#writing heartbreaking scenes

[actual-changeling]

Aziraphale sees Crowley standing next to his their car and he hesitates; this is his last chance, the last possible moment to change his mind about leaving.

Do you think he feels the sunshine on his hands, against his stomach, and remembers how warm Crowley had been in his arms? How warm he had felt beneath his palms even through several layers of fabric?

How for the first time in his existence his body had felt complete, like there was no longer something— someone missing?

Do you think he sees him standing in the sun, all shining fire-red and hidden golden eyes, and regrets not sliding his hand to the back of his neck, up into his hair? Do you think he regrets not taking the chance to feel it silken soft and familiar between his fingers?

Do you think he remembers all the times they enjoyed a warm, sunny day together and the way the star seems to remember that Crowley had put its siblings into the sky? Do you think he remembers rays of sunlight caressing his cheekbones and wishes it had been his fingertips instead?

'Anything you need?' the Metatron asks him, and he is still looking at Crowley with the sun on his skin.

I need you, he thinks, and even though his eyes are hidden away, he knows Crowley is looking at him.

Do you think Aziraphale remembers the kiss, remembers the love he could taste on his tongue, the six millennia of do that, please, kiss me, the slow, painful minute of do that again, please, right now?

(The realization that he won't.)

He almost stays. Almost. But the Metatron is already walking away, and he looks at Crowley again, looks past sunset conversations and sunrise breakfasts and the heart-shaped star in Crowley's chest, and feels his pain.

(Their pain.)

Do you think that's why he leaves anyway? Not just because heaven needs fixing but because all that pain, all the hurt they caused each other, can't have been for nothing?

I can't leave him— no, I don't want to leave him.

No.

No, I want to go back to him.

Do you think he takes his anger and holds onto it until it burns his palm because it is easier to be angry at Crowley, at himself, than to think about everything they just took from each other? Everything they just lost?

Everything they could have been?

Aziraphale takes the memory of sunshine on his skin (Crowley's lips on his) and locks it away in a golden cage made out of faith; faith that Crowley will be there when he comes back.

Once he does (because he will, he will, he has to), there will be sunshine and warmth and Crowley, and they will finally be able to love each other with the sun and the whole universe as their witness.

No more shadows or shades of grey. Just the two of them in the light where they belong.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens kiss #aziraphale meta #fuck the metatron #idk what to call this flavour of post #character analysis and ficlet in one with some heartbreaking screenshots #see this is what happens when i watch the kiss scene frame by frame

[lizandreil]

one of the most devastating lines i’ve ever read is “who said please that made you hate the word so much” “i did”” like the way it physically hurt

and the follow-up “i was seven. i believed him” ???? literally punched the air out of my lungs

#all for the game #aftg series #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #aftg andrew #neil x andrew #aftg neil #if i were neil id destroy something #imagine being neil and hearing THAT #andrew is my precious bug and i will bite people for him #say what you want about nora’s writing but this scene is one of the best most painful heartbreaking scenes ever written

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “I love you being met with a response which makes you regret letting those three words slip out of your mouth” prompts 

“…I’m sorry.” 

“You know, maybe this is all in your imagination?”

“I think you’re getting it really wrong here.” 

“That’s… Cool. Um, look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

“You don’t love me. Stop lying to yourself.” 

“Your jokes are really starting to take a nose-dive.”

“…Did I give you the wrong impression?” 

“You don’t even know me that well so how can you love me?”

“See, that’s where I know you’re lying, because I’m incapable of being loved.”

“You’re actually delusional, aren’t you?” 

“No, you don’t. Please tell me you don’t.”

“So… Is there a punchline to this?” 

“Funny joke you have there. Wait. It’s not a joke?”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that, right after I’ve just moved on from you. How fucking— wow.” 

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

#i was watching sex education season 3 edits and came across the heartbreaking scene of ruby telling otis those three words #and OTIS COMPLETELY FUMBLING IT FUCKKKK #so yeah this is inspired by that #angst prompts #dialogue prompts #prompts #writing prompts #otp prompts

[echosilverwolf]

Please. I need to hear the end of that thought! 😭

#this is the scene that broke me #i expected the kiss to be angsty #i didnt expect him to tearfully lay his heart out there like that #it was so beautifully done #david deserves an award for how raw and real that came off #neil deserves one for writing THE most heartbreaking scene I've ever seen #right in the honeynut feeliOs #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #crowley #Aziraphale #Neil Gaiman #good omens 2

[tendertenebrosity]

Prev.

It was night when Raidan came to visit me, but I was awake. I hurt too much, was too filled to bursting point with misery and resentment and fear, to have slept.

It was stupid of me to be lying there, feeling each one of my lashes, shamed down to my very bones, and fretting that the royal family was defenceless. They had the entire rest of the guard! Why did I feel like there was something I could do that everybody else couldn’t?

You know someone’s out there. Some THING. And nobody else does.

My Prince exchanged a few words with the healer’s assistant at the door; then he came in, taking off a long cloak and laying it on the edge of the bed, as I craned and tried fruitlessly to see him.

“Stop it,” he scolded. “You’re hurting yourself.”

There was a chair; he dragged it around to beside the bed, where I could see it where I lay on front with my face turned to the side.

I propped myself up on my elbow, trying to wipe the pain off my face for him. “Rai!"

