#small request

[oneofmanyinterests]

Has anyone done an Alucard x reader where the reader isn't feeling well? Maybe a cold with a sore throat, or a migraine? Nothing terribly gross or bad.

I imagine he'd be a wonderful caretaker with all the knowledge he's gathered, and cuddles when you're unwell can be soothing.

[pumpkinlitost]

so uh can you draw Mosudorah doodle (just for once pls?)

is this the couple? Yeah, they look ok together ... They're supposed to give her little kisses, but they seem to smell her. 😬😬

I´m not a big fan of this two being together, but the draw looks cute 😢

[authorshen]

"Thank You For Calling...

...can I get your name and pronouns, please?" See, it's not difficult.

Being called Sir or Maam instead of what you want to be called may not seem like a big deal to a lot of people. And, it true, to the wider world it isn't a big deal, so it shouldn't be a big deal to change.

It may get you some harumphs from some geriatric stuck in ways as old as they are, but it certainly won't trigger flashbacks, anxiety attacks, therapists visits, or trips to the ER due to heart palpitations and lack of oxygen.

Being Trans, Intersex, or Non-binary (or in my case all three) can be hard. Anyone who finds that their insides don't match their outsides already goes through way too much. Society as a whole puts us through the wringer from birth. Often, we have to pretend to be someone we're not until we are adults. Sometimes it takes even longer.

If call centers asked, we could be ourselves for a while, regardless of what happens in our day to day lives. Customers deserve respect, and the one way to show respect in an 8 minute conversation is to have the goddamn decorum to call us by the correct pronouns.

I don't like to yell, and I don't like to demand, I would rather ask nicely, so here I am asking nicely; Dear customer service, can you change your script please?

[udongesuggestions]

Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a happy and safe holiday season!

I’m thinking about asking for some more questions, so please, by all means. Ask anything you’d like.

[smartcookie727]

Saturday Mornings

Thanks @spikerr for the drabble request after my scary game. Not exactly a drabble, but I liked the idea a lot. Sorry it took a while, but yesterday was quite busy. I just imagined Levy not having the best diet and Gajeel vowing to change it. Let the fluff rain down!

Pairing: Gajevy

Prompt: Kitchen

Length: 1k

Saturday Mornings

"Come on Lev, it isn't difficult. Just move back and forth slowly."

Levy huffed, irritated. "It keeps sticking. Gajeel, please, could you do it for me?"

He wrapped his arms around her and shook his head. "Nope. You gotta learn. Push a little harder and let things cool down a bit. It's too hot."

It was a mystery to Gajeel how Levy had made it this far in life without learning to make a decent plate of scrambled eggs. She could speak over twelve languages, but god forbid you ask her to do more than boil a pot of water. Levy would fret over every single detail: how much salt or milk to add, how long to mix, and the exact number of minutes to cook at each temperature. Yet every time she would still end up with a watery mess. Gajeel, on the other hand, could feel his way around a dish. He didn't need exact measurements, he added enough seasoning he thought it needed, gave a quick taste and added some more. He’d Just mix the eggs and milk until he couldn't see any white, no specific time, and cooked the curds until they were fluffy and soft. It was as easy as—scrambled eggs. But his poor girlfriend was lost without specific measurements or time. This was her fourth attempt this morning, and they were down to their last two eggs.

Gajeel held her hands, cradled around the spatula and handle, and together they moved the egg around pan. His hips swayed as he danced behind her. He'd do anything he could to make her relax and just feel the process, not think about it. She leaned against his bare chest; it felt like home and happiness, everything he wanted on a Saturday morning—cooking breakfast with his love, barely covered in one of his shirts—until he noticed she'd let him take over. Gajeel nudged her forward and let go of Levy's hand.

"Can't just let me do it, Shrimp. I know how to cook eggs. Yer the one who's gotta learn," he purred in her ear, "but that trick nearly worked." Levy smirked before turning her attention back to the stove.

"I still don't see why I have to learn when you make them so well."

"Cause what if I'm on a job? What will you do then? I'm not letting ya go through life not knowing how to cook basic things. You, my love, deserve better than yer own overcooked eggs." Levy moved to interrupt, but he knew what she'd say and quickly kissed her cheek. "And ya can't rely on Mira and the guild forever."

Levy pouted. She didn't like when people acknowledged her problems, especially with something that was supposed to be easy. "I can make pasta."

