Rules: List your top 5 (completed) fics of 2018 with the most hits, with the first line of dialogue from each of them. Then tag 5 people.Â
I donât actually post my work on AO3 (I probably should... New Yearsâ Resolution, perhaps), so I guess Iâll base this off Tumblr notes? Oh, gosh, my works have so few notes because Tumblr doesnât record hits lmao.
Fool Me Never, 15 notes
He carried no weapons and no grimoire, as he heard the Roadwarden required, and wore a mask that concealed his face from the nose upwards, and as such was allowed to pass with a simple nod from the guards. Â âEnjoy the party,â one of them said with a smile.
Interpretation is Relative, 15 notes
After making sure Aloth hadnât landed on anything particularly hard or sharp (she didnât think there was anything in this closet besides some coats, a picnic basket, and cleaning supplies, but just in caseâŚ), she turned to the door and slammed both fists into it with a thud that would have made thunder proud. âWhat are you guys doing?â she demanded.  âWhat the hell?!â
Restart, 30 notes
He murmured, âWatcher,â almost as soon as she rounded the corner, and Junisce wondered if it was a lucky guess or if she really hadnât improved her stealth at all since coming to the Dyrwood.
Treatise, 34 notes
He was about half a sentence away from total re-immersion when Iselmyrâs voice pierced the back of his mind. Â Fye, ah dinnae git it! Â Yer spellbook was bad enouâ when ye were in thâ Academy!
The Weight of Stardust, 47 notes
This one isnât from Pillars of Eternity, actually... I wrote it for a gift exchange in a fandom that was very special to me several years ago. The person I wrote the story for never acknowledged it, and the person who was supposed to write me a story never did, but to this day, I think this is my most popular piece of writing. I am quite proud of it.
âTch.â  He grits his teeth and goes to pick it up again, unwilling to be defeated by a bunch of parchment shoved inside a leather case, and one of the pages flips under his palm, slicing unevenly through its callouses. [...] A growl bubbles in the back of Gajeelâs throat and he cracks his knuckles. âWho the fuck put a spell on you,â he seethes behind his teeth.
I would like to tag @nanadanonini and @crimsonbluemoon! I think most of my other writer friends have been tagged in this game already, but anyone else who would like to do it: consider yourself tagged by me!
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For @chamilsanya for the Fairy Tail Valentineâs Day Fic Exchange
I apologize for the lateness of this, but I hope that you had a wonderful Valentineâs day and I hope you enjoy reading what I came up with.
Title: The Weight of Stardust
Summary: People often say that you can fall in love with a good book. Gajeel never expected to take that saying literally.
Warnings: canon-typical non-graphic violence, language, very brief mentions of death
Many folk believe in the magic of books, in the power of words to sweep a being from one reality into a spiral of fantastical creation that leads to somewhere else, somewhere in their minds where a myriad of different lives can be lived and experienced absorbed. Â But there are few who believe this magic has a form and life of its own.
Lucy Heartfilia is one of the few who does, and it is for this reason that she drops to her knees and cries when she sees that her library, her haven, and a home she knows she shares, is burning and skewered with iron. Â Thereâs a warm hand on her shoulder, thenâshe thinks it must be Natsuâbut as Lucy looks up and into the air, she can swear she sees the stardust of spirits no longer bound to anything and cast adrift into the world.
The fire dies eventually, and later, Lucy will be grateful to Natsu for eating the flames that remained. Â Later, Lucy will be angry at Phantom Lord, the mercenary group who dared to leave their emblem burnt in the foundation of her library. Â But in the moment, all she can feel is a cosmic kind of emptiness as she reaches into the ashes and the cover of a book crumbles, lifeless, in her hands.
 Later, Gajeel of Phantom Lord will be glad he snatched this book from where it laid open on a table before making a burning, iron skeleton of the Fairy Tail library.  Later, heâll feel bad for the destruction.  But in the moment, all he can feel is irritation as the tome in his crushing grip seems to jerk from his hands and onto the dusty forest ground.
âTch.â Â He grits his teeth and goes to pick it up again, unwilling to be defeated by a bunch of parchment shoved inside a leather case, and one of the pages flips under his palm, slicing unevenly through its callouses. Â Gajeel blinks, looks at his palm, and then back at the book. Â He shakes his head and tries again, and a second page viciously turns itself, and an X is marked in his skin.