For a moment I just held myself there and looked at him. He came. He came to see me. I knew he would! For a moment, despite it all, I was happy. Even now, in the middle of the night, with darkness under his eyes from not sleeping and his hair still in its style from the day - he was lovely enough to make my heart turn over. I ached to brush my thumb over those hollows, kiss the crease away from between his eyes.

“The healer-priest says you’ll scar but it shouldn’t impair your movement,” he said, after looking at me for a long time. His gaze flickered away from my face.

I didn’t know how long they’d let me languish here before they made me leave the palace. I wasn’t a guardsman anymore. I had no right to its medical care, technically. Guess I should be grateful they hadn’t thrown me into the street as soon as the formalities were all done.

“I won’t be allowed a sword again,” I said. “Not in palace grounds.”

His gaze dropped to his lap. “No. But you’ll need to move for… other things. I assume.”

“Who’s come with you?” I found myself asking. In my mind, sticky black shadows rose up out of the flagstones to grasp at him, and I couldn’t disguise the fear in my voice. “You didn’t walk through the palace alone, did you? Your apartment is ages away! At this time of night! You should have guards with you. You should - ”

“I have to answer to you even less than I previously did,” he said, sharply. “You’re not still jumping at shadows? Fuck’s sake, Keldin!”

“I’m scared for you,” I said desperately. “They were there, Rai, I - ”

“Enough,” he said, enunciating the words clearly, the warning note of command I’d rarely heard. “Besides, you shouldn’t want others to see this, any more than I do!”

Abruptly, I realised the cloak he’d come in was his winter one, with the deep hood. The one nobody could see his face in.

He didn’t want anybody to know he was here visiting me.

My heart twisted. Had I truly almost forgotten that pain? Just because he came, and sat, and looked at me for a moment? “You wouldn’t admit to me in court,” I said. “When Tell asked the Queen if she knew, and you said - ”

His mouth pressed flat. “Oh yes, everybody likes announcing their dalliances to their mother in front of -”

“Dallian - ”

“Seriously, are you going to..!”

“You’re ashamed,” I said, pushing myself more upright even though it hurt. Hurt in horrible throbbing waves from the base of my skull down to my hips. “Ashamed of me - a common guardsman, how low - ”

“You killed four people, Keldin!”

He was standing, suddenly pushing the chair out of the way and looking down at me with his face all creased and taut. Like he could hardly bear the sight of me. The thought that he would look at me like that hurt more than my back, more than the pull of stitches in my leg and my cheek.

“You seriously can’t imagine why I might be reluctant to have it known how close we were?” he demanded, furious. “This is a relations nightmare as it is. Not that I expect you to understand that kind of thing!”

I could feel wetness trickling down my shoulder; I’d pulled something open. I ignored it.

“For you,” I said, lost. “I killed - I didn’t - They would have killed you. They said it. You’d rather believe that I did that on purpose, for no reason, than that I - ”

He put his hands up to his face, groaned and turned away. “Fuck, what am I doing here,” he mumbled behind them. “I don’t think you did it on purpose. I think - I don’t know what I think. You were wrong, Kel. Just wrong. You can’t sit there and tell me you did it for me and expect that to make it - do you know how that feels? That kid was thirteen! Gods, I feel sick. Fuck.”

“He wasn’t human anymore. Why won’t you believe me?” I could feel tears building behind my eyes; no. No. “You won’t even consider - Rai, please - ”

“I did consider,” he snapped. “We closed the whole street, searched the inn top to bottom on your say-so! Captain Cora even had those people’s houses searched, because I asked, and that didn’t endear us to anybody either! I went out on a limb because I thought you had to have a reason, and there was nothing there.”

“I don’t know why,” I whispered. “I don’t know why there was nothing. But I saw… I saw…”

My back hurt too much; I had to let myself fall forward again. Tears pooled on the pillow underneath my cheek when I let it rest there for a moment. The stripes on my back throbbed and burned; I'd disturbed at least two to bleeding, probably more. How was it possible for skin to hurt this much?

The silence had gone on a long time. Rai let out his breath in a huge sigh, and dropped back to sit on the chair.

“Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you,” he said. “I just came to tell you goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” I echoed, lifting my head.

“I thought - no matter how it’s ended, you were… you deserve that much from me,” he said, in this sad, gentle way that made my hand ball into a fist underneath the sheet. “You were exactly what I needed, for a while. In a difficult time of my life. And I’m grateful for that much. I hope you - I hope you get the help you need out there. Whatever it is that’s caused you to do this. Really.”

“I - ” I closed my eyes. Each sentence out of his mouth was like a wave knocking me further off balance, one after another. I made a huge effort to pull myself away from it - hadn’t there been something I wanted to say, too? A goodbye? “Raidan. Could you look - there should be something in the drawer, there, the - the bedside table - ”

He gave me a long-suffering look that was almost my old prince back again. After a moment, he leaned forward and fished around out of my sight. He came up holding my charm, dangling from its broken cord. It spun in the air as he held it up.

“I want you to take that,” I said, wincing and hissing in pain as I propped myself back up again to face him. “Please.”

I hadn’t forgotten, the way the assassin had tried to cut it off me during the fight; or the way things had squirmed and shone in my vision when I’d been holding it yesterday, before the whipping. I should have told him all of that - I would have done, a week ago. I would have told him anything, everything - every thought that passed through my head, if he’d have borne it. He owned everything I had, in my head and my heart.

The fact that I couldn’t do that now stuck in my throat and hurt, hurt, hurt.

But he wouldn’t have believed me.

