Hi there! I have just seeing your latest post and I won't lie, I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to tell us. But I do hope with all my heart that you're alright. I'm part of the anonymous group of people who visit your blog regularly and love all your stories quietly. I mean that, I check your blog every day to see if you have new stories. I'm not saying that to add pressure, but I wanted to let you know that your stories bring a lot of happiness to my day and I want to thank you for that
It was an endless ramble with a lot of waxing poetic on literary devices, but it all boils down to extreme changes in my life that I’m trying to reassemble into a new norm. It’s kind of rearranged my priorities.
Gajeel and Levy’s stories are still very dear to me, but things have changed in the audience and me. We’re not on the same page and I was constantly feeling like I had missed a mark somewhere. I no longer want to write, it’s not a bad feeling. But I will stress something I’ve always stressed - even if you remain anonymous, please let anyone that is a writer or artist know that they make you happy. Even if it’s a short and simple thank you, it will go a long way. It will mean so much to them. I understand how intimidating and scary sending messages can be on here, but just know that I believe in you. It’s going be okay. Take your time, you’ll get there one day.
I’ve gotten a few other messages, but I genuinely haven’t had the time to address them. I won’t be on tumblr really at all anymore and, especially, this blog. metalicana has become an archive.
if you’ll pardon me for using the tag, I wanted to be sure this corner of the vast internet plains and fandom valleys (as you can see, I’m just as heavy-handed as ever) that did so much for me saw this - as an apology and thanks.
And I realize that sounds entirely pretentious and that’s definitely not my intention. I come to you in the most humbling voice.
I think about fulfilling promises made in the middle of the night, the glow of my laptop standing as some beacon of familiarity I might reattain if I just reached out far enough (’metalicana believed in the green light’). I want to be inspired and I still get flashes of ideas and half-formed conversations when I’m winding down for sleep...
but it’s not so easy anymore.
there’s a very difficult truth to things - a thousand followers doesn’t have a universal meaning. a thousand for one is completely different than a thousand for another. and unfortunately, it’s nothing like I imagined. I’m left checking and rechecking note counters to see if someone finally reblogged with tags of enjoyment/entertainment/encouragement and clouding my mind with hurriedly spun theories about what must have changed the old norm when there aren’t any.
I had a dream the other night that I actually heard things that every creator fears about their work.
and I’m not myself anymore. I don’t think I can be myself again.
despite all efforts so many things have slipped through my fingers...things I knew were meant to be let go as I moved on....with other things I didn’t plan on letting go being yanked from my grasp. I don’t wish to go into a lot of detail because I can’t bring myself to type the words anymore, but my life’s been completely turned on its head and I try not to go reeling with it every day.
Maybe that’s what’s happening now, not just with me. The audience has changed and moved forward to something different they needed instead. and I respect your moving and only hope, from time to time, you may remember a story or a line or some dialogue and find joy and laughter and happiness and an easy-going sentimentality in my stories.
things have changed and I sincerely hope they’re only for the better for all of you
Is it weird that reading "Can You Hear the Lark" while listening to the song at the same time had me thinking about Casablanca?
Absolutely not weird! The oneshot is set during the 40s, so knowing that you got a Casablanca feel from it gives me complete satisfaction, meaning my intent was met. 😊
one of these days I’ll work something other than aus I started in 2014, but today is not that day
so strange the change (x)
He had remained politely distant and respectful the entire car ride to the airport - yet, she was the Brit.
That brisk morning as bleak as the dark gray coat he wore coiled uncomfortably with the remnants of mid-morning tea in her stomach. She wasn’t used to this side of him, usually he was telling her what she was going to do when, where, and that if she knew what was good for her - if she didn’t want to get shot - she wouldn’t ask why and just do it. It was easier to flagrantly toss her proper upbringing out the window and give him what for if he truly believed she would play second fiddle.
But the harder thing, the thought louder than any other, was wondering to herself if she’d pluck up the nerve to genuinely take his advice and act without restraint, just irrational and defiant.
“McGarden, sometimes logic doesn’t make any sense - that’s what yer gut’s for.”