A growl bubbles in the back of Gajeelâs throat and he cracks his knuckles. âWho the fuck put a spell on you,â he seethes behind his teeth. Â
The book, horrid thing that it is, does nothing but lie there open, sunlight dancing over its pages as the forest shifts in the wind. Â
Gajeel scoffs again and rolls his wrist, feeling magic begin to well inside his arms as he prepares to skewer the book as he did the library hours ago. Â He tells it as such: âReading is for whelps anyway.â
âAh!â
The iron pin streaks through the air and impales the tuft of pages, but it doesnât sound like the slicing of parchment. Â It is, instead, a sound that Gajeel is intimately familiar with. Â It sounds like the pin hit flesh and bone, and when he deigns to look back at the book, there is a moment where the ripped pages look to be bleeding ink.
There is another moment, a much shorter one, where Gajeel sees the spectral image of a person lying atop the book on the forest floor with a ghostly iron pin in her stomach.
He cocks his head to the side and a dark smile creeps over his face. Â Slowly, Gajeel reaches forward with one hand and pulls the pin from the book. Â âHey there,â he drawls slowly. Â âWhat are you?â
The image of a personâdefinitely a girl, he sees now, with what looks like blue hairâflickers twice into existence before blinking out. Â The creature (thing, perhaps?) is still lying on the ground, now bleeding something silver and strange from the place Gajeelâs pin used to be.
Again, however, it vanishes, and Gajeel sits back on his haunches, blowing a piece of his dark hair from his eyes. Â âLook,â he lies, âIâm sorry I hurt ya. Â I didnât know yâwere there.â Â
Birdsong answers him from some distance off in the forest.
âIâm going to pick you up now,â he says very slowly, as though speaking to a child, âand take you to the next town tâ see if someone there can fix ya. Â Okay?â Â He does not voice his wonder over how much he could sell this book for. Â
When the book again does nothing, Gajeel reaches slowly forward and slips his fingers under the front cover. Â The leather there is worn smooth and catches the rough skin of his hands as he slowly starts to ease it closed. Â With an oddly satisfying plffffb sort of sound, the undamaged pages on one side fall on top of the others, and Gajeel is barely a fingerâs width away from closing the cover completely when he smirks and slams it down. Â âGihi,â he snickers, watching a tiny puff of dirt burst from the ground as he does so.
âHey!â Â A stream of faded color and cold mist bursts from the book as though it were a fountainhead, before slowly settling into the shape of a blue-haired young woman with her legs crossed and her cheeks indignantly puffed out. Â The book itself vanishes into the shadows beneath the hem of her short, sunset-orange dress. Â âIf youâre going to pick me up, be more gentle! Â What a brute.â
Never in a millennia will Gajeel admit to falling backwards onto his ass upon seeing her, but the spirit herself could confirm that he most assuredly does. âThe hell are you?â he asks again, leaning forward with an appraising gleam in his eye.
âA spirit who does not appreciate being stabbed and then thrown around,â says the girl. Â âI donât know who you think you are, but youâll bring me back to my library right now if you know whatâs good for you!â
âWhatâs good for me?â Â Gajeel chuckles, the kind of laugh where shadows seem to creep from every curve of his mouth. Â âWhatâs good for me is getting a job done and finding a magic book to sell on top of it,â he says.
Itâs satisfying to see the spirit flinch away as he speaks, and as she moves her arm, Gajeel can see that the orange whatever-kind-of-fabric-spirit-clothes-are-made-of is stained with what looks like silver blood on the left side of the spiritâs stomach. Â Oddly, it glitters like metal in the sunlight, or stars in the night sky.
The spirit seems to notice Gajeel looking at the wound and moves to cover it up again, brow furrowing in ghostly anger. Â âYouâre not going to sell me,â she says bitterly. Â âIâll stay right here if I have to.â
âOh,â says Gajeel, feigning defeat for a moment.  He watches the spirit relax before he smirks and draws more magic into his hand.  âWell, in that caseâŚâ
His hand is encased in iron as he punches the book partially into the ground and hears something crack. Â (Later, Gajeel will realize this was the glue that held the bookâs spine stiff. Â But in the moment, he is merely surprised that books can crack.) Â The spirit cries out again and her image disappears, flickering in the air. Â She appears briefly to be lying on the ground again, but then disappears and falls entirely silent.