"Noodles cooked in unsalted water with a canned sauce do not a meal make," Gajeel countered. She wrinkled her nose at him. It was a meal in her book. He took her hand again, gently helping her fold the eggs over. "Think of it like a story. Let the characters develop together but learn to stand on their own. Take them on a journey until they change for the better. Delicious eggy better." Levy snickered. Gajeel came up with some of the most terrible jokes, and she loved him for it. Swiping the eggs one more time around the pan, he took them off the burner.

"What are you doing? Some of it's still raw." Levy reached for the skillet, but Gajeel held it high above her head.

"Ya gotta pull them a little earlier than you'd think. They'll overcook in a minute. I'd rather have runny eggs in the pan and perfect eggs on the plate than perfect eggs in the pan and overcooked eggs on my fork." Levy glared at him. According to Gajeel she'd overcooked every batch she'd made. They'd tasted fine to her, normal in fact. He handed her a plate, sprinkling on just a little extra salt, and thought for a long moment. "It's like ruining something that could have been great. You'd be pissed if I gave you a crap cup of coffee." Levy would be more than pissed if Gajeel couldn't make a decent cup of coffee after as long as they'd been dating. It ran like blood through her veins. "Think of it, Lev. Like a cup made from old coffee grounds that have been sitting in the pantry for over a year brewed with lukewarm water."

Levy shuddered. She didn't even want to think about such a terrible drink. "Ok. I get it. Overcooked eggs are equivalent to a cup of coffee so horrible it should never be spoken of nor imagined again."

Gajeel laughed. If there was one quality culinary thing his little girlfriend understood it was coffee. "Exactly. And you'll never have to worry about that again, cause yer man just showed you how to make perfect scrambled eggs." Levy looked down at the plate in front of her. They seemed different from what she normally had but apparently that was a good thing. "See, they’re soft, fluffy, and delicious; not the rubbery mess ya were eating before."

Scooping up a bite, Levy sighed and licked her lips. "This is really good, but the others weren't that bad."

Gajeel laughed. It was tough to get Levy to set aside her ego, but her effort touched him. "They should be good. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day after all."

"Yeah, but I still miss my chocolate stuff, " Levy said, scooping up another forkful.

"Put it in yer coffee. I'm not letting ya eat those toaster things anymore. Yer sweet enough as is." Gajeel pulled her chair out from under the table and spun it around. "In fact," he straddled her lap, lowering down to kiss her deeply, "Your lips are sweeter than any pastry." She kissed him back, pulling him down onto her.

"And you're cheesy enough to make fondue."

"Oh, so ya know how to make fondue, now?" Gajeel teased. Levy launched them both out of the chair, giggling as they hit the floor and rolled. He kissed her hard at first, then slow, peppering his lips across her skin. It really was a perfect Saturday morning.

[barnbert]

Okay but Aaron could you put that ring back on Robert please? I feel at a loss that his ring finger is so bare

[smartcookie727]

Tears

Thanks @kmmcm for the request. Gotta write to keep myself from freaking out. First time writing bixanna. I hope they came out right. Idk why but I can’t write a short request for you. I had a lot of fun and this just grew and grew; I really love them together. Lemme know what yall think!

Pairing: Bixanna

Prompt: Tears

Length: 1.2k

Tears

Lisanna stood, pinpricks of pain shooting across her feet from sitting on the floor too long. She couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. Bickslow would be back soon. What would he say? A knot twisted in her stomach, threatening to toss whatever little she had left of her lunch. She wasn’t ready—they weren’t ready for this, were they? Lisanna fought an internal war of attrition. Her body screamed to hide the evidence and run, to tell no one, but her head knew Bickslow would be so hurt if she left. Each side pulled her, one way and then the other, until all she could do was sit on the bed and cry.

Breath came fast and haggard until she heard the familiar thud of the front door closing and click of the lock. Time’s up. She needed to dry her tears. Pulling herself together, Lisanna took a deep breath, not ready to face the man she thought she loved. They’d barely said those words weeks ago. How was she supposed to know if they’d still be true after tonight?

Bickslow was peeling off his shirt as she entered the living room. He didn’t like much adornment at home; the man would be comfortable walking around the apartment in just his helmet if he could with as hot as Magnolia was in the summer. Perks to having Bickslow as a boyfriend. It was likely a reason they were in this situation now. He whirled around to face her, giant grin plastered on his face, and she cursed herself, about to break both their hearts.

Bickslow pulled her into a hug, placing a warm kiss on the top of her head. “How’s my Lis this evening?”

“How’s Lis? How’s Lis?” his dolls echoed. One fluttered over to her shoulder, resting on its favorite perch. Lisanna sat down on the couch with a sigh.

“I'm…ok.”

