#if you want to reach me after my askbox is closed my dms will still be open

[leviathans-watching]

om & hq comms open!!

closed as all five slots are filled!

alr after evaluating interest and feedback, i've decided to open commissions! they will be 3 cents/word rounded to the nearest dollar with a minimum of 100 words and a maximum of 1000 words.

quick math: 100 words=$3, 200 words=$6, 500 words=$15, 1000 words=$30

what do i need money for? it's not super noble or anything I just want to buy my mom a $70 concert ticket and need to buy it fast lol

i will have 5 slots open at a time (until I get to my goal I suppose) and they will be first come first serve with NO waiting list. there is a google form to fill out here where you'll give me all your info etc. and then I will reach out via dm (so as such please make sure dms are open) to tell you your slot spot. after the first five submit the form will be closed until I clear them. i will write for haikyuu or obey me and will write for any character(s) that appear(s) canonically

during this time, requests will be closed. i have some in my inbox to go through anyway but really want to dedicate my attention to comms rn anyway. mfil and chhw will still be posted.

since these are comms, they will not adhere to the same rules as my requests. this means I will write for a specific gender/name/oc/self-insert etc. however, i still will not write anything above the teen rating or exorbitantly dark themes or character x character outside of mc/you. i have the right to refuse any comm request.

when i reach out about slot placement I will also give payment details.

as always, reach out via askbox, dm, or reply with any questions! tysm and I cannot wait to write for you all <3

[1800pain]

REQUEST RULES.

The rules for my template terms still apply. (No endos or their supporters, do not redistribute or claim as your own, editing the template and removing the credit is okay.)

I have the right to refuse a request for any reason I see fit.

I will not be accepting requests from empty or inactive blogs.

We will not be using any "fancy fonts".

While we typically will not interact with minors for any reason, they are permitted to reach out and request templates. If it becomes inappropriate or personal at any point, I will block you. (I may remove this rule in the future.)

Please be patient! You have no idea what's going on in my personal life.

As for right now, we are only doing requests for private or closed (such as friend/DM servers) Discord templates. You can see examples of our previous work in the tag #⚠ FLASH LIGHT.

Note: As is the nature of requests, we do not expect anything back. However, if you would like to gift us something in return for the work, we will accept art of fandoms we're in, or drawings of headmates (if you know them). Discord Nitro is also appreciated, but we're really bad at receiving gifts with money attached LOL. Either way, gifts will always be appreciated—even if they're not either of these things!

REQUESTING PROCESS.

Message me on Tumblr or Discord. Whichever one doesn't matter; though if you message me on Discord, be sure to let me know what your Tumblr username is. We will try to DM the Tumblr just so we know it's you.

Let me know what you want in the template and what you will be using it for. I may ask additional questions.

Throughout the creation of the template, I may share screenshots and ask more questions about things you want added. I may ask questions about Discord bots you want, such as PluralKit, DreamyTime, TupperBox, etc.

When the template is done, I will save a video of the completed version and share the link to you. After that, I will hand the server ownership to you and leave the server.

I will remain friends with you up to a week after the template is done, then remove you as a friend. If you have any questions about the template after that, please leave it in my askbox instead.

[killerandhealerqueen]

Closing ask box for a bit

Hey guys!  So my last final is on December 10th and so to focus on studying as well as packing up to head home for Christmas break, I’m going to be turning off my ask for a little bit.  So if you want to submit your headcanons make sure to send them in by Sunday at 11:59 as that’s when I’m going to be closing my ask box.  I hope y’all understand why I’m doing this

[cozymochi]

🩵 FAQ 🩵:

I can’t believe I reached a point where I do have frequently asked questions. That is insane to me.

Q: “Do you take commissions?”

A: Kinda. Depends on the status below.

