angst-fairygodmother

[angst-fairygodmother]

Try Again ~ A Baldur's Gate Fic (Gale/Tav)

A/N: Just a little angsty/ambiguous epilogue fic I've been working on for months. Technically it's specifically for Molvyrae, my Tempest domain cleric of Mystra, but yearning is universal. Word Count: 2773 Rating: M - mild language, some sexual content, angst A/N2: Some of the initial conversation is either directly from the in-game epilogue or modified lines from it, so credit to the Larian writers where it is due. Cross-posted to AO3

After the fall of the Elder Brain, time passed as it always had. Some might call it almost quiet, if you consider a constant labor to rebuild, days split between activity and giving comfort and nights spent falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep quiet. While her party had scattered to the four winds, Molvyrae stayed, doing her part to fix what had been broken. She was given a modest residence in the Lower City, and quickly converted most of the two story building into something of a halfway house for those seeking her medical or spiritual aid and refugees seeking things and people they have lost.

She oversaw far too many funerals in those months, but blessedly, a few weddings too, including Alfira and Lakrissa’s, finally brought on by the realization of how much they had already weathered together. She tried to be there with all her heart for her friends on that day, but regret colored her smile, remembering the adoring and wonderful man that she had given up.

Now it was a half a year later, and the sun had set by the time she strode into the campsite where it had all begun, following the mysterious invitation that had just shown up on the table which served as a humble shrine to her goddess. Her friends were all gathered already, and she was overwhelmed with the emotions overflowing in her heart: love, longing, and trepidation mingling and twisting her stomach as she drew a deep breath.

~

Molvyrae couldn’t help but hug him, before he had finished “reintroducing” himself. Her arms wrapped tightly around the wizard, and she was shocked but pleased to feel him return the gesture, pulling her close and surrounding her in the familiar scent of his soap.

“Well, that was quite lovely,” he said as they both drew away, almost reluctantly. “I’m glad you’re as pleased to see me as I am you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, biting her lip anxiously, and trying not to notice the way his eyes flickered down at the motion. “I know I ended things rather…abruptly.”

“My heart has survived far crueller partings, and lived to tell the tale. I assure you, I meant exactly what I said to you at the time. Perfect as they are, some things aren’t meant to last forever.”

She smiled gratefully at him. “I…thank you Gale, for understanding.”

A shadow flickered across his face, deep sadness clouding his eyes for a moment, before it passed and he gestured for her to sit beside him so that they could catch up. It didn’t take long for them to fall into easy conversation, at some point Tara joining them and twining herself around Gale’s ankles before sitting to groom herself, unbothered by all the world. He told her about his new role as an educator, his aspirations of authorhood, and his students' apparent idolization of her from the stories he told them.

“It sounds like the last six months have been treating you quite well Gale,” she said, resting a hand on his knee for a moment before drawing away quickly, as if burned. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“I’m pleasantly surprised to say that they have, indeed. And for all my complaining, I am very fond of my students. You know, I’d be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I’m sure they’d have plenty of questions for you.”

She stared at him, surprised that he would want to do such a thing, and feeling a tiny bit ambushed by the suddenness of the suggestion. A party, in a place that felt familiar and made it easy to slip back into the old way of things, was one thing. But to spend time with Gale in a place that was entirely his domain, where he would be confident and comfortable and she would be unbalanced by more than regret…it was an intimidating prospect.

Yet, she was hardly surprised when the next words came out of her mouth. “Of course,” she smiled teasingly, “What wizard wouldn’t benefit from the wisdom my goddess has to offer?”

“Excellent, excellent, excellent. I can hardly wait. Of course, you’ll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower–” he offered eagerly, before being cut off by the tressym’s polite ‘ahem.’ “My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.”

She shot a glance at Tara, trying to see if that was in fact what Tara was protesting, or if she was far more practical than Gale regarding their proximity and the way Mol had ended their former relationship. Unfortunately, the feline expression was impossible to read, even before Tara returned to bathing herself. Mol cursed internally, left to her own devices after all and feeling like she was starting to panic.

“And I’ve a pantry full of Waterdhavian delicacies and a delightful bottle of Elverquisst with your name on them, if that sweetens the pot any?” Gale continued, and Mol smiled, hoping he didn’t notice that she had missed some of what he said.

“You don’t have to bribe me with good food, although I won’t say no. The good company is more than enough reason to say yes, if I hadn’t already,” she laughed, and he smiled in that bashful way that made her heart flip.

“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated or doing me a favor…”

“You’ve always been too kind, Gale. I wouldn’t agree out of mere obligation.”

“I truly do look forward to having you. It was strange, going from seeing you daily to six months on my own. I’m very curious to know what you’ve been up to these past months, but I suspect the telling of that tale would keep you tied to me all evening.”

She couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at his phrasing, choosing to focus on the accidental innuendo, over the heartbroken (and heartbreaking) admission. He coughed embarrassedly, catching it as well, before sending her off to mingle with the others, claiming he needed a moment to regather his wits because the wine had quite suddenly gone to his head. Before she went, they hugged again, a little longer this time, promising that they would discuss the details of her visit in the morning. She sighed, her head swimming, guilty that she had accidentally reopened the still healing wound she’d caused and confused by the emotional twists and turns the conversation had taken, and retreated, sitting by the lakeshore with Scratch for a while before returning to the party herself.

~

Molvyrae smiled, listening to Gale as he joyfully showed her around his tower for real this time, basking in the sense of magic and warmth that surrounded her, and the fond memories of the illusory nights spent there.

“Gale,” she eventually said, stopping him with a hand on his arm as he blushed and stumbled over apologies regarding the mess in his sitting area, and the fact that only one chair was even remotely clear of books and papers. A chair she suspected was used by Tara more often than anyone else. “Please. Even if I sat on your carpet, it would be more comfortable than some of our camp accommodations.”

He shuddered, and she wondered if he was remembering the night in the Underdark where every rock had turned out to be covered in a mysterious slime, or in the Shadowlands where far too many inconspicuous logs and tree stumps had spines and thorns lurking in their rough bark.

“I know, but that was a very different situation. Here I’m supposed to be playing host to…my dear friend, and I can’t seem to manage it properly.”

“Because you’re trying too hard. I didn’t come here to be impressed by magical artifacts or a lifetime and a half of magical tomes, or the incredible dinner you cooked for me. Although all of those are incredibly impressive,” she waved a hand and laughed lightly, cutting off the protest she could see coming. “I came because you asked me to. So please, just relax. All I need is you.”

She winced as soon as the words left her lips. She felt his shoulders drop as he sighed, and her heart sank with them. “You said that to me once before…” he spoke suddenly, voice cracking.

“I–” she braced herself for the rebuke she knew she deserved.

“You told me that you loved me for the man I was, the man I am, and that I didn’t need to become a god,” the words were wistful and soft. “But clearly, something changed.”

“Nothing changed.”

He laughed, the sound coming out in a short, bitter bark. “We both know each other too well to lie.”

“You’re right, we do. But it’s not a lie. We’re still us, and everything that entails. It just got…complicated.”

“You have no idea how much I wish that were true,” he reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear tenderly.

“Gale…” his name left her lips in a whisper, as she leaned in.

“Molvyrae,” he answered, in the same hushed, wanting tone, his eyes flicking down to her lips and back up to her face. “I–”

Whatever else he might have planned to say was lost as he threw caution to the wind and kissed her, cradling the side of her face as he did. Her noise of surprise was smothered into his mouth, and she wasted no time in kissing him back, one hand grasping his shoulder to pull him closer as his lips parted before her questing tongue. His free hand gripped gently on the flesh of her waist, fingertips pressing hard enough to be felt but not to cause pain, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her.

All too soon, they parted, both of their chests heaving for air, with no room between them for it to reach their lungs.

Gale stared at her in unabashed awe, and Mol cast her eyes desperately past him, looking for something to focus on, other than the wizard’s lovestruck, kiss-drunk expression. The air hung thick with tension, each waiting for the other to pull away, and then both moving together to do quite the opposite.

Their mouths danced against each other, tongues tangling. She barely noticed the impact as her back collided with a door, reaching behind her to claw for the knob and forcing it open, removing the last barrier between the pair of them and the bed. They stumbled, as one across the blessedly clear room, no longer creating a warpath of desperation for each other.

Gale’s long fingers burned where they ran across her ribcage, one dipping beneath the now open fabric of her shirt to reach the band of her undergarment. He nipped at her lip as she tugged on his hair, teeth scraping as she pulled away. As he fussed with the closure one handedly and the other dragged her hips closer, she trailed her kisses downward to the place where his throat met his collarbone, no longer marred by the mark of the Netherese Orb. His breathy moan made her smirk, trailing her tongue across the sensitive skin, but he was quick to get his revenge, reaching further to cup her ass and hitch her leg around his waist just as the button finally freed from the loop and the fabric hiding her breasts from him went slack.

Somewhere in the hungry stumble, they had turned, and it was the back of Gale’s knees that hit the mattress first, sending them both falling onto the plush cushion. The jolt seemed to wake something in them, and Gale’s hands released Molvyrae, pulling back as if suddenly electrocuted. The harsh motion made her sit up, still straddling his lap, but tugging awkwardly to keep her garments at least partially on.