Gajeel lets another, âTch,â sound fall from his lips, and reaches to pick up the book, hoping it wasnât damaged enough to be made less valuable. Â He is surprised to find that working his fingers underneath it now is difficult, as if the book weighed as much as ten bricks of equal size. Â Eventually, he pulls it off the ground and close to his face. Â âNow, listen here,â he says. Â âIâm gonna just go ahead and guess that I canât do that too many more times before ya just disappear for good. Â So either youâre gonna come with me nicely, or Iâm gonna leave your pages all over this forest.â
A second passes. Â The book becomes lighter in his grasp, and Gajeel sighs before smiling and packing it away in his traveling sack. Â He thinks tiredly that this magic book had better be worth it.
 It takes two days of walking before Gajeel starts to notice his bag becoming heavier once more.  He stops that night, throwing together a tiny campfire before he pulls out the book and feels that yes, in fact, it is starting to weigh much more than it ought to. He sets it down in front of him and stares at it as though he can burn the spirit away if he glares with enough disgruntled fire.
She doesnât. Â Instead she appears again, still sitting cross-legged, but this time cradling one arm over her chest. Â Her eyes do not look at him, but instead up at the sky.
âWhââ
âI wanted to see the stars,â she says, trying to keep her voice very matter-of-fact, but Gajeel catches the barest hints of emotion. Â Sadness, he thinks, and promptly ignores it.
However, he canât stop himself from asking, âWhy?â as he, too, lifts his head to stare at the night sky and sees random pinpricks of light through the trees.
The spirit doesnât answer. Â In fact, she vanishes after a few moments, and so Gajeel goes to pick the book back up and put it away. Â It remains disproportionately heavy in his hands, and a voice says, Not yet, in his head. Â
Gajeel scoffs, but lets go and leaves the book there. Â For the next couple of hours, he alternates between staring into the forest, staring into the fire, and staring at the book.
The forest is quiet save for the occasional bird call or wolf howl (distant howls, he notes, pleased). Â The fire is warm but small, and at one point Gajeel climbs to his feet and looks for more kindling. Â When he comes back, he realizes he half-expected the book to be gone. Â But it continues to lay in the dirt, non-descript and slightly battered cover like a playground for the fireâs shadows.
Eventually, Gajeel sighs and stares hard down at the book. Â âIâm tired now, short stuff,â he says. Â The book does not answer, and he continues, âHope ya got yer fill of the stars or whatever,â with absolutely no sincerity.
The book lifts into his hands easily and goes back into the back without complaint.
 The next night, and the next, and the next all pass in similar fashion. Around the end of the day, Gajeel feels his bag get heavy, so he finds a spot to camp, lights a fire, and pulls out the book.  The spirit doesnât appear again, but she also wonât let him lift the book again until sheâs had her fill of the stars, at which point Gajeel shoves it back inside his bag and falls asleep.
On the sixth night since Gajeel destroyed the library, he is staring at the book and finds himself asking, âWhatâs yer name?â before he can remember that he isnât supposed to care. Â But reallyâGajeel isnât an expert on books, but heâs heard theyâre supposed to have titles and shit on their front. Â This one has nothing. Â Its cover is made of blank, slightly faded and scratched leather (except for the part where he punched it, which is more than slightly scratched up).
He honestly expects no response, which is definitely why he is surprised to see the spirit sitting atop her book again, head tilted to the side and hair falling like comet trails over her cheeks and neck. Â âMy name?â she asks.
âYeah, yerâyer name, yâknow. Â Books are sâposed to have titles on the outside, right?â Gajeel crosses his arms, feeling embarrassed.