COMMISSION STATUS: Attempting to work on current slots. Expect longer wait. INFO HERE! READ IT BEFORE INQUIRING!! Do not skip or just skim that, I’m begging. Slot availability below:

CATEGORY 1:

• Slot 1: [CLOSED]

• Slot 2: [CLOSED]

• Slot 3: [CLOSED]

• Slot 4: [CLOSED]

CATEGORY 2:

• Slot 1: [CLOSED] [CURRENTLY PRIORITIZED]

• Slot 2: [CLOSED]

> MORE INFO if you’d like to know 💕

*As of Feb 14th: Expect slight delays on completion and inquiry responses. Day job hours have unexpectedly increased. Will try to stay on top of turnaround times as stated in the doc.

Q: “Do you take art/drawing requests?”

A: TECHNICALLY, YES! 😱😱

Though, I prefer to call them “suggestions” since there isn’t a guarantee I’ll get to them; they are free after all. They are more so used to gauge what you guys do want to see from me, since otherwise I’d have no clue. So, don’t be shy about throwing something in my inbox if there is something you want to see!!! Maybe I’ll actually get to it!!! I promise it’s not because I have a busy inbox, I really don’t.

(I probably won’t be drawing your OC. Sorry. Kinda selective. Need some boundaries, y’know. That said: Askbox only. I won’t answer DMs. Too personal.)

Q: “Do you have art tutorials?”

A: There might be extremely crude ones floating around from past asks, but in general I don’t consider myself a good enough tutor to really give a “how-to” on anything. I’m still learning myself as it is. But I’m not opposed to any process questions if there are any 😭

Q: “Do you have a twitter?”

A: Sadly, yes. But, you won’t find anything up there except maybe likes on shitposts.

This isn’t a question, just a note. But, I would REALLY PREFER that people NOT repost my art to other sites or use it for personal reasons without my consent. Or, hell, repost up here even. That’s what reblogs are for.