“Mol…we have to stop,” he said as if it caused him physical pain to do so. “Before this goes any further and gets out of hand…”

The words were like an icy waterfall over her, and she nodded mutely, clambering to get off of him and stand. She turned her back, motions jerking as she refastened button after button. He stayed where he was, unable to resist watching her, and waiting for her to say something.

“I…” she choked back tears, after a long silence. “I should go. I should never have come in the first place.”

“What?” he sat up then, reaching for her and pulling back before he actually made contact.

“This was a mistake. I knew–I should have known. I’m so stupid.”

“No,” the harshness of his voice made her turn in shock. “The blame for this hardly rests on you.”

“Doesn’t it?” she couldn’t help laughing at herself, even as the tears began to fall and she turned away again.

His arms wrapped around her and she felt his face press between her shoulder blades, she tried to ignore the dampness there and the way her body trembled and the urge to press her hands against his where they rested on her sternum. She bowed her head and let herself cry, something she wasn’t sure she’d done since that fateful morning.

“The fault is mine, Molvyrae,” he sighed and she felt it pass through her entire body, before he stepped back, releasing her.

She turned to face him, wiping the tears from her eyes and watching him as he began to pace in small shapes, as he had done sometimes in camp when he was nervous. She reached out for him, but he didn’t take her hand, just continued to fret the edge of his open robe between his fingers.

“I invited you here under partially false pretenses, in the hopes that we could spend some time together again. I don’t know if I expected this, but I thought maybe we would talk about our feelings, about what happened between us, where it went wrong. And we already said we wouldn’t try to lie to each other, so I must admit, even if it was a dim thing, I did hope.”

“Yet you were also the one to put a stop to it?” She frowned in confusion, distracting herself from the itch to embrace him by starting to redo the braids along the side of her head.

“I know,” he shook his head ruefully. “Quite the contradiction, but you see, I realized that a single night of passion, no matter how much I might want and enjoy it, will never be enough.”

“Gale…” his name was a sigh, and he flinched at the sound.

“I’m sorry Molvyrae. I can’t go through the heartbreak of having you for one more night only to lose you again. So, you see, this whole debacle was my doing.”

Silence settled over them, thick with feelings, with the doubts and dreams that lingered.

“I miss you,” she said finally, words barely audible and voice shaking.

“You…do?” He stared at her, and she felt her cheeks and neck growing flushed under the intensity of his gaze.

“Of course I do. You said it best at Withers’ party. We spent everyday together, every night together. For months. And then we walked out of each other’s life…” she shrugged, folding her arms across her chest protectively.

“Why did we?”

“Because I was scared. I had too many questions and not enough answers. So I pushed you away, and you are so Good that you just let me.”

“I wanted to chase you, Mol, but you needed space. I may be a fool in many ways, but I could tell that at least.” The admission was soft, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how even now he was comforting her, after she’d ripped his heart out twice.

Take that, Mystra, she thought somewhat bitterly. Your priestess broke him more than you ever could.

“I know.”

“What if I had? Followed you, I mean.”

“I think I would have kept running, until you gave up.”

“You should know by now that I am not a man easily dissuaded, on the things that really matter.”

“I know.” She smiled ruefully. “So, where does that leave us?”

He was silent for a long moment, and she waited, breath held and unsure.

“I think,” he paused, searching for his words, “we should each get some rest, and speak on this tomorrow, when our emotions are not so fraught. Rash decisions are the ones we regret, after all.” He cradled her cheek in his palm, and pressed their foreheads together. “And I do not want to regret anything when it comes to you. Not again.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

Try Again ~ A Baldur's Gate Fic (Gale/Tav)

A/N: Just a little angsty/ambiguous epilogue fic I've been working on for months. Technically it's specifically for Molvyrae, my Tempest domain cleric of Mystra, but yearning is universal. Word Count: 2773 Rating: M - mild language, some sexual content, angst A/N2: Some of the initial conversation is either directly from the in-game epilogue or modified lines from it, so credit to the Larian writers where it is due. Cross-posted to AO3

After the fall of the Elder Brain, time passed as it always had. Some might call it almost quiet, if you consider a constant labor to rebuild, days split between activity and giving comfort and nights spent falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep quiet. While her party had scattered to the four winds, Molvyrae stayed, doing her part to fix what had been broken. She was given a modest residence in the Lower City, and quickly converted most of the two story building into something of a halfway house for those seeking her medical or spiritual aid and refugees seeking things and people they have lost.

She oversaw far too many funerals in those months, but blessedly, a few weddings too, including Alfira and Lakrissa’s, finally brought on by the realization of how much they had already weathered together. She tried to be there with all her heart for her friends on that day, but regret colored her smile, remembering the adoring and wonderful man that she had given up.