“This is your lucky stone,” he said, cupping it in his hand. Did his face soften, looking at it on his palm? Or was it my imagination? “Kel, you wear this every day. I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can,” I insisted. “I want you to. Just humour me. Put it in your pocket or around your neck under your clothes. If I’m - I’m not going to be here to take care of you. I want to know you have it.”

He shook his head, wrapping the cord in neat loops around his fingers. “Kel… no.”

“Please?” I said, desperately. When I’d hit upon this idea, I’d still thought - I’d pictured a version of this conversation where I could tell him I suspected the charm had saved my life. What a joke! Fuck, I was just as stupid as Tell had said during the trial. “Please take it. It’s my goodbye. I want you to wear it. Would you do that for me?”

He put the charm on the bed beside me, the cords springing out of their folds. I tried to pick it up with the hand and arm I was holding myself up with, and almost slid forward onto my face. I held it out to him, fingers clumsy.

“Stop it, Kel, I’m not going to - ”

“If you ever loved me at all,” I said, my voice shaking, “Take it. Please.”

And I watched his face still. And harden.

He stood, ignoring my hand.

“You presume a lot, Keldin,” he said, coldly. “Too much. I don’t know why you think I’d have any use for your superstitious love-token.”

“Wait - ”

He was already moving, picking up his hooded cloak from where he’d thrown it, wrapping it around his shoulders.

“Please, Rai - don't go - ”

“I meant what I said,” he said, mouth tight and angry. “You’ve always been devoted. Thank you, goodbye, and take my sincerest good wishes for wherever life takes you next.”

“Wait! Rai!” The charm slid forgotten out of my fingers as I tried to sit up, push my legs out of bed - my voice was climbing, high and distressed, and I couldn’t make my stupid body cooperate. “Rai, I love you!”

The cloak hid his face; he yanked it angrily into place. “Goodbye, Keldin.”

And then he was gone.

#post-whipping scene #whump writing #fantasy whump #emotional whump #it's fine Raidan just pour some metaphorical salt on Keldin #heartbreak #royalty/commoner romance #the fucky kind #Keldin #Prince Raidan

[suitetarts]

reasons to be honest

Astarion x Original Female Character, Dark Urge Tav (Good) Angst, Comfort, Kissing, Fluff (Link to AO3) After Astarion’s confession, Delilah is conflicted but still very in love–which she hasn’t quite admitted to yet. Unfortunately for sober her, she is a sad drunk on a mission after the celebrations in Moonrise Tower. Angst-fueled barbs and comforting words ensue.

Another one shot with my Tav, Delilah. This one happens to make no reference to her features or gender, just that she's a drow with mommy issues. You can go to the AO3 series for the other fic I have for her, or click here.

“Another… please.”

The red tiefling boy hesitates as Delilah’s head rolls awkwardly to the side, the previous shots of liquor clearly hitting her hard. Her piercing red eyes dart to his unmoving hands and then meet his own in a cold glare. With a squeal, he grabs a new liquor bottle from Ketheric’s stores and begins to pour once more.

Another child, a bluish tiefling with tight curls, collecting bottles from the small goblin hovels hidden throughout the first floor of Moonrise, comes marching over to chastise. “Drow Lady, oi! That’s enough!”

“Mmm? I saved your sorry little hides ‘nd you’re cutting me off?” Delilah exhales out of her nose indignantly, easily swiping the nearly full bottle from the boy’s hands.

“Oi oi oi! But that’s s’posed to be mine to sell on the road,” the blue tiefling cries.

The darkness within her, the other parasite on her psyche that pulls her to violence, begs her to reverse her grip on the bottle and crack it open, spilling red across the floor in a viscous new style of carpet. Delilah lets out a puff of air and pushes the thought away with a spot of effort. As she walks away with a stagger, she raises her free hand to wave the children good night.

The various hallways and great meeting spaces that were host to a battle between her companions and the Absolute cultists only a few hours ago is now just a bloody path of stones, one that she hopes will lead her to her bedroll. These cursed lands had truly been a nightmare in every sense of the word. Delilah is hopeful that being one step closer to their goals will allow her some peace and rest. However, she knows that defeating Myrkul’s Chosen can’t possibly help the matters of the heart that tear her from a good night’s sleep.

As the liquid inside the bottle hits her lips, she winces. Blood red and horrendously strong like it was distilled from pure malice. Whoever had decided to keep this in their stores either had something powerfully flavorful to mix it with or hated themselves. Delilah ponders if there is anything in this tower that would be sweet enough to cover the taste, blushes, and takes a decidedly large and bitter sip.

She curses under her breath as she finds herself walking the ramparts of Moonrise, her mind wandering back to Astarion despite the severity of all their other issues surrounding the tadpoles. Delilah continued to mull over their talk the other night and had been unintentionally distant, even though she knew that there was still so much more to say. The discussion replays in her mind once more. Astarion had, at least initially, lied about it all. He had manipulated her so comprehensively, body and soul. He told her such sweet things, some that she recognized as flirtatious tricks, but others that she had come to actually believe. He laid with her nearly every night not because he wanted to, but to control her. The bastard had admitted to her face that the only part of his plan that failed is, essentially, he harbored guilt about doing it after catching feelings.

And even after hurting her so profoundly, Delilah had reassured him. The typical shrill tone with which he joked or complained or flirted during their adventures was absent, replaced with a lower, more melancholy genuineness that she couldn’t help but comfort. She said that she deeply cared for him, that she would stay by his side as he created boundaries for himself. The two had a productive yet brief discussion and she never lied, not a single sweet word or supportive touch. 