âOh,â says the spirit.  Her voice sounds flat again, and Gajeel is smart enough to realize this is the tone she uses when she doesnât want him to know sheâs upset because sheâs being stubborn. He wonders why, but then sheâs telling him, âThis book doesnât have aâŚname on the outside anymore.  They had to re-do the binding because it was starting to fall apart, so Lucy made me a newââ  She catches sight of his lost expression and stops.  ââŚItâs called Kiss of Curse.  The titleâs inside the book.â
Gajeel thinks he hums in acknowledgement, but his brain gets stuck on the fact that of all the books he could have stolen, not only did he pick up a magical book, he picked up a magical book about romance. Â
A few minutes pass, and Kiss of Curse (no, the spirit, Gajeel decides, because that title sounds stupid) stares up at the sky but doesnât disappear. Â Itâs then, as Gajeel is pondering what a dumb name that is for a spirit to get stuck with, that he realizes what she didnât say. Â
âMy nameâŚâ
âI amâŚâ
He scrunches up his face and asks, âWait, your nameâs not really Kiss of Curse, is it?â
He thinks she looks surprised for a second. Â Then she answers, and it sounds like she kind of wants to laugh at him. âNo, itâs not,â she says. Â She bites her lip. Â âMy nameâs Levy.â
ââKay,â says Gajeel. Â âIâm Gajeel.â He doesnât know why he feels obligated to tell her this, and in fact, later, he regrets it because this makes him feel like he knows the spirit. Â And that would be weird, since, after all, he plans to sell the book that sheâs attached to.
Neither of them says anything for the rest of the night.
But the next night, Gajeel finds himself curious and asks what the hell a story called Kiss of Curse could be about.
Levy tells him, or starts to, and he tries not to act surprised.
 Gajeel notices, as he starts to count down the days until he arrives at a town big enough to sell a magic book, that the spirit isnât healing.  Every night now, even without Levy nagging him by way of weighing down his back, Gajeel pulls out the book and sets it by the fire.  Sometimes the spirit will appear and sometimes she doesnât, but Gajeel honestly isnât sure since heâs gotten in the habit of just leaving her there until morning and then packing the book up again.
However, every time he sees her, he notices that one arm cradled protectively up to her chest and the silver stain in her dress that doesnât ever change.
When they (he, Gajeel reminds himself) are four days out from a good place to look for a buyer, Gajeel doesnât pout, but may purse his lips a little bit as he watches Levy watch the stars, rubbing her wrist very delicately and almost unnoticeably as she does so. Â He feels something then, something like when he turns his body into iron, but localized in his chest. Â There is a heaviness about him, and it pulls him forward so heâs leaning towards the book, towards Levy. Â His heart is most assuredly not made of iron now, though, as he can hear its organic beat in his ears. Â An inexplicable nervousness has taken root in him, as he reaches towards that spot on the bookâs cover, the one he broke.
His hands are powerful, fingers thick and calloused and large enough to wrap a good third of this book in their grasp alone. Â He wonders if he can touch the book without hurtingâcausing more damage. He wants to try.
The feeling of leather under his fingertips lasts only a blink. Â As soon as Gajeel touches the book, Levy shouts, and he looks up in horror.
The spirit seems no more injured than before, but instead, her eyes are terrified and sheâs pulled herself as far away from him as she can. Â Gajeel thinks, as that heavy feeling inside him winds around his lungs and anchors his arm to the grassy floor, that this it what Levy felt when he first struck her book with a pin.
âWhat are you doing?â she asks, holding her arms in front of herself like they could stop Gajeel from getting closer. Â
âI was justâI wanted to see if I couldâŚfix it,â he answers, trailing off towards the end as it dawns on him what a stupid idea that was.  He doesnât know the first thing about books.
Levy shakes her head.  âYouâre lying again, arenât you?â she says, voice empty and vast like the cloudy sky above. âYou donât⌠Youâre lying.  Donât touch me.â  And her form vanishes like mist.
Gajeel lets go of his breath slowly. Â He doesnât think the spirit is watching the stars anymore (there arenât any tonight), and he reaches out to put the book away.
He doesnât touch it, stopping short by a few inches and then pull back as Gajeel reaches into his bag and pulls out a bedroll instead. Â He lies awake for longer than he wants, remembering the story Levy had been telling him of a black mage cursed to destroy the more he loved, and the young mage to whom he taught magic. Â He remembers the last thing she told him, of how one of the young mageâs friends had become a beast and she summoned all her magic to bring him back, but how it cursed her in return with the same horrid contradictions as the black mage.