Levy swallowed thickly as she thought about the long journey home, soaring over land and sea to the bitter, dizzily days on her old road in her flat that didn’t look lived in at all in comparison to his own. Hers was cramped, but now seemed all too big and open and quiet with her orderly, polite life. As the jet to take her back to London roared overhead, gradually lowering to the tarmac, she turned to him.
“The rain on my roof was always so comforting and I swore loyalty for those mornings wet with fat raindrops, coffee in her favorite mug, and a book. I thought it was something only my home had, but it echoes against your roof in the exact same pitch and you’re awfully good with coffee and hot chocolate and tea…for an American.”
Heavens, if she said that, he’d tell her to get over herself in some scathing way that somehow managed to misuse - in a completely accurate way - a turn of phrase he’d heard her say. Levy huffed bemusedly, he’d cantankerously look over his shoulder to gripe about her peeling her face off the pavement and do something for once. And she’d shoot back - with every restraint not to grit her teeth at him - that it was ‘chasing pavements’ and she did plenty in her life, she was a spy. Her eyes flicked up to the broad shoulders hunched forward under his coat, as if planning to meet the rain head on should it make due on its threat to finally spill.
A sense of ire pulled at her for the muttered, “Whatever,” he no doubt would have distractedly thrown back at her.
Something different pulled at her heart when the thought passed that she wouldn’t ever have the chance to have such a conversation with him again.
As they came to a halt several yards from where her private plane sat waiting to flit her back East over the pond, she shook her head and squared her shoulders. Levy shot her hand out in front of her, waiting - hoping - for him to take it take it. One sad, unspoken token to remember him by for the rough calluses on his palm as it brushed hers and her hand barley wrapping around all of his and the pads of fingers ghosting near her wrist. She’d happily welcome a repeat of his observation that she had the handshake of a child for what it would be worth to her.
She cast away the thought and grinned. “Well, Mr. Redfox. It was indeed a pleasure to work with you on this case. You’ll do me the favor of relaying my farewell’s to Makarov and the others?”
For the first time since they set out that morning, he glanced toward her. His mouth pulled tightly and she hadn’t thought a more firmer line was capable. He still didn’t speak, her heart sank for what she could have done to completely dissuade him from speaking to her altogether.
He didn’t take her hand.
She could have boxed his ears for it, but instead, Levy took a deep breath and released it slowly to calm her nerves and steel her voice. “You’ve made it quite apparent in the past that you believe goodbyes are a waste and I’m inclined to think they’re dreadful depending on the situation, but…We can’t completely leave on a bad note, Gajeel. If I’m called back to the States, we could be on the same assignment.”
Gajeel looked at her, tilting his head in the tell-tale action one might use when speaking to a child, pretending to seriously consider whatever they said. It it made her heart out like wriggling fish on a hook. She could feel the dam threatening to crack inside her, spilling whatever truths or even lies she held inside of her to get him to say something. “I know I was nothing but a royal pain in your ass and we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on much of anything, but please, don’t look at me like that. I’m being genuine. It’s a big world, but it’s a small organization we’re in.”
He shook his head in turn, breaking the halfhearted eye contact he had held with her for all of two minutes. Gajeel narrowed his eyes against the onslaught of wind stirred up by the jet as it settled to the ground. “Yer being generous with the situation. We barely survived each other just from this one case, kid. ‘Sides, aren’t Brits still not too jazzed about us yanks?”
“Neither of us ever took a shot, if I recall correctly. But, yes, dreadful opinionated lot, those Brits, but I think it’s all water under the bridge for us now.”
He smirked and a bit of the Gajeel she was used to fluttered over the unreadable look on his face from before. “Don’t ya mean ‘all tea in the harbor’?” Levy laughed as her hair beat mercifully against her cheeks as the storm rolled nearer in the distance and relief washed through her. The pilot and flight crew wouldn’t have much time for her antics, they needed to pull ahead of the storm if she expected to be in London on time. Even still, she couldn’t bring herself to take that first step away from him. The air was charged with the tiny flashes of lightning splitting the sky in the far, far distance and she felt all the more reckless for it, standing in front of this man.
Unbidden, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her nose stung with the crest of emotion, from laughter or fear or daring, she wasn’t sure.