All despite her heart cracking down the middle, threatening to shatter. 

Delilah staggers, reaching to the cold stony walls of the tower for support. Her fingers grip the edge of one of the stones and she could imagine it was Astarion’s collarbones. Her nails dig into the sandy mortar for a moment as her temper flares, before guilt and sympathy eases the tension in her joints. She feels justified in her frustration, but he doesn’t deserve her anger. His situation is beyond complicated and she truly is trying to understand it from his perspective. She goes through the situation again, as accurately as she can manage:

After being kidnapped and implanted with ticking time bomb mind flayer parasites, a hot and powerful drow sorceress (with a tendency to murder without warning or reason!) prances around in the wilds of the Storm Coast with a group of equally powerful strangers, including a famous monster hunter and a fierce alien warrior. The sorceress comes across a vampire spawn that has done little else besides use his body to ensnare meals for his master and suffer indescribable abuse for multiple mortal lifetimes. It makes perfect sense that he would use the tools at his disposal to secure his safety with a band of questionable characters. It makes sense to deceive one of these powerful fools into a relationship. It makes sense to target her as the leader of the group. It makes sense to manipulate her until she is no longer useful. It makes sense to try his damnedest to not actually feel anything for her, because gods forbid she’s worthy of real love. It makes sense. It makes sense.

Delilah sighs into the darkness. Perhaps this was not the most favorable interpretation to Astarion’s reasons for pursuing her the way he did. He had admitted that he’d fallen for her, that he wanted them to be real. It was her who felt an implication in his words that he wanted them to be real moving forward and that everything before was never real.

A chill runs through her as she takes another sip of liquor and she decides to focus on finding her way to camp. She rounds the same door twice before going the correct path and finding a host of friendly faces. Lae’zel, Aylin, and Isobel are near the door, with the former two animatedly discussing fighting techniques while the cleric takes the opportunity to rest and enjoy the peaceful evening with her lover. Delilah stops for a moment to listen in before moving further into camp, where Wyll and Karlach speak in a more somber tone around the fire. She almost goes to join them, but Karlach’s heat and ire at the Chosen of Bane the group had seen right before the battle with Ketheric is palpable in the air. Perhaps it's selfish, but she doesn’t want to be angry for Karlach's sake. Not when she’s already feeling so anxious and irritated about her own stupid problems.

Owlbert barrels past Delilah with Scratch hot on his feathered tail, passing close enough to her that she dodges clumsily and begins to trip. Her hands are sent to break her fall but instead catch on the bleached white linen of Astarion’s shirt.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before speaking with a coy grin. “Darling, I knew you’d fallen for me but I didn’t realize you were going to take it literally.”

A fierce blush overtakes her, bringing a pink tint to her gray complexion. Her tongue rolls awkwardly in her mouth as she tries to cover herself, “I– I didn’t mean to fall. But thank you.”

“You’re completely trashed,” Astarion observes with amused surprise as he attempts to help restore Delilah’s balance. He steadies her forearms before tentatively letting go. Her red eyes, so similar to his own, beam up at him as she only slightly wobbles. His lips pull into one of those sweet half smiles that he only gives to her. “Adorable.”

“Y’think I’m adorable?”

“We’ve been over this. You’re very attractive.”

Delilah narrows her eyes and snickers, doing her best to rub her hands together like a villain in a street play while still holding onto the bottle of liquor. “Again.” He rolls his eyes and begins to lead her towards her tent.

“This–” Astarion emphasizes as he easily snatches the liquor from her loose grip. “–is for not returning the compliment.”

While Astarion has it hoisted in the air, he inches his nose closer before reeling at the strong vapors of the alcohol. She does not opt to carry herself with the typical pride of a female drow, instead choosing to whine and reach for the bottle. The two are evenly matched on height, but he's a master at using his tricks to keep any item just barely too far away.

“Tut tut tut. You know how this works dear.”

She stamps her foot down playfully. “I’ve told you a million times, ‘Starion. You’re–” 

He cuts her off with a press of his index finger to her lips. “Ah-starion. If you please,” he asks with a shiteating grin. “Do continue.”

Delilah pulls her mouth to a straight line as she groans in her throat, but her eyes betray the annoyed facade she’s trying to convince him of. They’re smiling. She starts again, “I’ve told you a million times, Ahhh-starion. You’re perfectly gorgeous.”

He preens with satisfaction, tossing his hand through his hair for dramatic flair. “Thank you love, you’re quite perfect yourself.”

Delilah hums and turns away, in part to watch her feet as they approach her tent and also to avoid him seeing her as she repeats his words in her head. Her? Perfect? After all the nasty and selfish thoughts she’s had tonight, and every other night since he finally opened up to her? Hardly. Not to mention that falling for some charlatan with a pretty face and a sad life who tells her what she wants to hear is all far too unbecoming for a drow of her nobility and breeding. Her mother would literally kill her three times over for even an ounce of this behavior. It's frankly a miracle that a mistake like her made it to adulthood. And then there’s the whole thing with nearly uncontrollable murderous urges that, only a few weeks prior, had almost cost him his life?! Perfect.

Astarion notices Delilah’s withdrawal and leans forward to see her chin quivering and her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey, hey, wait.” His voice drops its usual mirthful cadence. She stops, still facing away from him. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”

“I’m not perfect,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear. Delilah kneels at the rugs outside her tent, clumsily reaching behind her ass to take off her shoes. “Also, I think I’m mad… but I dunno.” 