Now it was a half a year later, and the sun had set by the time she strode into the campsite where it had all begun, following the mysterious invitation that had just shown up on the table which served as a humble shrine to her goddess. Her friends were all gathered already, and she was overwhelmed with the emotions overflowing in her heart: love, longing, and trepidation mingling and twisting her stomach as she drew a deep breath.

~

Molvyrae couldn’t help but hug him, before he had finished “reintroducing” himself. Her arms wrapped tightly around the wizard, and she was shocked but pleased to feel him return the gesture, pulling her close and surrounding her in the familiar scent of his soap.

“Well, that was quite lovely,” he said as they both drew away, almost reluctantly. “I’m glad you’re as pleased to see me as I am you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, biting her lip anxiously, and trying not to notice the way his eyes flickered down at the motion. “I know I ended things rather…abruptly.”

“My heart has survived far crueller partings, and lived to tell the tale. I assure you, I meant exactly what I said to you at the time. Perfect as they are, some things aren’t meant to last forever.”

She smiled gratefully at him. “I…thank you Gale, for understanding.”

A shadow flickered across his face, deep sadness clouding his eyes for a moment, before it passed and he gestured for her to sit beside him so that they could catch up. It didn’t take long for them to fall into easy conversation, at some point Tara joining them and twining herself around Gale’s ankles before sitting to groom herself, unbothered by all the world. He told her about his new role as an educator, his aspirations of authorhood, and his students' apparent idolization of her from the stories he told them.

“It sounds like the last six months have been treating you quite well Gale,” she said, resting a hand on his knee for a moment before drawing away quickly, as if burned. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“I’m pleasantly surprised to say that they have, indeed. And for all my complaining, I am very fond of my students. You know, I’d be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I’m sure they’d have plenty of questions for you.”

She stared at him, surprised that he would want to do such a thing, and feeling a tiny bit ambushed by the suddenness of the suggestion. A party, in a place that felt familiar and made it easy to slip back into the old way of things, was one thing. But to spend time with Gale in a place that was entirely his domain, where he would be confident and comfortable and she would be unbalanced by more than regret…it was an intimidating prospect.

Yet, she was hardly surprised when the next words came out of her mouth. “Of course,” she smiled teasingly, “What wizard wouldn’t benefit from the wisdom my goddess has to offer?”

“Excellent, excellent, excellent. I can hardly wait. Of course, you’ll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower–” he offered eagerly, before being cut off by the tressym’s polite ‘ahem.’ “My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.”

She shot a glance at Tara, trying to see if that was in fact what Tara was protesting, or if she was far more practical than Gale regarding their proximity and the way Mol had ended their former relationship. Unfortunately, the feline expression was impossible to read, even before Tara returned to bathing herself. Mol cursed internally, left to her own devices after all and feeling like she was starting to panic.

“And I’ve a pantry full of Waterdhavian delicacies and a delightful bottle of Elverquisst with your name on them, if that sweetens the pot any?” Gale continued, and Mol smiled, hoping he didn’t notice that she had missed some of what he said.

“You don’t have to bribe me with good food, although I won’t say no. The good company is more than enough reason to say yes, if I hadn’t already,” she laughed, and he smiled in that bashful way that made her heart flip.

“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated or doing me a favor…”

“You’ve always been too kind, Gale. I wouldn’t agree out of mere obligation.”

“I truly do look forward to having you. It was strange, going from seeing you daily to six months on my own. I’m very curious to know what you’ve been up to these past months, but I suspect the telling of that tale would keep you tied to me all evening.”

She couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at his phrasing, choosing to focus on the accidental innuendo, over the heartbroken (and heartbreaking) admission. He coughed embarrassedly, catching it as well, before sending her off to mingle with the others, claiming he needed a moment to regather his wits because the wine had quite suddenly gone to his head. Before she went, they hugged again, a little longer this time, promising that they would discuss the details of her visit in the morning. She sighed, her head swimming, guilty that she had accidentally reopened the still healing wound she’d caused and confused by the emotional twists and turns the conversation had taken, and retreated, sitting by the lakeshore with Scratch for a while before returning to the party herself.

~

Molvyrae smiled, listening to Gale as he joyfully showed her around his tower for real this time, basking in the sense of magic and warmth that surrounded her, and the fond memories of the illusory nights spent there.

“Gale,” she eventually said, stopping him with a hand on his arm as he blushed and stumbled over apologies regarding the mess in his sitting area, and the fact that only one chair was even remotely clear of books and papers. A chair she suspected was used by Tara more often than anyone else. “Please. Even if I sat on your carpet, it would be more comfortable than some of our camp accommodations.”

He shuddered, and she wondered if he was remembering the night in the Underdark where every rock had turned out to be covered in a mysterious slime, or in the Shadowlands where far too many inconspicuous logs and tree stumps had spines and thorns lurking in their rough bark.