Literally. Just ask first. Giving “credit” isn’t really enough (folk have done some weeeird things. Credit infers I gave some kind of consent, even if I never knew about it). I promise asking does wonders. Yet no one ever does it. Though I have become numb enough to the fact that this will always be an inevitability.

~~~

MORE LINKS™️

little blue bird place (i barely use it, if at all. Purely doomscrolling there, and only here for mild contacts.)

YouTube Place (I have old animatics up there when I used it as a dumping ground. Whether I’ll actually make the new ones in my head is up in the air. LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE.)

Ko-fi (I put it on every post but it’s ignored regularly.)

Above image is semi-outdated. Will change eventually.

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.” 

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um…” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. “I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.” 

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

[pumpkinpaix]

Thank you for that translation post. Tbh I think you and hunxi and other users being flooded with requests in the wake of CQLs rise in popularity are handling the pressures and inevitable discomforts with a lot of grace and patience that you’re not obligated to show. I have never personally met an English translation of my native tongue that didn’t fill me with unease. I love languages in general, and can fumble through a few of them enough to be considered multilingual. 1/

I love translations too, for their variety, their uncertainty, the special something that each translator puts into their work, because no two native speakers will ever translate a complex sentence the same way on the first try, in any language. And there is a beauty in that, because it goes beyond language and into the way we perceive the physical world, the nuances, the way we think and feel about things. 2/

But I think for a lot of us who never chose to exist in primarily english-speaking places, our native tongue can sometimes feel like a raw wound, because a lot of times (and I know most english speakers never mean it this way) we’re made to feel as if our native tongue is inferior. As if the peak value of our complex, emotionally vibrant and culturally rich language is its eventual English translation, which can feel pretty shitty, regardless of the language. 3/

Especially, as you said, when we begin to lose some of it, precisely due to overwhelming pressure of english-speaking spaces. It’s like adding insult to injury. So I know I get defensive a lot when it comes to my native tongue, because it doesn’t translate well into English, and it shouldn’t have to, in order to have richness and value. But the fact that I have difficulty communicating with my grandmother because 4/

I can’t simply substitute every fifth or tenth word with English when I can’t remember the correct one in my tongue probably makes me so much more protective of the words I still DO have. In any case, I want you to know that a lot of us appreciate the fuck out of you, your patience, and everything you’ve contributed to the fandom. Zewu-Jun is 泽芜君 and he shouldn’t have to be anything else in any other language.  5/5

(again, referring to this post)

anon, everything you said is such a Mood, thank you. i would quote half of this back to you essentially just to be like !!!! yeah that!! that’s the feeling. the slow, latent trauma of linguistic alienation. the defensiveness. the unease. thank you for putting that into words too!! the thing you said about being more protective of the words you do have? yeah. it took me a very long time to come to an understanding of zewu-jun, because I didn’t know those characters when I first encountered them. it took work! so of course now I’m not eager to try and re-transmute my understanding into something else that will inevitably fall short.

anyways, I’m really glad you think me and the others are doing a good job ahaha. because ultimately, even though I’m defensive and possessive about it, I do think that trying to reach out instead of close off is a better avenue. people are trying, after all! and that matters. even if im frustrated and salting in my dms all the time about the latest ice cold take i saw on my dash aslkdjflk. i try to keep that energy out of my posts, so I’m happy to hear you think it’s working 😆 i’ve been in other fandoms where popular, resource-type blogs could be really cruel to the people in the askbox--which I understand too, because. well, no one is obligated to be nice to a racist anon in their inbox, no matter how unintentional. but I was perpetually unhappy in those fandoms because I was terrified I would ask an innocuous question to the wrong person and be absolutely flayed alive for it. and I would rather mdzs and cql not become that, at least where I spend my time. so I guess, thank you! and everyone else!! for showing me that my effort hasn’t been wasted. 💛

[burnedbyshoto]

Hello! Since your askbox is open, is it alright that ask for a request? If so, can you please write a scenario detailing the birth of Todoroki and his s/o’s first child? Maybe he is out on patrol when he hears that his s/o is about to give birth and has his friends rush him there? I’ve been having a bad week, so please inject me with fluff and good feels. Thank you!

anon, love, I hope this helps you feel better! I’m sorry I wasn’t able to upload this the day you submitted. I know I don’t know you, or you know me, but if you want to talk about this bad week please feel free to dm me!!! sending my love

todoroki shouto x first time pregnant!reader

warning: pure fluff!!!

Part Two  Part Three  Part Four