“Mad at what?”

“At you.”

Astarion freezes for a split second before nodding his head in begrudged acceptance. He sets the bottle down and kneels next to her, leaning forward to make eye contact. “Better to be mad than leaving me, which frankly, is what I expected when I confessed what I had done to you. I deserve your anger.”

“No, you don’t,” she says, doing her best to maintain eye contact as the liquor and tears threaten to make her crumble. “Everything you did makes sense.”

He clears his throat, giving himself a moment to gather his response. “I had my reasons, but that doesn’t mean the things I did were right .”

Delilah’s throat contorts as she tries to suppress a sob. All at once, the proximity of the others makes her panic and she quickly retreats into the darkness of her tent. When Astarion doesn’t immediately follow her, she kicks the flap. He peeks in to find her sitting cross legged at the far end, her eyes darting between him and a pillow just out of arm's reach of her.

Nervously drumming against the stiff canvas tent flap as he holds it open, Astarion sighs. “Darling, I’m not sure you’ll be pleased that we’ve had this conversation when you’re so drunk. Maybe this should wait.”

She wipes her eyes with the collar of her shirt. “I don’ care, sit.”

As he crawls in on his hands and knees, his fingers splaying out as his palm leans into the plush of her bedding, she closes her eyes to steel herself. Of their many encounters prior to Astarion’s confession, most of those had been spent here. She was no stranger to the ways of pleasure, but he had brought her to rapture in ways she had never imagined were possible. She had thought of those nightly trysts as an escape from reality, an easy and fun passion to help them both get away from the looming despair of the tadpoles. Just the thought of how Astarion must recollect those evenings makes her own memories turn sour and rotten.

He mirrors her cross legged sit from across the tent, laying the pillow in his lap so that he can fidget with the tassels and flange. He is uncharacteristically quiet.

Was he expecting a scolding, for her to hit him, or some other form of anger, even cruelty? Delilah looks down at her feet. “D’you think I’m gonna yell at you?”

“No,” Astarion says quickly. He plucks at the silver threads of her pillow. “Maybe.”

“I’d never–” she starts, before seeing a fang poke out of his smile and one of his eyebrows shoot up questioningly. “Well, not never, but not about this. ‘Nd I’m not really mad at you. I dunno. You just hurt me–a lot–when y’said you lied to me.” The words seem innocent and childish as she speaks them to her toes. After a pause, she adds, “For months.”

Astarion draws his shoulders forward until his nose almost touches his knees, almost as if he’s trying to make his body as uncomfortable as he feels. “I know, I’m sorry my love.” He looks up at her through his white lashes, a move that could fit right into his flirtatious fop routine if not for the sincerity dripping from his words. “You have every right to be mad.”

“Stop that,” Delilah begs, a smile breaking across her face as she lets out a short sad whimper.

He pulls his back straight once more, looking down before looking back up at her. “Stop what?”

“Stop apologizing and being so nice to me,” she sighs around a smile. But the smile quickly fades. She continues, “And complicated. I dunno.”

“I’m supposed to cut back on the complaints about the niceties you give to me, but you tell me to stop? I thought you wanted me to be all empathetic and sweet to every body,” he says with an air of their usual banter. The pair sit in silence for a moment as the tension once again rises, like a taut bow string waiting for the call to loose. 

“What do you mean… ‘complicated’?” Astarion asks, without hardly using any air to carry his words, staring at the pillow flange’s thread between his fingertips as he unweaves it. She knows that he knows what she’s talking about, in general terms. Delilah huffs as she lays down on her side facing away from him, unable to explain this with even the possibility of eye contact.

“I had a lot of fun when we did, y’know, horizontal stuff. I thought you did too,” she starts nervously, holding onto her shoulders as she curls in on herself. “But now… Gods, I’m so gross. I took advantage of you. And you–”

“Stop. You didn’t take advantage of me.” His voice sounds strangled behind her. She can hear him padding closer to her, slowly. “Please, look at me.”

She curls further into herself. “But you didn’t want to fuck me.”

“Stop it, Del. Stop,” Astarion says sternly, pulling her back flush to the ground. He reaches over to hold both of her shoulders in place as he steadies himself on his knees to her side. His eyes unintentionally drift towards her neck, and she recalls this position, with him leaning his chest over hers, is much like that first night when he fed from her neck. His throat bobs, swallowing his sanguine hunger, and returns his eyes to watch hers. “I tried to explain the other night, but– Please understand me when I tell you that everything I did was what I wanted. My intentions weren’t, uh, always the most proper. But! I did want to fuck you. I want to fuck you now. It's just… not that simple.”

Delilah’s skin is hot underneath Astarion’s intense gaze and salacious words, especially the way his hands grip tighter at the idea of taking her at this very moment. She could almost be satisfied with this explanation if sex was truly all that mattered to her. Luckily for them both, it was not.

“Did you ever want to kiss me?” She breathes the question, her eyes softening under the heat of his presence. 

He scoffs, releasing her shoulders to kneel beside her. He snakes a hand along both sides of her jaw and tenderly pulls her head up as he leans down to kiss her. Her hands fly up to his ears, her fingertips dragging through his curls. He brings her in closer, their teeth just barely feeling the pressure of the kiss, before he pulls away to hover over her face. He lets out a breath as he answers simply, “Yes. Any time you ask.”