If Makarov Dreyar had told her a month ago that she was to work with the rogue outlaw and one-time top ranked guerrilla that nearly had most of her agency’s members in numerous countries, Levy McGarden would have promptly handed in her resignation forms without one look back. And if the master had pulled her to the side, warmly taken her into confidence that she would come to trust the same man with her life undoubtedly….Well, she would have made due on a lengthy backlog of lectures on the older man’s poor taste in pranks and jokes.
Never mind falling completely mad for him.
Levy bit her lip, quietly asking, “Are you going to say anything?”
Gajeel turned to her fully this time, putting his back to the plane and ticking his head in its direction. “Ride home’s waitin’.”
She huffed and pulled her hands from her pockets. Despite the gloves she wore, a numbing cold bit at her fingertips. She fished for a memory in hopes of bringing feeling back to them. One where her fingertips drowned and twisted in the rumpled fabric of his shirt with her knuckles pressed so hard to his chest she could feel his heartbeat in her right hand as she yanked him to her level and handsomely threatened him for a particular stunt.
The cold only made itself more apparent.
“So, is this how you’re- you won’t-?”
Before she could finish her questions all breaking through at the same time, before she could blink, his own hands jerked from his coat’s pockets to set on her shoulders. They were so impossibly small, the width of this hand covered them, the warm and worn leather of his gloves brushing against the side her neck when they settled.
“It’s like this, right?” Gajeel closed the gap between them, allowing the corner of his mouth to linger on her cheek before he pulled away to mimic the treatment on the other side.
Levy blinked, carefully swallowing the lump caught in her throat. She forced the tears and novel happy endings and all sense of self back as she swallowed. Before he could move his hands away, she placed her smaller ones over them. She tried her best to memorize the way her fingers rested over his.
“Would you ask me to stay?” The question caught him off guard, startling his steady touch on her and pitching his weight in reverse, Levy gripped his hands all the tighter and saught his gaze, unwavering and demanding that he best not look away that time - if only for his own good.
“You’ve got yer life back in London and Makarov’s already got my next case lined up.” Gajeel scowled. “And what would we do? Levy, we’re never home and our lot’s really only made for partners we’re assigned at work Not to mention the glaring fact that we can’t go five minutes without you chastising me like I’m yer brat or yanking yer ass out of trouble for followin’ some archaic spy rule literally no one but you has heard or seen.”
“My life back in London is a half existence, I’m hardly home and I can’t really make connections at the moment.” Levy let go of his hand to gesture wildly around them. “We don’t have to do this for the rest of our lives.” She stepped up closer, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head squawking about propriety and the like as she unabashedly invaded his space.
It was only fair, he invaded her senses first.
“I’m not denying we won’t be kept busy or apart for unspecified lengths of time and I’m not saying we’ll be two peas in a pod for even a third of the time, but I could withstand it and that third of a time would be reasonably worth, in my opinion.” Her brow furrowed and she scoffed. “Speaking of work, Makarov’s pulled me from London to America so many times, I might as well be American. I’m sure Customs has a going bid on when I’ll finally apply for dual citizenship or just give up the other completely.”
Levy tipped her head up, searching the low clouds. “The world’s changing and Makarov sees it coming over the horizon, he’ll need all of us here. Where the main offices are. This,” Levy raised onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his cheek. “Would be compensation for hours so long it feels like your bloodstream’s been traded out for coffee.”
She moved to his other cheek and repeated the action. “For when the stray day off comes along and everything’s too quiet.”
She retreated to hover over his mouth. “Redfox, it’s for when the world changes and it’s time for us to take our next assignment. Side-by-side while you crack uncouth jokes about me having tea at precise hours of the day or mimicking my speech pattern just to drive me crazy and we make it big together.” Levy leaned in to close the distance between them a third and final time, his breath ghosted over her mouth and-
Gajeel turned his head. “Shagotte and Lil’ were a fluke coincidence, McGarden. You can’t expect us to have that kinda ending too.”
It was then that she did something wholly un-her and would have had her old governess curling her toes in disgust. Levy jerked her face away from his hand and tangled her hands in his lapel, yanking him forward to have their mouths crash together. Without insistence, one of his hands angled her jaw and the other slid through her hair. She gasped as he lightly scratched at the nape of her neck, eliciting a teasing chuckle from him.
