. Tom overhears your conversation with Slughorn and decides to cheer you up. Well, in his unique way. 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓀 ℳℯ 𝒜𝓌𝒶𝓎

Summary: You're done with your mother constantly shaming you for things you wear. You're crying in your room when you hear pebbles thrown at your window. You look out of the window to find Tom waiting for you outside with a bicycle. You decide that he is your ticket out of this hellhole.

Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader Genre: Fluff. Teen angst against parents. Feminism.

𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓐 𝓛𝓲𝓸𝓷

Summary: Driven by fear and rage, the muggleborn Head Girl is just about ready to do anything to fight back the pureblood supremacy. When you flee to the Astronomy Tower for some peace, you're comforted by the last person you expected.

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝐺𝑟𝑦𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑟! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐻𝑢𝑟𝑡&𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

“Someone tried to give me dating advice as a ‘nice guy’ and I was like ‘well what if I’m not a nice girl? Shouldn’t nice guys be with nice girls? Now begone, peasant, mommy has to go do villainess shit.’”

[myfemininerageisbeautiful]

I would love to see a cishet male college student character who joined a sorority because he didn't wanna hang out with those rapey frat boys. Would love it if he was super buff and tall and masculine but carried a purse because it was conveint and sometimes painted his nails. An emotionally available prochoice king who's not afraid to cry and speak up about women's issues without speaking over women. The frat boys hate him because women are lining up to date him even though he'd never even think of betraying his darling girlfriend.

Anyway I'm not sure if the worlds ready for that but it would be nice.

[sunlightandsuffering]

Whenever Feminist Mikasa pictured herself falling in love, she always imagined she would fall for a nice, respectful guy who's a feminist just like herself. Instead, here she is, on a Wednesday night, anxiously looking at her phone waiting for a 'u up?' text from this asshole she can't get out of her mind💀💀

isn't that how it is FOR SO MANY WOMEN!!! LMFAO UR DESCRIBING LIFE AND THAT'S WHAT'S ROUGH BUT IT'S EREN SO WE'LL ACCEPT IT !!

She hates it, she can't stand it at all, actually just contemplates throwing her phone against the wall.

Because why the fuck is she still awake, it's 1 am, she has class tomorrow at noon, with the very object of her ire actually. And because as of right now he hasn't texted her, she should really be going to sleep, because the very fact that he hasn't texted her means that tomorrow she'll be taking the bus to class, which means she'll have to leave at 9 am, at the earliest, instead of rolling out of Eren's bed at 11:30 and rushing to wake him up in time for class.

She should be happy, she'll go to class refreshed, if not a little windblown from the air outside and switching buses twice, but she'll be wearing clean clothes, freshly showered, and smell like lavender and not Eren's body wash.

It'll be nice. So why the fuck can't she fall asleep, pacing around her room irritably, glancing at her phone every few seconds, her watch to see if a delayed notification has come in. This has been their routine for weeks now, text her at an unseasonably late hour of night, order her an uber to his place, they fuck, too loudly and for far too long, but god is it ever good, and then the next morning, she wakes up at 11:00 on the dot, freaks out, tries to get herself ready and when she inevitably realizes it's 11:45 and Eren is her ride, she wakes him up too. And they both arrive to their gender women's studies class in a haphazard heap of unwashed clothes, smelling vaguely of sex and body wash, and they both go their seperate ways down the aisle of the lecture hall, Mikasa to Sasha and Eren to Jean.

Where the awkward conversations will progress, and Mikasa will lie through her teeth and say she just had a 'rough morning', that her alarm clock didn't go off, and she'll vaguely overhear Eren touting some similar bullshit, but with a lot more chuckles, and suggestive remarks about 'the babe' he'd had over last night. It's an exhausting practice, so why does she want it to continue ?

And yet, even as she falls into bed, teeth brushed, hair combed, skin care complete she can't sleep. It's like she's had an energy drink, a shot of caffeine, 150 mg at 1 am, and she's revving to go with energy.