Contradictions, huh. Â He stares at his hands in the dying firelight, big and meaty and strong and trembling with the emotions he keeps off his face. Â
Gajeel wonders if the story has a happy ending.
 Levy doesnât tell him.  The book is too heavy for Gajeel to lift out of the pack.
 He arrives in town silently and alone a few days later.  Gajeel passes several bookstores as he walks around, and at each one he stops to look inside.  Once, he even lifts Kiss of Curse from the pack and holds it up to the window, but something still feels wrong and he puts it away.  The bag doesnât gain any weight when he pauses, but Gajeel thinks his heart is heavy enough for both of them.
As night begins to fall, Gajeel huffs at his own demeanor and begins to walk around in earnest, looking for a tavern or inn at which to spend the night, but as it turns out, this place seems to be preparing for a festival of some kind. Â Unless Gajeel can find a way to magically triple the money he carries, he lacks any kind of room here.
Turning away from the last warmly-lit tavern at which he has the patience to be condescended, Gajeel walks back through the humid night air and onto the main road. Â Bright paper lanterns line some of the streets, casting a homely glow over the well-beaten roads and elongating the shadows into the alleys. Â As several children nearly barrel into him, Gajeel dodges off into one of those shadowed side roads to avoid the crowds. Â
He just needs to work his way out of town and camp out. Â Shouldnât be a problem.
âHey, buddy.â
Except then it is, because Gajeel is aware of a steady knife point in the small of his back about the same time he becomes aware of the crawling feeling of paralysis magic taking over his body. Â His muscles lock up as though turned to stone and the night air suddenly feels cold on his sweaty skin.
âDonât mind us,â says the voice. Â âJust taking a looksie in yer pack.â Â Indeed, from behind, the bag is worked loose and Gajeel hears it clink and spill onto the dirty stones under his feet.
Youâll be taking a looksie up yer own ass if ya donât shove off, Gajeel wants to say, but he canât speak.  This kind of paralysis wonât last forever on him, he knows. These assholes only have a few more momentsâŚ
âOhhh, there she is,â the voice says brightly after a moment. Â Gajeel doesnât hear the jingling of coin as the mugger stands up again and shakes something in his grip. Â His mind flashes an image of Kiss of Curse, of Levy, through his head, and for a second, his lungs freeze up as though the paralysis was becoming stronger and not weaker. âMy friend here saw this beautâ earlier when you were wavinâ her around, and oh, does she have some powerful juice.â
Gajeel hears a second person behind him scoff. Â âDonât matter,â says the second voice. Â âItâs broken anyways. Â Not worth a damn, much less any money.â Â The paralysis tightens like a chokehold and anger flushes through Gajeelâs body. Â His fingers slowly curl into a fist, but he canât turn around. Â Not yet. The stone skeleton holds.
âEh, alright,â says the first. Â âHurry up and fry it then.â Â The hair on Gajeelâs neck stands on end as the air suddenly charges to make way for a lightning spell.
He sees it happen in his mind.  A horrific, conjured idea of that sickly yellow blast ripping through the book like gun magic, the leather catching and shriveling away⌠And a burst of silver stardust. Â
Gajeel cracks with a roar like thunder, for once in the natural world preceding the lightning as he whips around and casts his arm, transformed into a pillar of iron, out towards the attackers. Â The magesâ eyes go wide as the oneâs lightning spell arcs away from the ground (away from Levy) and up into Gajeelâs arm, coursing through his shoulders, his chest, his legs, and finally into the now-smoldering earth. Itâs a tidal wave of force and the pain ripples through his body with a ferocity only matched by the rage of an angered Iron Dragon.
Thereâs shouting now, from the main road, and Gajeel thinks the dipshits have run off, but his vision is going dark as the sounds draw nearer. Â
âGajeel!â
Itâs mostly a jumbled clamor as his eyes slip closed, but Gajeel hears. Sheâs never said his name before, so he thinks he might be imagining, but the last thing he sees is shocked hazel eyes framed by cosmic blue hair.  âYâgotta go home,â he slurs as the armored footsteps gather around.  âGâback tâ FairyâŚTail.â
Gajeel falls, shielding the book with his torso as the world blurs out of focus and into darkness.
 Waking up has never quite been this much of a struggle, Gajeel thinks, as he groans and wonders when Phantom Lord could afford pillows this nice.