She tilted her head to press her mouth to his once more - whatever one-liner he had prepared for her could wait. “Lily’s infinitely more proper and polite than you, not to mention he can tell a joke without making me the punchline, but I’m not asking for him or them. I’m asking for you, for us.”
“And what’re you gonna do if that goes to hell and we drive each other insane?”
He paused, keeping his mouth close to hers as he spoke and she smiled - at least she knew whatever vertigo she felt around him was mutual.
He huffed, making a show of “Do I really have to ask?”
“Mhmm.”
“You’re off yer rocker, irritating, and the most uppity dame I’ve ever met. And if ya get me killed, I’m gonna haunt you in the afterlife. Now, will you please go put the pilot out of his misery and tell 'im you won’t be needin’ a flight back to London?”
I | II | III
gratuitous amount of natu + gajeel brotp
“So, did I miss a news story about burglars that are particularly invested in fancy and extensive volumes on sign language being on the loose?”
Gajeel turned in his spot, groaning as his cousin leaned against his book case - with one shelf criminally ransacked and showcasing a layer of dust that would have his mother cringing. And with that train of thought, he realized having to answer to Natsu was infinitely easier than answering to Voeda Redfox. Especially since Voeda Redfox would know exactly why the books were missing.
He shrugged, “We never use them anymore, so I donated them.”
Natsu tucked his tongue in his cheek, fighting a face-splitting grin. “You’ve never been a good liar.”
“That wasn’t a lie. Someone who doesn’t know sign language is in possession of them…for free and for an unstated amount of time.”
“Charitable. And you wouldn’t have lent them to her for personal gain now, would you?”
New beginnings weren’t particularly up his alley, but Makarov had contacted him and proffered news of someone Cobra - Erik, the assuming old geezer called him - had a keen interest in. A someone that was living and protected by her new beginnings and haunted by clouds rolling in on her subconscious as halfway memories started to wake her in the middle of the night.
Fair Tail’s doors swung open and, for a brief second, he moved to shield his eyes - as if he was walking into broad daylight rather than the infamous guild’s dimmed hall. He scoffed at himself, making a show of rolling his shoulders.
Just as much of a three-ring circus as he’d left them, brawling and drinking and assaulting his sensitive hearing with the fervor of a personal vendetta. Though their bad blood had been cleared months previous.
A new ire tugged at the nasty scar over his eye, Makarov had a habit, from what Sting had relayed to him, who had been enlightened by Rogue, who had had his ass handed to him by Gajeel - all of them wearing that same freaking peaceful look on their faces. New beginnings weren’t particularly up his alley, but Makarov had contacted him and proffered news of someone Cobra - Erik, the assuming old geezer called him - had a keen interest in.
A someone that was living and protected by her new beginnings and haunted by clouds rolling in on her subconscious as halfway memories started to wake her in the middle of the night.
The Master had lured him from jail, a jumble of conditions and agreements that he didn’t care to steep himself in. All that mattered was that he was essentially Makarov’s charge and responsibility like an errant child. Jail had been hell with Lahar and Doranbolt constantly baiting him from his magic cage, but momentary probation with Makarov was bound to be much worse. Someone had seethed something about furlough as he’d been marched out.
But it wasn’t one he asked for and he for damn sure didn’t want it.
He wasn’t a bleeding heart and he was just fine leaving the past in the past and maybe being a little sentimental for thinking it for the better. But the old man’s lot thrived on loyalty and justice, no doubt planning his death without endangering the good name of their guild master if he misbehaved. He somehow fell within their standards for fresh starts where they didn’t need to be started and Cobra smirked, ticking his head up as shocked faces dropped heavy jaws into half filled mugs and the Titan mage himself grinned cunningly.
A fist all too warm and familiar yanked in his collar and dragged him face-to-face with the Salamander. Seven years taken from him, but given to the poison dragon slayer added a boost to his ego.
He was at least a head taller. His smirk only stretched as the fire dragon slayer growled, a challenging glint flashing in his eye.
"I didn’t think you were stupid enough to waltz right in here after busting outta jail. Guess there’s gotta be one kinda dragon magic that rots your brains, Cobra.”
Cobra rolled his eye, the movement pulling once more at the scar over his face. “I didn’t break out. Your master bailed me out for a furlough.”