Pregnancy can be a beautiful thing, and in this case, it typically was.

The day you had found out you were pregnant you could not stop crying, immediately calling Shouto, your loving husband of two years, to bear the good news. While giving you an initial scare by immediately hanging up on you when spilling the news, you were relieved to find him next to you in five minutes with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and misty eyes.

You could still remember holding him tightly as you two hugged as tears fell down your face as you whispered to Shouto that it was real and that he was going to make an amazing parent.

That was exactly thirty-nine weeks ago, and now being an entire week overdue with the same raging pregancy hormones, you wanted this baby out of you!

You were a Pro-Hero before this baby, and you planned on staying a Pro-Hero once the sucker was born. Through a lot of pressure from family, friends, and mostly Shouto, you had agreed to spend the your pregnancy with your alumni U.A. and teach Hero Basics even though you would not be participating in any actual lessons as soon as you couldn’t see your toes anymore.

So there you sat at home, your swollen feet elevated on pillows as a heated blanket lay over your simultaneous cold and hot body, dumb hormones were making you crazy. You were overdue, and you were ready to quite literally kick this baby out of you. Were you excited to be a mother, definitely, but this child seemed to be tap dancing on your bladder like it was life or death.

“Relax, tenshi,” You whispered to your baby, rubbing your swollen belly as you grimaced as a terrible heat flash went throughout your body, “Are you seriously craving donuts right now? We just had an early dinner!” You gasped as images of the sugary sweet dessert flashed through your mind making your mouth water.

“Okay, you convinced me!” You laugh, it took you a while, but soon you managed to squirm off the couch and onto your feet only after two minutes. “That’s a new record, I should tell Shouto…”

How you used to be an S-Rank Pro-Hero you had no idea because now you couldn’t even put on shoes without assistance. “Mama is gonna cry when she has to get back into shape. You made me so fat!” You coo softly to yourself as you waddled over to your purse and grabbed it.

Checking yourself in the mirror, you groaned. Your face was so round that it officially beat Uraraka’s for roundest face in the old class 1-A. You wore a maxi sundress even though it was still February because nothing else fits! Well, sweaty old XXL shirts did but it just was not acceptable in public! Slipping on your sandals, you yelled goodbye to no one in the house and waddled out to buy some donuts.

You eventually made it to the donut shop with drool just about coming down your mouth as you entered the store.

“Ah, Todoroki-sama, I was wondering if you were going to be coming in at all today!” The owner greeted you with a bow as you laughed easily.

“My little Tenshi got his little donut cravings really late tonight, Takashima-sama you wound me, your best customer would never disappoint!” You teased back, your face contorted into a grimace as you clutched your swollen belly, waddling closer to the counter with your wallet ready.

“This one is on the house,” The store owner Takashima said, sliding over a box of half a dozen maple bars.

You teared up, accepting the box while sobbing, and left a generous tip as you went to sit down. Calming down slowly, you groaned as you placed the box down and froze.

Why was your leg wet?

You looked down, hands waving with heightened anxiety and shrieked, “ TAKASHIMA-SAMA, MY WATER BROKE!”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Twenty minutes away via car stood Todoroki Shouto walking down the crowded streets of Tokyo with Midoriya and Iida. The three of them had finished working together for a promo radio interview and were now patrolling near their agencies.

“You know, I’ve really come to miss y/l/n-chan walking around with us,” Iida confessed as he waved to a young fan who was pointing him out to his mother.

“It’s Todoroki, Iida-kun,” Midoriya reminds Iida for the millionth time, but knows that no amount of reminding will ever get Iida to not call you by your maiden name.

“Y/n will be back soon after of course, she feels ready to return to the field,” Shouto says silently agreeing with the fact that he missed having his wife with him while working, it had to be the worst thing about you getting pregnant by far. 

“Is she not overdue for the baby, as well? Don’t most pregnancies last only thirty-eight weeks?” Iida questioned as they stopped to take pictures with an obvious American fan.

“Y/n’s ob-gyn doctor said we shouldn’t worry, but that if by the end of the week if y/n hasn’t given birth naturally, she’ll need a c-section,” Shouto explained as he pulled out his phone feeling it buzzing. He saw your contact picture, a celebratory picture of you after finishing a rather intense hiking trail during your honeymoon. “It’s y/n.”

The two of them nod their head as they watched Shouto pick the phone to his ear as he turned around to give himself some privacy. Shouto spoke once, nodded three times and hung up after giving his love.

“Well, y/n is in labor, and I need to get going,” Shouto says eerily calm, his arms stiff by his side, and Midoriya just about jumps out of his skin.

“SHE’S IN LABOR?! OH MY GOD, I’M NOT READY!!”

“Do not panic, Midoriya-kun, it is Todoroki who is going to be the father, not you.” Iida reminds Midoriya who is looking in every direction trying to figure out a game plan for getting to the hospital.

“I KNOW THAT! BUT I–” Midoriya stops and looks over at Shouto who is visibly panicking. “Todoroki-kun, are you okay?”