“Even at first?”

“Even the most cold-hearted bastard wouldn’t look at a pretty thing like you and not want to kiss her,” Astarion says honestly, although a hint of his flirtatious tone seeps through. 

Delilah tucks her chin into her shoulder, the blush creeping down from her cheeks to her neck and threatening to envelop her whole. She deflects to save herself from burning up. “That better not be a canned line.”

“Well…” His voice cracks and the smile on his lips falters, before he searches her face for some evidence of forgiveness. She still looks like putty in his hands, flushed and pliable. His eyebrows pull together, from pity or guilt or a combination of, as he answers her. “It doesn’t matter, da– Del. It’s true.” He leans back down for a chaste kiss before pulling his hands away from her and returning to a comfortable sitting position.

As he pulled away from the kisses, she did her best to give him a sweet smile but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He sighs, laying within reach of her onto his side with his head propped up by his arm. “I’m sure you’re not having an easy time trusting me lately, but… Honestly, it's true.”

She sympathized with his mild frustration. He was saying and doing all of the right things, and they were true, so why was she still upset?

Rhetorical question: she knew.

“Astarion?” She turned to face him with her elbows together and hands gripped at her chest.

“Yeah?”

“I… I think I love you,” she whispers. By the tension between them and the blank look on his face, she feels that the air has been sucked out of the tent. She feels light and breathless, floaty even, at finally putting words to her inner turmoil, and so she continues. “Even though you’re a liar. And I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”

Astarion lets out a large breath, rolling onto his back. As he fearfully studies the roof of the tent, Delilah wonders if he’s reliving some terribly sad memories of others who told him the same thing, others that were doomed to fall prey to Cazador. She wonders if it's the opposite, that he’s never been allowed to keep anyone long enough for them to love him. Or simply that he doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want to hurt her even more. No matter what his reason is, she reaches a hand out to lay in the empty space between their bodies. An offering that she allows him to take or refuse, regardless of how much she wants to pull him closer.

“Del, I– I’m not sure what to say, but I–”

“If you don’t love me back, or you don’t know how, or whatever…” As she continues, the words trip and catch on the emotion pouring through and threatens to burst from her very soul. “Don’t tell me the truth. I can’t, I’ll… But please, don’t lie either. No more lies.”

Astarion rolls back onto his side to look at her, to look at what he’s done to her. One of his hands finds hers in the no-man’s land between them, as the other snakes through to hold the other against her sternum. “No more lies,” he repeats, earning a nod from his crying lover. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to work on, well, me, and as I do, I will become better. Stronger. For the both of us.”

Delilah curls inwards around their conjoined hands, breathing warm but fading sobs onto the cool skin of his arm. “Are we… Are we going to be okay?”

“Unless you or the tadpoles have other plans.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

He pauses, uncomfortable still with the concept of optimism. Promises of good tidings she made to him were generally met with a bitter snap from a man who over centuries had the ability to feel hope beaten out of him. But, in this moment, he softens at her, as he always has, and says, “Yes.”

They lay in silence for a few too many moments, just holding each other's hands and sharing a peaceful moment of mutual understanding. Delilah begins to lose the fight against her heavy eyelids. The anger, embarrassment, and heartache all seemed so trivial as she laid there with him on the brink of consciousness. He was right; they would be okay. 

The last thing Delilah remembers is her grip loosening on his hand at her chest, but the lingering sensation of his cool skin on hers. When her trance breaks, she finds herself parched under a haphazard pile of blankets with a certain elf still resting at her side. She gently lays some of the warmest ones on top of Astarion before she leaves to nurse her hangover, just barely missing the way his eyes peek open mischievously. She misses the way he hesitates to follow her, instead choosing to snuggle into her warmth like a reptile to a sunny rock, trying to keep her heat to himself as the stones beneath the bedding already begin to sap it cold and dry.

#another self indulgent ficlet i made on a whim #honestly after his doozy of a confession i just know theres a second debrief where tav is like #“hey i know we ended things so nicely last night with the hug and all but lets circle back to the bit where YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT EVERYTHING #so this is me writing that scene and mild heartbreak for my homegirl delilah #astarion x tav #astarion x the dark urge #astarion x durge #astarion x female oc #drow tav #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #angst #fluff and angst #alcohol mention #love confessions #drunken confessions

[oreo-cookies-fan]

Berlin quotes that made me scream MARTIN in my head:

Numero uno:

Andres: The love of your life is a fairy tale! I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but … love just fades away. The only thing worthwhile is the beginning. That's the best part of love. When every song you hear reminds you of her. When you're having a meal together and all you do is talk. When everything she says makes you laugh.

Damian: No, no, no. Love is precisely what comes after all that. When the spell is over. Then, during dinner, you're happy to be quiet because you're at peace. To love someone, you must really know them. How can you love someone you don't know?

Numero dos:

(Don't know why the English version didn't translate this, but here it is:) Damian to Andres, while talking about how love ends and makes you suffer: You're a sick narcissist. Crees que estar a tu lado merece ese sufrimiento? (Translation: Do you think that being by your side is worth the suffering?)

Numero tres:

Andres: You see, I have become a fugitive of love. And what I'd really want, if I'm honest, is that it lasts forever. (...) my own experience of love is that it just melts away, you know? I realise the only thing I know, the only thing I've ever known about love is the beginning, but God, what I want, what I really want, is to experience a love that never ends.

((Damian: There's always an end.))