“Tch, yeah right, Gramps hates you. You’re also being pinned with heavy charges-”
“And no good deed goes unpunished, I know. Besides,” Cobra jerked Natsu’s hand out of his shirt and scowled, lifting his sleeves to reveal metal cuffs with no links. “I’ve gotta matching set on my ankles, personally commissioned by some of yers.” He felt a pulse in his scar, his patience thinning. “I’m not here for my own holiday and he does not hate the reason for me being here. I was bought to be taken under his wing to speak with someone. We’ll settle our score later, Dragneel, but you’re not my focus right now and I still got 20 to life after that.” Cobra curled his claws into the younger dragon slayer’s palm and worked to free his clothes from Natsu’s hold.
Natsu smirked and regained his grip, dragging his prey closer to him - intentionally shaking Cobra as he did. “Oh, yeah? Well, have at it, old man. I got all the time in the world compared to you.”
The poison dragon slayer shoved the younger mage away, a growl underlining his irritation at the jab. “You do realize I’m not even 30, don’t you?”
"Gramps says that stuff all the time." A seething protest rolled over the noise of the guild, but Natsu grinned and continued on unphased. "Doesn’t make him sound any younger."
Cana Alberona chucked an empty glass at Natsu, smiling wider when her target ducked and let it smash against the wall behind him. He flinched as the glass shattered dangerously close to his one good eye.
“Aw, let the sssslider get to his business, he’s on specific orders to see someone and yer not on the visitation list.”
The card mage winked at Cobra before falling back into her booth, the distinct clink of mugs chiming the arrival of her. He narrowed his eyes on the place Cana had disappeared at, muttering curses to last the woman a lifetime. As if the current banes of his existence didn’t need more encouragement, a chuckle filtered into his hearing. It was low and rumbled deep like a dragon’s roar.
He hated this entire guild and their twisted ways. There couldn’t be those shades of gray where they seethed one second, ready to coil back for a helluva strike, and then, kid him like he was one of their own. He sure as hell wasn’t looking to follow in Sting and Rogue’s footsteps and he was even less inclined to recognize a Drake, not even the tiniest camaraderie for the shared title of dragon slayer. Those words that were on the tip of his tongue for the iron shadow lodged in his throat when Makarov cleared his throat and nodded to a back room.
“There will be another time for pleasantries, my children.”
Cobra scoffed and turned his back on the old guild master, taking one step closer to the door he was motioned to.
“And Erik?”
A low growl escaped him when he caught the discernible chuckles of Dragneel (“You’re name’s Erik?”) and Fullbuster - hell, even Salamander’s cat - as he turned back.
“I trust you’ll be on your best behavior.”
Damn, he missed jail.
Cobra rolled his eye and hissed under his breath, “Depends on what you define as ‘best’.”
Makarov’s eyebrows only raised in response and he sighed, “Yes, all right. Best behavior and all that, you got it.”
Besides, she always had a knack for keeping him in some semblance check anyways.
Not that he was about to voice that particular thought to his new, pseudo-guardian. Or anyone for that matter, no matter how many weighted looks he received from one of the oldest of Fairy Tail’s first gen’ dragon slayers. Drake mumbo jumbo or not, Cobra wasn’t on his terms - he had a parole board and the overreaching, Titan hand of Makarov to answer to, he didn’t need an additional draconic hierarchy to tell him he had screwed up every way he could, the exception being his work on July 7th with the dragons.
He heard every thought and felt every eye on his back as his hand fell to the doorknob.
The thoughts were ones he shared - though that didn’t exactly feel like a token of comfort. He didn’t think he’d be able to meet her eye or be anything close to good news for her either. He was out on loan and there wasn’t any sliding through loop holes to extend it or even vanquish it altogether.
It was either a late rite or a tacked on punishment.
Either way, he’d earned more than a fair dose of mistrust and it had been all too easy when she didn’t know who he was.
Here goes nothing.
AN: an anon requested kinabra and when I tried to post it, tumblr ate the ask with the oneshot. this was an idea started and mostly penned on July 9th 2014, so shout out to the anon for getting this out there. I didn’t add much to it, I like the horrendously vague ending. I have possibilities for this one.