“There are no more trains back to Musutafu until 21:00,” Todoroki says carefully and to their horror, it’s only 18:30. “Even if we take a car, we could be late.”

“No!” Iida and Midoriya yell.

“I’ll get you there on time!” Midoriya affirms turning his back to Shouto. “Get on!”

With a crackle of lighting, and the shout of “RECIPRO BURST” the three Pro-Heroes were gone without a trace.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

“It hurts!” You scream in pain as contraction after contraction plummets through you, obviously, your baby had no care in the world that 1. mama was in a hell lot of pain and 2. papa wasn’t here yet so you weren’t going to let him leave your womb.

“Todoroki-sama, you need to push! You’re going to get yourself or the baby hurt!” Your doctor yells obviously worried as you clenched your legs tightly together.

“I’m not having this baby without S-Shoucchan here!” You cry as the pain is quickly becoming unbearable.

“Y/n, I’m here!” A very frazzled looking Shouto walks through the delivery room, his body clothed in medical scrubs his face showing his fear and love. You giggle a bit like a lunatic seeing a few leaves stuck in his hair finding it amusing despite the pain.

“Midoriya and Iida brought y-yOU!?” You screamed again as your body is now fighting you on letting your baby come out.

You look up and see Shouto now at your bedside, his hand clutching yours as the doctor commands a few nurses to get things ready. “I was scared I was going to miss this…” Shouto admits as you clench his hand in yours as another painful contraction sears your body.

“You’re not missing anything!” You can’t help but snap as you throw your head back, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. “Get this baby oUT OF ME!” You shriek at the doctor who has now positioned your legs for delivery.

“Alright, Todoroki-sama, I need you to push for ten seconds, okay?”

“OKAY!!”

And Shouto watched as his wife only tightened her death grip on his hands, curses leaving her lips left and right as she pushed with all her might. He stared over at the doctor who he knew was screaming at his stubborn wife to follow his commands, but he could hear nothing besides the roar of his heartbeat in his ears.

Shouto can’t stop himself from leaning over and pressing a kiss on your sweating forehead as you scream louder to get the baby out of you. Then, Shouto can hear a soft cry. His eyes widen as he watches the pink, white, and bloody baby being held by the doctor and all he can hear is the baby’s cries and the exhausted pants from you.

He looks down to find you slumping in the bed, your hair a complete mess, sweat drenching your body, and tears falling down your face.

“Shoucchan,” You murmur, and immediately Shouto is attending to you, wiping off the sweat, fluffing your pillow and kissing you a million times as both your shaking hands hold each other. “Baby, you’re crying.” You inform him with a weak but incredibly affectionate smile.

Shouto wipes away the tears that fall down his face, only to find himself crying, even more. The nurse eventually brings your guys’ small baby boy over to the two of you and gently handed him to you, and you cradle your baby close to your body. “Hi Kaito,” You coo at the baby who was now soundlessly sleeping on your chest, “I’m your mama, and I just want you to know that even though you were a pain in my ass, I love you so much…” 

Shouto snorts as you look up at him and smile, and he comes down to press another kiss on your lips. “Come here, Shoucchan,” You say handing your son over to him, and watched as your husband froze. You waited a moment and then grinned as Shouto reached for baby Kaito and you easily handed him over. You watched with tears in your eyes as Shouto gently bounced with Kaito in his arms, whispering about how much he was going to love him, and how he was going to make Kaito proud to be his son.

“I promise, Kaito, I will never ever let you or your beautiful mama get hurt, and I promise you no matter what happens, I will love you forever and always.”

this made me really soft and kinda was like “maybe pregnancy isn’t that bad???” anywho, hope you enjoyed and have a good rest of your day!!!!!

bonus!

The entire old Class 1-A shuffled through the hallways of the hospital, each claiming to see a different patient so that they could all visit your room.

“Okay, just in case you bozo’s don’t know how to behave around babies, do not scream when we walk in. They are shits to be put to bed, and if you wake up y/n-chan’s sleeping baby, I will end you!” Mina threatens as she eyes down the… louder members of the class. “Second of all, it’s a baby, so don’t talk to it expecting answers, and most importantly, do not. I repeat, do NOT, throw the baby around like it’s some game!”

She gave an obviously pointed glare at Kaminari.

“I’m so excited!” Momo squeals right before they open the door, and with numerous amounts of presents and balloons on hand, nineteen Pro-Heroes entered the room and froze. The sight in front of them making them speechless. Shouto was laying on the bed with you, his arm behind you giving you comfort, and the baby laying on your chest asleep. For the matter at hand, all three of you were asleep without a care in the world.

Some members of the party had to bite down on their hands to keep them from screaming.

Later that night when Shouto woke up for a few minutes and checked his phone for any messages, he then saw a picture of the three of them asleep on the hospital bed on the group chat, with a caption:

‘What a beautiful family, can’t wait for more pictures! Welcome to the family Todoroki Kaito! We love you!’