Bonus, because it's about Damian and his wife, Carmen, but it also hit like a line from a Berlermo gifset:

Carmen: Maybe you are the love of my life, but that doesn't mean we'll spend the rest of our lives together.

#berlin netflix #berlermo #ofc the famous buenos aires coffee shop quote but i couldn't find it in the show atm #does he know? does he know that martin loved him exactly the way he wanted? #it's killing me #this sick bastard is killing me #please give us season 2 if only to make its last scene a berlermo first meeting and andres narrates it as the moment he met #the love of his life #feel free to create heartbreaking gifsets with those quotes #or write fics about them #both is great #lcdp

[dipplinduo]

me when kieran brings food for juliana: 💝❤️📈✨🌻🌅🫶

me the second briar touches him and the thoughts come back: 👿👿📉💀🌃😒

WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN LOOOOOL

#i feel this way too tbh #i really enjoy writing their fluff and have things in store and then im like #“oh yeah hes possessed tho” #and then some of the angst scenes have been fun but also heartbreaking as of recently #its just SO important for the plot #it will all payoff #i promise #the moment will be 👌🏼 #my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran

[lost-tardis-room]

imagining proper communication for aziraphale and crowley is so difficult because so much of their dynamic is built on talking around what they really mean. stemming from 'we have to be careful what we say to each other in case heaven/hell is listening, don't thank me for helping you i'll get in trouble' all the way to 'one of us just essentially confessed love and the other literally said 'i need you' after we both vastly misunderstood that what we were asking each other were different versions of the same thing (being safe and together)'.

how would they even talk to each other if they didn't have to censor themselves? if the repression hadn't been there? it wouldn't've been the same story at all. their entire relationship is built around Not saying what they mean, and where that fails just repressing it. but it slips yknow, like they so obviously love each other, almost definitely they can tell the feeling is mutual - but they can never acknowledge it. because heaven or hell might be listening, and they probably don't know how to talk about feelings cos they just. never have.

which is really heartbreaking.

#if they don't have a Conversation in s3 i might actually cry #these twooooooo #ough they just love each other so much but can't say it #i had this thought before #but i was trying to write a scene where they actually talk about their feelings and couldn't think of what they'd say #because they just. never say anything when it matters #ahahgsnhgshgsaghsaghsagh #like i understand repression and lack of communication but these two have been next-leveling both of them for centuries #with the extra bonus of fearing for each others existence #it's so fricken heartbreaking #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley

[grimfantas]

you can call me heartless all you'd like, but it won't bring her back and it won't help you heal.

#tails the fox #shadow the hedgehog #sonic x #based on a roleplay I had with my partner. who writes an extremely incredible shadow #I write my thoughts here because Sonic X ending has me terribly fucked up #considering how young tails is to be suffering from grief I bet it's especially difficult to handle a kid who has no clue how to process it #who had to make an extremely unfair choice to kill someone he loves. and then to take it out on his big brother #Taking out his anger and insisting on blaming someone for cosmo's death... it's very heartbreaking. #Imagining if Shadow had come back and Tails had not finished grieving yet. there already soooo much anguish #Exploring grief in art is very very fun but there is something so gutwrenching imagining someone so young have to figure out how to deal #with that. younger people often acting out and not realizing how unfair they are until time has passed and not understanding #multi faceted perspectives etc. I know its a bit odd to go crazy about osmething like this over Sonic X but something about Cosmo and Tails #just hit very hard and I care about them very much. tails is huge favorite. i care about him so much #I probably shouldn't dwell on the sad parts of sonic x too much but that last scene tails has with sonic stuck hard #Can't imagine how strained it might feels for the next few months. and Sonic just takes it. Can't even look at Tails or answer him. HMMMM #anyways im done being chatty in tags I will delete my thoughts later as per usual. hehe. Sorry <3 #sonic

[cashmere-caveman]

My Country: The New Age, first and last episodes & Hanif Abdurraqib, For The Dogs Who Barked At Me On The Sidewalks in Connecticut (text/audio) image descriptions in alt

#damn imagine if hui-jae was well written beyond like episode 7 or so. wouldnt that have been something. #just saying but if they had actually leaned into the parallels between these three instead of doing ... whatever weird comphet stuff we got #it couldve been so good!!!! or even if they had just let her keep her fun gender!! but no :( #im so glad hui-jae is busy being the occasional third in hwa-wol and mun-boks marriage while seonhwi raise goats in seo geoms village haha #anyway. enjoy yet another half assed post abt parallels and heartbreak in the parallels and heartbreak show <3 #also do urself a favour and check out the whole poem hanif abdurraqibs writing is insane #my country: the new age #mctna #han hui-jae #nam seon-ho #seo hwi #caveweb #actually no i still have sth to say. like im not even mad that theres comphet im just angry its so bad like??? what was that #that wasnt even half assed that was like quarter assed at best #also the hui-jae / seon-ho axis is so tragically underused #like i respect that they just fully made them both hwisexual but couldnt we have at least gotten more than some crumbs #they went from vaguely friends to bitchy antagonists to i dont even think of u at all and thats honestly so lame #tension of a wet lettuce leaf. seon-ho was the one who made the first step towards friendship in ihwaru and he also warned her abt his dad #and wingmanned hwi (took hui-jae to see hwi kick ass) like in the beginning he was the one w the people skills! #and u are telling me apart from one extremely unbelievable attempt at a love triangle w the 'last drink' scene u never did anything w them? #like so much of my grief w this show hinges on the fact that there shouldve been more Good Times before everything went to shit #to make it hit harder bc imagine the beef if seon-ho and hui-jae had been actually good friends before he betrayed hwi #them seeing each other at court as the king and queens respective confidantes wouldve been so much better like !!! #wait actually i need to stop here i can feel myself getting hangry i need to eat lunch but imagine. imagine #the good timeline where hwi just got to be fully bisexual and there were more divorce flavours than just hwi/seon-ho and hwi/bang-won... #solarpunk_future.jpeg #nam seon ho #han hui jae #<- thats just bc i never fucking know what the consensus on the romanization of everyones names is #i personally go w the hyphenated method but lots of ppl write each syllable separate and ive seen the kpop variant (written tgt) used too