âHey-hey-hey, take it easy!â says a loud voice nearby, belonging to a person Gajeel has never seen before with obnoxiously pink hair. Â
Iâm dreaming, he tells himself.
âLook, I still think youâre a dick for what you did to our library, but Gramps and Lucy specifically said I was supposed to look after you and not beat you up,â the pink-haired man continues, oblivious to the pounding headache building inside Gajeelâs head, one thatâs really reminding him of the lightingâ
âWhat happened to Levy?â he asks suddenly, trying to crane his head around the room and shortly giving up becauseâŚwell, ow.  âWhere am I?â  Thatâs when the unfamiliar smell of this place really hits him, like dust and wood and traces of smoke and old paper, like Kiss of Curse.
Oh. Â He doesnât need to wait for the man in the room to reply, but listens anyway, mostly because he has no choice, as heâs told, âYouâre here, in Fairy Tail. Â You know, that place you tried really hard to wipe out, but failed.â Â Gajeel doesnât think heâs imagining the taunts in this manâs voice. Â âLevyâs here, too,â he adds like an afterthought, as though he was considering not telling Gajeel this. Â âThe guards from that other town thought you both lived here. Â Dunno why.â
âLet me see her,â Gajeel demands, then bites out an added, âplease.â
âWhat? Â No,â comes the reply. Â âNo, no way in hell do you get to come in here, burn our home to the ground, steal Lucyâs best friend, and then just demand to see her like we owe you shit. Nope.â
âNatsu,â calls another, more feminine voice from somewhere beyond this room. âI need your help for a second! Get your butt out here!â
The pink-haired man clicks his tongue in Gajeelâs direction but walks out of the room hurriedly. Â Finally left in silence, Gajeel fears that the sheer number of things he doesnât know or no longer understands is going to consume him. However, itâs barely a minute later that a shorter, much older man walks into the room and hops up on a stool by Gajeelâs bed. Â He clears his throat.
âMy name,â he says sternly, âis Makarov.â His eyes seem to glint like knives, and Gajeel can feel the magic pouring off the man. Â Another mage then. Â This one, powerful.
Gajeel says nothing.
After a moment, Makarov breathes and speaks again. âYou destroyed my home,â he says, âand hurt my family. Â I must say, most people in your position would still be in jail right now.â
âTch,â Gajeel says with a sigh. Â âSo why arenât I, old man?â he asks boredly, preparing for the inevitable speech about these people wanting their own revenge.
Heâs shocked into silence and out of his bitter glare, then, when Makarov produces a familiar worn, leather-bound and title-less book from behind his back and places it across Gajeelâs thighs.
âBecause you also saved one of my children,â he replies very simply. Â For a few heartbeats, Gajeel thinks he sees something like respect in the worn eyes of this old manâMakarovâbut then it fades back into seriousness. Â âDonât mistake meâyou and I need to have a good, long, talk about your future. Â But I think that can wait a few minutes.â Â
And he hops off the stool and walks solemnly out the door, closing it firmly behind him.
A slight burn begins to build in the muscles of his shoulders before Gajeel is able to look away from the door and down to where his hands hover above the worn bindings of Kiss of Curse. Â It still looks almost the same as it did when he last saw it, but the dent in the binding has been smoothed over a bit. Â Gajeel wonders if the pages inside have also been fixed. Â He wonders if they can be, or if Levy will always have that strange scar of stardust on her stomach.
Gajeelâs own chest clenches at the thought and he pulls his hands back. Â Then, quickly, he sets the still-lifeless book back down on the stool nearby, tearing his grip from it as soon as itâs securely set down as though the leather had burned him. Â He falls back into the bed with a sigh.
âHey.â  Gajeel blinks and looks to the side of his bed.  Sure enough, a specter of a girl with eyes like the forest canopy and hair like comet dust is perched there, knees drawn together to support her arms, which are ramrod-straight as she leans ever-so-slightly forwards.  Gajeel notes with a feeling  ofâŚrelief, he thinks, that the silver stain is not a scar on top of her orange dress.  âSorry.â
Itâs only as she apologizes that Gajeel realizes heâd been silent too long. Â He gapes at her. Â âWhatâre you sorry for?â he demands. Â âAll of this is my fault.â
âI guess youâre right,â Levy says, sighing.