“I know, but that was a very different situation. Here I’m supposed to be playing host to…my dear friend, and I can’t seem to manage it properly.”

“Because you’re trying too hard. I didn’t come here to be impressed by magical artifacts or a lifetime and a half of magical tomes, or the incredible dinner you cooked for me. Although all of those are incredibly impressive,” she waved a hand and laughed lightly, cutting off the protest she could see coming. “I came because you asked me to. So please, just relax. All I need is you.”

She winced as soon as the words left her lips. She felt his shoulders drop as he sighed, and her heart sank with them. “You said that to me once before…” he spoke suddenly, voice cracking.

“I–” she braced herself for the rebuke she knew she deserved.

“You told me that you loved me for the man I was, the man I am, and that I didn’t need to become a god,” the words were wistful and soft. “But clearly, something changed.”

“Nothing changed.”

He laughed, the sound coming out in a short, bitter bark. “We both know each other too well to lie.”

“You’re right, we do. But it’s not a lie. We’re still us, and everything that entails. It just got…complicated.”

“You have no idea how much I wish that were true,” he reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear tenderly.

“Gale…” his name left her lips in a whisper, as she leaned in.

“Molvyrae,” he answered, in the same hushed, wanting tone, his eyes flicking down to her lips and back up to her face. “I–”

Whatever else he might have planned to say was lost as he threw caution to the wind and kissed her, cradling the side of her face as he did. Her noise of surprise was smothered into his mouth, and she wasted no time in kissing him back, one hand grasping his shoulder to pull him closer as his lips parted before her questing tongue. His free hand gripped gently on the flesh of her waist, fingertips pressing hard enough to be felt but not to cause pain, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her.

All too soon, they parted, both of their chests heaving for air, with no room between them for it to reach their lungs.

Gale stared at her in unabashed awe, and Mol cast her eyes desperately past him, looking for something to focus on, other than the wizard’s lovestruck, kiss-drunk expression. The air hung thick with tension, each waiting for the other to pull away, and then both moving together to do quite the opposite.

Their mouths danced against each other, tongues tangling. She barely noticed the impact as her back collided with a door, reaching behind her to claw for the knob and forcing it open, removing the last barrier between the pair of them and the bed. They stumbled, as one across the blessedly clear room, no longer creating a warpath of desperation for each other.

Gale’s long fingers burned where they ran across her ribcage, one dipping beneath the now open fabric of her shirt to reach the band of her undergarment. He nipped at her lip as she tugged on his hair, teeth scraping as she pulled away. As he fussed with the closure one handedly and the other dragged her hips closer, she trailed her kisses downward to the place where his throat met his collarbone, no longer marred by the mark of the Netherese Orb. His breathy moan made her smirk, trailing her tongue across the sensitive skin, but he was quick to get his revenge, reaching further to cup her ass and hitch her leg around his waist just as the button finally freed from the loop and the fabric hiding her breasts from him went slack.

Somewhere in the hungry stumble, they had turned, and it was the back of Gale’s knees that hit the mattress first, sending them both falling onto the plush cushion. The jolt seemed to wake something in them, and Gale’s hands released Molvyrae, pulling back as if suddenly electrocuted. The harsh motion made her sit up, still straddling his lap, but tugging awkwardly to keep her garments at least partially on.

“Mol…we have to stop,” he said as if it caused him physical pain to do so. “Before this goes any further and gets out of hand…”

The words were like an icy waterfall over her, and she nodded mutely, clambering to get off of him and stand. She turned her back, motions jerking as she refastened button after button. He stayed where he was, unable to resist watching her, and waiting for her to say something.

“I…” she choked back tears, after a long silence. “I should go. I should never have come in the first place.”

“What?” he sat up then, reaching for her and pulling back before he actually made contact.

“This was a mistake. I knew–I should have known. I’m so stupid.”

“No,” the harshness of his voice made her turn in shock. “The blame for this hardly rests on you.”

“Doesn’t it?” she couldn’t help laughing at herself, even as the tears began to fall and she turned away again.

His arms wrapped around her and she felt his face press between her shoulder blades, she tried to ignore the dampness there and the way her body trembled and the urge to press her hands against his where they rested on her sternum. She bowed her head and let herself cry, something she wasn’t sure she’d done since that fateful morning.

“The fault is mine, Molvyrae,” he sighed and she felt it pass through her entire body, before he stepped back, releasing her.

She turned to face him, wiping the tears from her eyes and watching him as he began to pace in small shapes, as he had done sometimes in camp when he was nervous. She reached out for him, but he didn’t take her hand, just continued to fret the edge of his open robe between his fingers.