[moondal514]

Gonna make a book collection called books that want to be animes so badly

#so far it’ll include #aftg #and #light from uncommon stars #both books/series also have this straightforward simplistic writing style that the uncultured would call ‘bad’ #but really it’s quite conducive towards the storytelling that each book/series is doing #and both have these heartbreaking scenes that just hit you over the head and make you stare a wall for a while #moonie posting

[shroudkeeper]

❝ There was something I should have told you then if I knew that evening would have been our last. What I did was immoral but that hasn't stopped me before, how could I stop after coming so far, after falling into the temptation of your company. I continued because I had no choice but to play the part designed for you, selfishly coveting your attention, and allowing you to place your trust in me. A man who would deceive you with every smile I offered.

If I only knew this would be our last time together. The last time you would look at me this way. I would not have forced my hand away from you and surrendered to the warmth of your presence.

Finally embraced you.

But instead, I chose to make coin..off of you. ❞

I went into the gorgeous and cozy noodle bar, The Umbral Udon and of course, I had to gpose after seeing how immersive this was, a perfect backdrop for a story! Please give it a visit, it deserves all the visitors !!

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshot #hancock fitzgerald #kikyo takahashi #hah h a .. #how many fluffy scenes do I make before the heartbreak continues #and please check out the Umbral Udon yall #it is such a cute spot for RP! #ffxiv writing

[friarvelune]

Some day you will grow up and learn to lie / just like your daddy did when he told you no one ever really dies

I hope that I'm not there when you realize / that those with their nose in the air will never look you in the eye

(toe to toe, streetlight manifesto)

[Image description: two photos of the same drawing, the first one just the inked sketch and the second with color from colored pencils, of Lord Sterling Whitetower from Inn Between. He is a man with an athletic build, slightly pointed ears, medium brown skin, and short, curly, dark brown hair. He is wearing silver plate armor with a blue cloth wrap and a belt with a scabbard around his waist, and is holding a simple broadsword and a shield with the symbol of St. Cuthbert. His eyes are closed. The color drawing has a silver D&D dice on each corner of the page. End of image description.]

#inn between #inn between podcast #lord sterling whitetower #sterling whitetower #inn between art #my art #making the rounds through posting art of the gang captioned with lyrics from songs off my playlists for them #there's better songs for sterling but i very specifically did not put the red mark on his shield #so i couldn't use any of the lyrics from later songs #i will do another one someday. my 'in league with dragons' sterling art will be fucking heartbreaking just u wait. #this was mostly an excuse to figure out how armor works. i didnt figure out how armor works but i think it looks okay? #those silver dice are what i use to roll for him when i'm writing fight scenes in fic fun fact #also i gave up on trying to take a picture that accurately reflects the colors. that's the best i could do im sorry #okay byyyyye hope u like it! <3

[boxwinebaddie]

so i thought too much about mortally wounding jersey at the end of rm & started writing it/blocking dialogue. oof.

blood tw — sorry, yes i know; hell awaits.

bonus:

triple pain bonus:

#not me mirroring the pep chap 1 ending scene #but so much worse #not the spiced apple cider fireball and metal #we live in hell #also pls note at the end #right before kyle succumbs to his blood loss and passes out #he’s talking and stan says You Talk Too Much Mi Sabelotodo #and the first time they kiss in rm #kyle is like this is a bad idea maybe we shouldn’t do this #and stan says you talk too much mi sabelotodo #AAAAAAAAA #my fav thing is stuff said at the begining #comjng bsck at the end #i love repetition #especially if it’s said sarcastically at first #and comes back and it’s heartbreaking and tragic #i’m gonna write this maybe #while trying to exclude major plot details #bc im still plotting out the end #BUT AAAA #KYLE QUOTING THE CHAPTER 4 #STAN BIRTHDAY LETTER CLOSING LINES #IM SICK!!!! #also the first time stan and kyle kissed #stan said ‘kyle can i k-kiss you’ #AAAAA I HATE EVERYTHING #BOOO NINA!!!

[willbyers-stanie]

i dunno why i expected the duffer brothers to write a good story involving queer people or poc because their biggest issue was only ever being nerds

#the shit they pulled with lucas erica argyle that goes with stereotypes makes me pissed #or the scene where jason had pulled a gun on lucas and made him empty his pockets and the flashlight makes me sick #everything they wrote with pic was stereotypical or downright sick #oh and robin will and eddie just shows how they don’t give a fuck about their queer audience #robin got a love interest that was basically her in a different font bc they don’t k ow how to write other queer characters #will being used to only further the ship that has the guy he’s in loved with is so goddamn heartbreaking #fuck the duffers #lucas sinclar #will byers #robin buckley #erica sinclair #argyle #eddie munson