Bickslow peered at her through the metal grating with one green eye before slowly removing his helmet. “You know you can tell me anything, Lis. Lying isn’t gonna fly around me, though.”

“Won’t fly. Won’t fly,” the dolls sang.

Bickslow shooed them away. “Babies, Momma and I need to chat. Go play somewhere else.” The dolls hung in the air for a moment, disappointed they had to leave, but eventually they scattered, chasing each other into the kitchen. His attention turned back to Lisanna. Her face was flushed and tears welled in her eyes. Sitting down, he draped an arm across her shoulder, and she rested her head on his chest. “Now tell me, little bird, what’s got your feathers all ruffled?”

Lisanna sniffled into his shirt before drawing up every ounce of courage she had left. “I’m pregnant.” Bickslow ran his hand through her hair, fingers dancing along her neck before they found their way back to her opal locks. “Bix, it’s yours. I guess from well…you know. And I don’t think I can—I don’t expect you to—I don’t know anything anymore. I’m just scared.”

Bickslow continued to stroke her. “Of course it’s mine, silly. We’ve certainly had ample opportunities.” Tilting his head back, he laughed deep in his belly. “I thought we were doing well with protection, but sometimes we kinda get carried away during foreplay.” Lisanna’s cheeks lit up with a rosy blush; he was certainly right about that. “And I guess my swimmers are stronger than I thought.” Kissing her forehead, he asked, “What are you so scared about?”

Lisanna looked up at him incredulously. “It’s a baby. We haven’t even been together a year. The responsibility—we couldn’t possibly be ready to be parents. Do you even want kids? How are we supposed to—” She was spiraling out of control. Bickslow pulled her up his chest so she was looking straight in his eyes and swiped a finger over her nose.

“Silly little bird, what do you have to be worried for?” Lisanna squinted at him and puffed out her cheeks. Rumbles of laughter rolled through his body, she was too cute when she made that face. “Don’t gimme that look. I’m taking you seriously. I just don’t see what you have to be nervous about.” A black tipped finger slid down her cheek and under her chin, pulling her into a kiss. “Sure we haven’t been together a year. Doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. And we already have five kids. Of course I’d be happy about one more.” Bickslow looked deep into her eyes, passed all her walls of fear and insecurity, to the woman whose soul shone brighter than any other. “Plus, this one will be so special. Cause it was made with a piece of both our souls.”

Fear slowly melted the shell around Lisanna’s heart. He wasn’t going to leave. She hadn’t particularly thought of herself as a mother before, she’d always been the baby, but the dolls did act like children a fair amount of the time. Maybe this wasn’t an end to what she loved; maybe it could be a beginning. Lisanna smiled weakly. “I hadn’t thought of that before.” The pounding in her heart softened. “I’m still not sure if I’m ready,” she paused, kissing him gently, “but it means so much that you’d be alright with this.” The tension in the air started to dissipate and she giggled. “You keep on surprising me. I thought for sure you’d freak out more. I did.”

Bickslow chuckled. “Well I was a little surprised at first, but that was more cause I was sure we used protection every time. After a few days I was pretty calm. Just waiting for you to tell me.” Lisanna stared at him, eyes wide, before lightly slapping his chest.

“You knew? How the hell did you know? I wasn’t even sure until today.”

“Magic, baby. I can see souls, remember?” His eyes glowed in a near comical reminder.

“So you saw our baby’s soul and figured I was pregnant and didn’t even tell me?” she speculated, notes of confusion and teasing in her voice.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “doesn’t work like that. Your soul kinda changed. It got brighter and the shape sort of—it’s complicated. I can’t really explain. I don’t see a specific soul for the baby yet, just almost a small extension of yours. Plus I thought you knew. Don’t you have signs for this stuff?”

“Yeah, but it takes a while to read those signs correctly. You get a free pass for not telling me for now, but next time my soul changes, how about you let me know.”

“You got it, Lis. So…do you wanna tell them yourself or together?” Lisanna gazed at him, unsure of what he meant, and then she smiled, understanding. 

“Babies, come here! We’ve got something to tell you,” she called.

Near instantly they could hear little voices chanting, “coming, coming,” followed quickly with, “tell us, tell us.” 

Tears of joy and relief dripped down over the wild tattoos on Bickslow’s eyes. His fingers brushed Lisanna’s jaw, drawing her lips to his own. His tears came faster as he kissed her, until he was spent and let his head rest on the shoulder of the mother of his child. So softly she almost didn’t hear, Bickslow whispered, “We’re gonna have a baby.”