I | II | III
gratuitous amount of natu + gajeel brotp
“So, did I miss a news story about burglars that are particularly invested in fancy and extensive volumes on sign language being on the loose?”
Gajeel turned in his spot, groaning as his cousin leaned against his book case - with one shelf criminally ransacked and showcasing a layer of dust that would have his mother cringing. And with that train of thought, he realized having to answer to Natsu was infinitely easier than answering to Voeda Redfox. Especially since Voeda Redfox would know exactly why the books were missing.
He shrugged, “We never use them anymore, so I donated them.”
Natsu tucked his tongue in his cheek, fighting a face-splitting grin. “You’ve never been a good liar.”
“That wasn’t a lie. Someone who doesn’t know sign language is in possession of them...for free and for an unstated amount of time.”
“Charitable. And you wouldn’t have lent them to her for personal gain now, would you?”
Oh, he was busted.
He narrowed his eyes and huffed, irately making a show of turning off his hearing aids and showing them deep into a pocket of his jeans.
His cousin’s grin only stretched as his hands began to move in front of him. “Nice come back.”
Ignoring the infuriating tilt to Natsu’s grin and that damnable way he signed that somehow managed to be irritating, he signed right back - the movements cut short and hurried. “That was supposed to be the sign to get out.”
“Do you always make terrible puns unintentionally when you sign or is that just a party trick? Because I have tips on better ones that are actually funny.”
Gajeel threw his hands up and turned on his heel, easily stepping over Steel stretched out in the floor and into the kitchen. There was not going to be any fraction peace - hearing aids or no - with Natsu around.
Especially a Natsu that was obviously sent on a reconnaissance mission by his mother, who no doubt became overly curious after Gajeel’s own cryptic answers and his dad’s wildly far-fetched retelling of the day in the supermarket. If he knew they would be less noisy and invasive if he went through with the surgery, he’d gladly put himself in debt to do so.
With a huff, he dug the aids back out of his pocket, turned them on (against all better judgement), and started work on the week’s worth of dishes piling up in his sink. “So, someone wanted to learn ASL, I fail to see why that’s worth an interrogation. We’re supposed to be encouraging it.”
“Oh, ho ho.” Natsu happily helped himself to the refrigerator, filching a soda and obnoxiously popping the tab slowly. “Contraire. There’s no wrong in wanting to be more socially inclusive, but when it’s a very pretty girl that bumps into you in the supermarket and gets your face to light up like a Christmas tree, there’s plenty of need for an interrogation, investigation, and encourage-ation.”
“Encourage-ation isn’t a word, Einstein.”
“No, but I was going for a theme there.”
“And the intellect of the human race is sadder for it.” He tossed a dry dish towel at Natsu, silent command that he was going to steal his drinks and solicit for who-knows-how-long in his apartment, he was going to make himself useful.
“Also, if you wanted to serve an accurate insult, you’d reference a literary icon, not a scientific one.”
“Also, you ever been told Lucy has you watching too many Rom-Coms?” Gajeel mocked.
The younger man snorted, halfheartedly wiping down a plate before plunking in a dish tray to finish drying. “That’s stupidly archaic of you. I happen to be progressive enough to enjoy those kinda movies too. It’s one of the reasons why I figured asking Luce to marry to me was a good idea.”
Gajeel huffed, scrubbing the dried grease off of a spatula. “Good luck, Heartfilia.”
“Y’know, you’re awfully chatty today, which means you’re in less of a sour mood than usual. That girl must have been extremely attractive and, judging by your shelf, extremely impressive.”
Gajeel washed the suds from a bowl, dipping it flick excess water from it in an effort to avoid letting Natsu allow a puddle to grow at their feet - he had always been a shit dish dryer. “Y'know you’re all even more transparent.”
“Look, it’s just-”
Gajeel pointedly tossed a handful of silverware into the sink in front of Natsu. “I know what it is. It’s an appreciated pain in my ass-”
“You’re welcome,” Natsu said as he stuck his (bony as hell) elbow in Gajeel’s ribs.
“-but, there’s this glaring fact that I’m not five, I’m just deaf.”