Neither of them say anything for a long while, then, too wrapped up in the strangeness of this whole encounter, seeing too many broken bridges to cross the awkwardness. Â Levy swings her legs absently, almost kicking the bed each time. Â Gajeel wonders if her feet can bump into it or if they would slide right through the solid wooden frame. Â He wonders a lot of things about Levy.
âYou never told me,â he says at last.
âHm?â
âHow the story ends.â Â Gajeel nods towards the top of the stool, even though he canât see the book right now. Â âThereâs gotta be a kiss at some point, right? Â If itâs called Kiss of Curses.â
Levy puffs her cheeks out.  âWell, yes,â she says, âbut first⌠I mean the black mageâZerefâand Mavis arenât even together yet, where we left off.  That has to happen first before they kiss, I mean, itâs only natural.â  Sheâs smiling now as she adjusts her posture.  âOkay.  Where were weâŚâ
Gajeel grins and settles back against the pillows. As he listens to Levy speak, watches her misty form move and sway and animate with the force of her story, a foreign feeling of serene warmth suffuses his tired body.
Later, Gajeel will work on earning back the trust of Levyâs family and struggle to find a home here. Â Later, he will realize the warmth Levy leaves in him is not a weight dragging him down, but a source of strength, and he might even call it love. Â But in this moment, Gajeel is content to lay still and hear the end of Levyâs story. He thinks maybe, there might be a happy ending in here after all.
F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes youâve written and explain why youâre proud of it.
âNo, thatâs okay. Â You go,â said Caleb. Â His voice was soft, as it always was, but firm, and Nott registered a squeeze to her hand. Â She wanted to smile. Â âIâll stay here.â
A minute or so passed quietly and Nott assumed that Jester and Caduceus had moved off to help the others. Â But, eventually, Caleb spoke again, accent wrapping tight around his words like choking ivy vines. âYou scared me, Nott the Brave,â he said. âYou werenât moving, and for a moment there, I thoughtââ he breathed ââwell. It doesnât matter what I thought because itâs not true. Â You are alive. Â But I wasnât there for you and Iâm sorry.â
From this drabble request. Okay, technically this is a monologue, not a dialogue, but I still really like it. I have such a hard time writing Caleb that I canât help but be proud of this one.
Also, because I know youâre not really a CR fan, hereâs a bonus snippet featuring some GaLe angst from The Weight of Stardust, which I like because character development:
The spirit seems no more injured than before, but instead, her eyes are terrified and sheâs pulled herself as far away from him as she can. Â Gajeel thinks, as that heavy feeling inside him winds around his lungs and anchors his arm to the grassy floor, that this what Levy felt when he first struck her book with a pin.
âWhat are you doing?â she asks, holding her arms in front of herself like they could stop Gajeel from getting closer. Â
âI was justâI wanted to see if I couldâŚfix it,â he answers, trailing off towards the end as it dawns on him what a stupid idea that was.  He doesnât know the first thing about books.
Levy shakes her head.  âYouâre lying again, arenât you?â she says, voice empty and vast like the cloudy sky above. âYou donât⌠Youâre lying.  Donât touch me.â  And her form vanishes like mist.
G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?If itâs a project I intend to finish, I write things in chronological order. For some reason, if I donât, I end up just writing the parts that I like the best but I donât actually ever make myself connect them and end up abandoning the project.
O: How do you begin a storyâwith the plot, or the characters?Usually, the characters come first. I like creating a narrative to help tell the arc of a character or a group of characters.
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?Already answered!
Z: Major character deathâdo you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you canât tolerate?Hard nope. I hate it. This is my least favorite thing, in both canon and fanon, besides the Bury Your Gays trope and whatever itâs called when women and people of color get killed for shock value. But regardless of who dies, I hate it. Character death is so pointless in 9/10 cases. I can name like⌠one major (permanent) character death off the top of my head that I was okay with, and Iâm not even really okay with it; I just accept that it was actually well written (itâs Maes Hughes). Note: temporary character death is okay. I mean, I watch Dice, Camera, Action, so obviously thatâs fine. Just as long as thereâs a happy ending.
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