“I invited you here under partially false pretenses, in the hopes that we could spend some time together again. I don’t know if I expected this, but I thought maybe we would talk about our feelings, about what happened between us, where it went wrong. And we already said we wouldn’t try to lie to each other, so I must admit, even if it was a dim thing, I did hope.”

“Yet you were also the one to put a stop to it?” She frowned in confusion, distracting herself from the itch to embrace him by starting to redo the braids along the side of her head.

“I know,” he shook his head ruefully. “Quite the contradiction, but you see, I realized that a single night of passion, no matter how much I might want and enjoy it, will never be enough.”

“Gale…” his name was a sigh, and he flinched at the sound.

“I’m sorry Molvyrae. I can’t go through the heartbreak of having you for one more night only to lose you again. So, you see, this whole debacle was my doing.”

Silence settled over them, thick with feelings, with the doubts and dreams that lingered.

“I miss you,” she said finally, words barely audible and voice shaking.

“You…do?” He stared at her, and she felt her cheeks and neck growing flushed under the intensity of his gaze.

“Of course I do. You said it best at Withers’ party. We spent everyday together, every night together. For months. And then we walked out of each other’s life…” she shrugged, folding her arms across her chest protectively.

“Why did we?”

“Because I was scared. I had too many questions and not enough answers. So I pushed you away, and you are so Good that you just let me.”

“I wanted to chase you, Mol, but you needed space. I may be a fool in many ways, but I could tell that at least.” The admission was soft, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how even now he was comforting her, after she’d ripped his heart out twice.

Take that, Mystra, she thought somewhat bitterly. Your priestess broke him more than you ever could.

“I know.”

“What if I had? Followed you, I mean.”

“I think I would have kept running, until you gave up.”

“You should know by now that I am not a man easily dissuaded, on the things that really matter.”

“I know.” She smiled ruefully. “So, where does that leave us?”

He was silent for a long moment, and she waited, breath held and unsure.

“I think,” he paused, searching for his words, “we should each get some rest, and speak on this tomorrow, when our emotions are not so fraught. Rash decisions are the ones we regret, after all.” He cradled her cheek in his palm, and pressed their foreheads together. “And I do not want to regret anything when it comes to you. Not again.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

OMG I loooove your Barba and Carisi oneshots. Can you write one forStabler? Maybe where she's a younger detective and he's conflicted because they have a mentor/mentee thing going and she's closer to his kids age than his?

I appreciate your enthusiasm and your compliments, and I am very glad you love what I've written for Law and Order. However, I have 2 issues with this request.

I am not currently accepting requests, which is noted right at the top of my blog.

This is a very specific request that does not give me much room to be creative. It sounds like you already have the idea of what the story you want is, and would be disappointed if it comes out differently, so perhaps you should write it yourself?

As another note, that you couldn't have known because my disdain is primarily on my main blog, but Elliot Stabler is one of my Fight On Sight characters (like a comfort character but the opposite) so I would not be able to write a happy story for him...

[angst-fairygodmother]

This current season of OG Law and Order is the first I've watched consistently (previous seasons were a couple of episodes here and there because it didn't ensare my attention enough to watch week by week and for some reason the seasons get pulled from streaming so I can't catch up if I wanted to, but anyway). So with that in mind, please correct me if I'm wrong.

But I feel like with a few tweaks and adjustments, Nolan's storylines could easily just be Peter Stone, if they had done his transition from Chicago well (you know, not as an antagonist) and not smashed his character to bits and glued him back together with trauma? And I'm really tempted to run with that because I like both characters a lot, but I think they're too similar to write for both, and I still have Big Feelings about Peter's character assassination and mismanagement (clearly).

[angst-fairygodmother]

Me, in a fit of insomnia-fueled inspiration, starts writing Veilguard-era angst where the Inquisitor gets blighted:

"This will be some great hurt/comfort angst for Thom and Thirrin, and then magically we'll cure it because I want them to be happy ultimately."

Three paragraphs in..."Oh. Oh. This is Solas/Lavellan angst. Well fuck me, this is going to be fun."

[angst-fairygodmother]

Writing Game!

Send me a character or pair and a number and I'll write them a 500 word or less ficlet based on that song from my Spotify Wrapped this year.

[angst-fairygodmother]

hi boo!!!! for your spotify game, how about diego andddddd 20??

btw i miss u <3

Bon! I miss you too! 💙 Sorry I haven't been around too much. Life is weird.

Anyway. I am kissing you on the mouth for this one (platonically) because it was PERFECT.