“It’s not because you’re deaf.” He quieted when Gajeel shot him a look. “Okay, a little because you’re deaf.” Natsu raised the hand with the white towel and waved it between them. “It’s different with that because a lot of people are inherently exclusive and-”
The older man bit his tongue and swallowed, cursing himself for even letting Natsu into his apartment in the first place. He dreaded saying what he was about to and already regretted saying it. There was only one possible outcome with two different possibilities.
His mother would be told and he would receive a rapid fire of ten separate texts asking to know more and what he was going to do, if he was going to ask her out, etc.
Or.
His mother would be told and he would receive a rapid fire phone call that would leave his head reeling.
Gajeel took a deep breath. “The second time I saw her in the store - I spoke to her and even showed the additional head gear, why I was able to hear her and speak and all that - and she smiled, and started signing.” He handed another clean plate over, not taking his eyes off of the mountain of suds in the sink. “It’s different. She’s different.”
“Different, as in a new friend different or...?”
He sighed, “Seriously? I don’t know. And you people aren’t making it easy, just so you know.”
Natsu snorted, “Welcome to the club.”
Gajeel dropped a pan back into the dishwater with an audible thunk. “Wha- Natsu, she’s already wearing your ring, you’re not part of ‘The Club’ anymore.”
“I’m an unsure guy that’s stupid in love with someone I can’t stop making an idiot of myself in front of, that’s a lifelong membership.”
Gajeel swallowed, slowly nodding as he handed over a skillet to be dried. A beat of silence passed between them before he spoke again. He smirked.
“But in yer defense, you made an idiot out of yerself way before Lucy.”
@chesxca It’s definitely an undertaking, that’s for sure. mine’s been in haphazard works for three years and it doesn’t even cover/encompass a grain of what the original source of story does
‘‘Cause there’s a man who has no voice, there ours shall go singing. My hands are small, I know...’
► White Noise l A Fairy Tail Fanmix
1. Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band / 2. Heart Skips A Beat - Lenka / 3. She’s So High - Tal Bachman / 4. Everywhere - Michelle Branch / 5. I’ve Just Seen a Face - Jim Sturgess / 6. There She Goes - The La’s / 7. Little Talks - Kurt Hugo Schneider & Kevin Olusola / 8. Ho Hey (feat. Alex G) - Tyler Ward / 9. Your Song (Cover) - Janet Devlin / 10. She Is Love (Bonus Track Version) - Parachute / 11. Photograph - Ed Sheeran / 12. I’ll Be - Edwin McCain / 13. Love Me Like Your Style - Taylor Swift & Ellie Goulding
as the tracks are being finalized and I go on a mad rush for some sort of cover art for the mix, I do want to say that this (and really all of my playlists) follow a narrative. Even as it spills forward into a narrative that you haven’t seen yet. but with this particular playlist, it will follow a back-and-forth narrative from Levy and Gajeel’s alternating pov.
I’m kind of eager for you to see this one and maybe try to gleam an idea for how the story will play out.
I’m just now realizing the task I have put to myself with these because so many wiiiiiiips and I can’t immediately think of anything because I’m constantly checking my adjective game with a thesaurus. but anyways.
so one hundred years later, I find I don’t actually use the word stunning in any wips??? I use synonyms too often, apparently. Here’s a snippet from a Christmas tree thing I started to type out forever ago but too late to do anything with and only half way-ish done, but definitely puts stunning to use?
When they pulled up to a mansion, she paled.
Her beat down Jeep and beat up boots felt too small in the moment he pulled up to a back door, letting her out so she wouldn’t have to trudge through the snow from where he’d have to park her car.
Levy bit her lip and reached for the door handle.
“No one’s gonna jump ya, if that’s what yer worried about.”
She shook her head. “I can’t even afford to look at this house.”
For once, she was relieved when she was met with his rude, derisive snort. “Good, because it’s not for sale.”
I've gotten a couple of requests here and there, so I guess I need to do some story telling: - I got a new job! - practically every procedure is backwards from what I was used too and it's made for an extensive, intense training period - my shifts are all 7 to 8 hours and most of them are late nights - atm I don't have the time or inspiration to devote to the neat-o requests I'm getting - however!!!! your requests are being filed away for when I get the chance 😊 Thank you so much for the interest, support, and patience!
find me in the valley @metalicana - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