At 2 am, just as she's about to slip up and take a melatonin she is rewarded for her hard work. It's embarassing how fast she snatches her phone.

Eren Yeager, 2:05 am

u up?

She has never been more relieved in her life. She resists the urge to text back right away, she can't let him know she was waiting, physically aches, pouring over with affection for those two little words. It's a game, how long can she wait before she replies, and how long until he falls asleep, too tired to stay up for her response. Mikasa makes it a whopping five minutes.

Mikasa, 2:10 am

no.

Eren Yeager, 2:11 am

i'm sending ur uber, be ready, i'm fucking tired.

Mikasa, 2:12 am

I hate you.

Eren Yeager, 2:13

👅👅🍆🍆

God why does even his pathetic string of emojis give her the shivers, she's so fucking frat-boy coded now it's ridiculous.

Nonetheless, she gets in the uber anyway.

[klutzymaiden123]

The Guardians watching Helga casually getting dragged by a hot, mysterious stranger:

[gaystan]

Guys, OBVIOUSLY MCAU Wendy won't become a TERF. She may fall into the trap of white woman activism, but it'd take a lot more than that to become a TERF.

Cartman, on the other hand, would absolutely be a TERF.

eric cartman would not be a radical feminist.

[hantengucloneswife]

Akaza the feminist

part one (please help me name this series)

WARNING: blood, semi-graphic depictions of violence, murder, kidnapping(? is it really kidnapping if the baby would die if he left it), a baby.

"Stupid Douma... Why can't that asshole do his own missions?!" Akaza grumbled to himself as he walked, he stopped when he smelt the scent of fresh blood.

He walked towards the source, readying himself to attack, as he got closer the wet sound of blood splattering becoming more apparent.

The sound came from inside a house, the front door was cracked open slightly. Akaza carefully peered into the house, freezing when he saw the scene that was unfolding inside.

A man stood over a women, plummeting a knife into her chest repeatedly. A surge of rage ran through Akaza's body when he saw the man stabbing the woman and surrounded in blood.

Without thinking Akaza ran in, punching the man's head off before beating his dead lifeless body. He continued beating the man, kicking his foot into the chest of the man. Once he stopped he looked over at the woman, sorrow engulfing him as he saw her dead body but before he could actually mourn her death he heard the wails of a baby coming from the next room.

Akaza approached the door, opening it quietly. He was met with the sight of a small baby in a crib wailing and screaming. He walked over and picked up the child, rocking the bundle gently.

"A... baby..." Akaza said softly as the infant began to calm down from his soothing motions, looking at him and babbling.

The child wasn't afraid of him, it looked at him like it was entranced in his appearance, lifting its arm up to try and reach him. Akaza lifted the baby up higher and it gently touched his face, giggling happily.

"You... Like... Me...?" He was in disbelief that a small child wasn't horrified of him, let alone liked him. He looked around the room, trying to find something that would tell him more about the baby when a note hastily jammed into a drawer caught his eye.

"If you are reading this I've probably met my end. The baby's name is Y/N, she's an amazing girl. If anything happens please take care of her." Akaza read the note aloud before he looked back at the baby.

"Y/N..." He said the slowly, smiling softly as he grabbed the baby's blanket wrapping it around her, giving her a gentle pet before taking a cloth and wrapping the baby to his chest. He knew that he would get in trouble for this but it would be worth it. She would be worth it.

Akaza looked down at the baby strapped to his chest. "You ready to go?" he gently ruffled her hair before walking out of the room, distracting the baby from her dead parents with his hand by moving around his fingers to press her nose then her cheeks.

The freezing cold of the winter didn't effect Akaza but it sure did effect the baby, he rubbed circles on her back soothingly whilst speaking softly to her. "It's okay... Just little bit longer Y/N..."

After awhile Akaza arrived at the infinity castle. he sucked in a deep breath before looking down at the baby and rocked her gently before walking towards the entrance.

[garfieldsbong]

fruity 6 (or whatever we’re calling it) That 70s Show au. i’ve said my piece.