A/N: This is over 500 words, but it just sort of spilled out. I definitely could have written a lot things for this (including some Diego/Lila fixing but meh). And it doesn't even totally ignore S4, just the bullshit ending. Word Count: 747 (wrote it out of me at the speed of one too) Rating: T - pretty tame other than some language Spotify Wrapped Short Fics

Diego Hargreeves was a difficult man to understand, even for himself some day. Some might even say impossible. Maybe part of it came from the number of timelines he had lived, or not lived, through. Timelines where you were dead, or he was dead - had never been born? - or you were alive but living a life totally unknown to him, and he had another wife, who wasn’t unlike you in a lot of ways but wasn’t the same, and they had a whole three kids, picket fence life until she got bored and lost and cheated on him with his older-younger-twin? brother. 

But maybe that wasn’t it at all. You couldn’t put your finger on the reasons, and you weren’t sure they mattered at all. Maybe all that mattered was that in this timeline, they had died and then not died, and the children had been erased, and everything was forgotten - even now all those things you’d both seen and done were distant and foggy like a dream - but then you all found each other again. And she chose him, not his brother, and he chose you. And now you were sitting in a café with your perfectly ordinary friends and family around, listening to him give a speech with no sign of a stutter in sight about you, for your perfectly ordinary birthday (which was a perfectly ordinary birth, and you just happened to share it with your perfectly ordinary boyfriend and several perfectly ordinary friends that were a found second family now). 

Friends and family that were staring at you, expectantly. Shit. Had he asked a question?

“I…don’t know?” you asked, immediately regretting it as his face fell and your heart plummeted to the floor. That was definitely not the answer he was expecting, and the room was still dead silent and watching. 

“Fuck. Sorry. I mean…I…to be honest sweetheart, I wasn’t listening. I mean I was, but I zoned out a little bit. I just couldn’t help it. I was listening to you and you were being so sweet and adoring and I started asking ‘why?’ and then my mind was off: why do you love me, of all seven billion or whatever people in the world? The same way I can’t help thinking while we’re watching a movie, ‘why does my windowbox always sprout fucking marigolds no matter what I do?’ or ‘why do people like dogs that can’t breathe because their faces are so smushed?’ or ‘why does the sun rise and set, and why in the directions that it does?’ Why would you love me? I’m an asshole, exhibit A. And at the same time I was asking why you love me, I was asking why do I love you?”

His eyebrows were furrowed in that cute little way they did when he got contemplatively angry, and everyone was still staring and you could feel your neck heating to an inferno. So you plowed onward. 

“I mean why does anyone love anyone? But then I started thinking that it doesn’t matter. None of those questions need answers, for the world to go on and them to keep being true. I’m sure Five will have some boring, unromantic bullshit lecture prepared about chemicals and hormones, and also tell me how there are answers to all the science-y ones I asked, but I don’t want there to be, so he had better keep his damn mouth shut,” you shot a glare at the man in the corner who was definitely about to interrupt before looking back at Diego with your full attention.

“I love you. More than I can possibly express. There’s not a how, or a why, or limit, or a reason. It’s just…it’s fact. Incontrovertible, foundation of the universe, fact. So you have every right to be angry, and I am happy for you to be angry, and it won’t change anything. But I don’t have an answer for you, except I don’t know. And I love you.” 

He was shaking his head fondly, and walking toward you, and goddamnit the whole room was still staring but it didn’t matter because it was just you and him when he kissed you softly. 

“I’m going to take that trainwreck as a yes,” he teased, pulling back to press his forehead to yours and slip a delicate silver ring shaped like braided rope and brambles onto your finger.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh, now I get why that was a bad answer. Definitely yes.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

63 with Nolan Price?

Darling Nonny, I appreciate your request, but I am going to have to ask you to pick a different number. 63 is a joke song that ended up being way catchier than it had any right to be. And fueled my packing rage when I was moving over the summer for some reason.

I...can't write a fic with this:

Spotify Wrapped Short Fics

[angst-fairygodmother]

hi boo!!!! for your spotify game, how about diego andddddd 20??

btw i miss u <3

Bon! I miss you too! 💙 Sorry I haven't been around too much. Life is weird.

Anyway. I am kissing you on the mouth for this one (platonically) because it was PERFECT.

A/N: This is over 500 words, but it just sort of spilled out. I definitely could have written a lot things for this (including some Diego/Lila fixing but meh). And it doesn't even totally ignore S4, just the bullshit ending. Word Count: 747 (wrote it out of me at the speed of one too) Rating: T - pretty tame other than some language Spotify Wrapped Short Fics

Diego Hargreeves was a difficult man to understand, even for himself some day. Some might even say impossible. Maybe part of it came from the number of timelines he had lived, or not lived, through. Timelines where you were dead, or he was dead - had never been born? - or you were alive but living a life totally unknown to him, and he had another wife, who wasn’t unlike you in a lot of ways but wasn’t the same, and they had a whole three kids, picket fence life until she got bored and lost and cheated on him with his older-younger-twin? brother. 

But maybe that wasn’t it at all. You couldn’t put your finger on the reasons, and you weren’t sure they mattered at all. Maybe all that mattered was that in this timeline, they had died and then not died, and the children had been erased, and everything was forgotten - even now all those things you’d both seen and done were distant and foggy like a dream - but then you all found each other again. And she chose him, not his brother, and he chose you. And now you were sitting in a café with your perfectly ordinary friends and family around, listening to him give a speech with no sign of a stutter in sight about you, for your perfectly ordinary birthday (which was a perfectly ordinary birth, and you just happened to share it with your perfectly ordinary boyfriend and several perfectly ordinary friends that were a found second family now). 

Friends and family that were staring at you, expectantly. Shit. Had he asked a question?

“I…don’t know?” you asked, immediately regretting it as his face fell and your heart plummeted to the floor. That was definitely not the answer he was expecting, and the room was still dead silent and watching. 

“Fuck. Sorry. I mean…I…to be honest sweetheart, I wasn’t listening. I mean I was, but I zoned out a little bit. I just couldn’t help it. I was listening to you and you were being so sweet and adoring and I started asking ‘why?’ and then my mind was off: why do you love me, of all seven billion or whatever people in the world? The same way I can’t help thinking while we’re watching a movie, ‘why does my windowbox always sprout fucking marigolds no matter what I do?’ or ‘why do people like dogs that can’t breathe because their faces are so smushed?’ or ‘why does the sun rise and set, and why in the directions that it does?’ Why would you love me? I’m an asshole, exhibit A. And at the same time I was asking why you love me, I was asking why do I love you?”

His eyebrows were furrowed in that cute little way they did when he got contemplatively angry, and everyone was still staring and you could feel your neck heating to an inferno. So you plowed onward. 

“I mean why does anyone love anyone? But then I started thinking that it doesn’t matter. None of those questions need answers, for the world to go on and them to keep being true. I’m sure Five will have some boring, unromantic bullshit lecture prepared about chemicals and hormones, and also tell me how there are answers to all the science-y ones I asked, but I don’t want there to be, so he had better keep his damn mouth shut,” you shot a glare at the man in the corner who was definitely about to interrupt before looking back at Diego with your full attention.

“I love you. More than I can possibly express. There’s not a how, or a why, or limit, or a reason. It’s just…it’s fact. Incontrovertible, foundation of the universe, fact. So you have every right to be angry, and I am happy for you to be angry, and it won’t change anything. But I don’t have an answer for you, except I don’t know. And I love you.” 

He was shaking his head fondly, and walking toward you, and goddamnit the whole room was still staring but it didn’t matter because it was just you and him when he kissed you softly. 

“I’m going to take that trainwreck as a yes,” he teased, pulling back to press his forehead to yours and slip a delicate silver ring shaped like braided rope and brambles onto your finger.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh, now I get why that was a bad answer. Definitely yes.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

Taking Requests this year for:

-Law and Order OG or SVU

-Haven

-The Librarians

-Derek/Ryne (optionally with Chickens)

-Diego Hargreeves or Luther Hargreeves

Writing Game!

Send me a character or pair and a number and I'll write them a 500 word or less ficlet based on that song from my Spotify Wrapped this year.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Writing Advice:

1. Write what's in your heart

2. Wait, hold up

3. THIS is what's in your heart?

4. Dear god

5. Your poor characters.

6. Why is there so much blood and death?

[angst-fairygodmother]

Pleeeeeease write a good version of Fivla.

I'm still not taking requests, and even if I was that is a hard notp, and also technically against my previously set rules (although Aiden is no longer under 18 so I guess not).

Also there is no good version.

And I'm guessing this is the same person that literally just called me a hater on my personal blog, so why would you even want me to?

[angst-fairygodmother]

Puuuuuleeeeease tell me you have something planned for after that disaster.??????????????????????????

Hello dear,

I do plan on writing something in response to that shitshow. I don't know yet if it will be fix-it, or AU, or just plain ignoring it, etc. but I will write something.

I just need some time to work out my feelings, and deal with some real world stuff (work is the worst, always in the way of doing fun things) first.

In the meantime, please spread this love to my fellow writers. I'm sure all of us are itching to undo what Steve Blackman did.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hello friends,

I have not watched season 4 of The Umbrella Academy.

I will not be able to do so until this weekend.

Please do not message me requests, especially not with spoilers in them, until at least then. (Also my requests are technically closed at the moment, so please don't message me any until I decide if I'm going to reopen them for this.)

Thanks!

EDIT: I have now watched the season. I am still not ready for requests. But I will probably write...something, at some point.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Why is writing a children's story so hard?

[angst-fairygodmother]

MOOD!