#and I keep filling them out

[tj-crochets]

I am once again in insurance hell, so let me reiterate: Aetna is the worst health insurance company I’ve ever had to deal with. Avoid it if you can. 

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[three-dee-ess]

Hey I saw your post about the puffy battery and my 3DS has that (it’s starting to crack the case). I knew it was affecting the battery life but I didn’t know that it was dangerous. How would you go about repairing/replacing this?

ok this is going on my FAQ after this. possibly in my pinned post.

Contact your local *non emergency* number and ask them how to dispose of a puffy lithium ion battery. Follow their instructions.

To remove the battery from the case (which is the best thing to do in that situation) follow the instructions linked in my pinned post "for physical 3DS issues" (https://www.ifixit.com/Device/Nintendo_Handheld_Console)

Be as careful as possible to NOT puncture the battery.

for getting a replacement, just look at the number on your 3DS's battery and type that into amazon. Should be plenty of results, all around $10~$20 USD and they should work perfectly fine. check the reviews if you are worried.

Again, if you have any battery that is bending or breaking the case, is is a legitimate explosion hazard. That battery can explode into a fiery ball of toxic gas. It is in your best interest to dispose of it as soon as possible.

this also goes for batteries inside of ANY electronic device. Switch batteries, macbook batteries, phone batteries, electric bike batteries are also examples of lithium ion batteries that get a lot of usage and often can get overcharged.

resource links:

[luxaofhesperides]

For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it. 

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so. 

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that. 

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts. 

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham. 

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal. 

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car. 

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie. 

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it. 

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it. 

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny. 

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief. 

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around. 

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge. 

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food. 

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall. 

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly. 

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all. 

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic. 

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that. 

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.” 

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by. 

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down. 

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him. 

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment. 

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over. 

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her. 

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms. 

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries. 

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny. 

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief. 

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead. 

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind. 

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. 

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

[d8tl55c]

[lady-raziel]

hilarious that with each new day that passes a new bit of dirt from JD Vance's past gets discovered and plastered over the internet...it's almost as if this is why presidential campaigns have always announced their running mates well before the convention...so that if glaring issues with a candidate came to light quickly there would be time to replace them on the ticket before they were officially locked in...it's almost as if certain things in political campaigns were done for a reason, donald...because the very same critical failures had happened before...but no i'm sure you and your guys attempt to recreate a fantasy version of history while ignoring all the reasons that history was a disaster will work this time...because you are built different and the 10000th time trying fascism will work like a charm...

[shokveyv]

shut up

[cerealmonster15]

walks into the function wearing a tshirt that says ASK ME ABOUT MY TOXIC THIRD YEARS POLYCULE HEADCANONS

this map has been stewing in my mind for years i think and i finally wrote it down in the illegible spaghetti way that i always do let's GO

lilia is not in the polycule he's just playing his own game of collecting sons. everyone is his son. he's also going to watch the drama because who doesn't love a soap opera playing out in real life he's got front row seats to the divorce vortex.

cater/trey/rook/vil are the ultimate four way polycule but also oh god theres so much going on there.

cater and trey are a ride or die duo but also trey knows cater sometimes isnt completely open with him but trey has a very passive nature to him as we've seen in book 1 and when he mentions cater's wish to himself in the starsending event... but theyre still close and care for each other a lot and i will die defending them if i have to fjdklsjfds

rook and vil oh my god rook and vil. they are so married. and so dramatic. and so. sdkfjsdkljf a little divorced because rook is also in love with the biggest rival of vils life but that is NOT enough to break their marriage. love finds a way. somehow. fdskjfjksdlg

^ i could go much more into both those duos but we simply. we dont have time we are moving along we are walking

rook and trey beloved science weirdos oh my god every time theyre on screen together theyre so funny. i love odd friendships. science marriage real.

cater canonically flirted with vil even tho it got somewhat censored in engtwst and was partially probably for clout reasons HOWEVER, to ME it's also for bisexual reasons. vil is canonically very pretty and caters like yeah 🧡🧡🧡 vil can see through when cater's being more superficial BUT ALSO they have genuine moments of getting along!!! like in events, beanfest 2 and the puppet one that's not out in eng yet. no spoilers here but there is a bit in puppet event that has me so vindicated on how they really do work well together and respect each other!!!!!!! into the polycule you go.

vil and trey,,, gestures to vil's lab coat story klsdjflksd they get along and it's cute. everybody loves trey.

even leona wants trey in the divorce polycule. no spoilers but please see playful land puppet event / leona's card vignette for that event. and also i think treys platinum birthday card story sljdflksdjf

the extreme difference between how malleus reacts to cater bothering him vs rook bothering him or even just Talking To Lilia is so funny. like he gets along with rook sometimes but in those two pe scenes hes SO aggro he wants that twink OBLITERATED he is going to KILL ROOK HUNT. but he will play tag with cater :^)

leona is the king of divorce. he is divorced to everyone he touches . he invented divorce. he's turbo divorced with vil and malleus because he and vil are just sooooooo. fsdkjfskdlg when therye on screen together it's like passive aggressive but mostly just aggressive bitching and bullying. theyre so funny. they have this energy of like "we have Tension but also i am going to kill you. i begrudgingly respect your abilities but i will only say so with layered insults." like the way vil says "so leona's got a pretty face but that's ALL he has going for him" like. multiple times. why does he keep doing that.

and then whatever he has going on with malleus is so funny. like malleus seems like hes a smug little bitch having fun with the banter [again he wants to Destroy Rook in those PE stories, but leona's blatant insults i feel like he's more teehee you stupid bitch >:)] and leona's just so pissed mad angry forever he's like no i need this dragon fucker DEAD for EXISTING !!! but i think malleus' having fun with the fellow teen experience of stupid razzing

leona and cater are giving me subtle divorced vibes in that one scene in book 2. listen. i have headcanons. ive talked about it. moving on 🚶

rook. leona. i feel i do not need to elaborate jfklsjfkljsekljfkl

idia is so funny. why are his opinions about everyone around him either "oh god hes ultra tier scary" or "he's so sparkly dazzling handsome beautiful". he does this often with no filter and it's so funny. i like that he and leona played chess for like hours or whatever in that one birthday vignette but i forget which one lol i think it was idia's union bday or something

do i have more to say. ive been thinking about them for hours and also years. i can and will talk about them forever i think they are So funny. this is just a messy summary of it all i'm barely scratching the surface i simply cannot go into full detail or this post will Never End GOODBYE!!!!

[funnierasafictive]

Palestinian Campaigns Compilation

Hello everyone, we've gotten a lot of asks over the past week, and since there's been a lot of them, I decided to put them all in one post, which will include previous campaigns. I've done my best to pay attention to the ones that have been vetted.

All numbers are as of August 5, 2024

The Alanqar Family - €44,710 / €49,000

Mohammed Hijazi - €5,947 / €20,000

Jad Al-Haq's Family - $6,295 / $40,000

Doaa Jadalhaq's Family - kr68,784 / kr300,000

Safaa's Family - $5,120 / $75,000 goal

Mahmoud Alkhaldi's Family - $5,680 / $50,000 goal

Wafaa's Family - €13,340 / €100,000 goal

Youssef Al-Habeel's Family - £7,527 / £20,000 goal

Ghazi Younis's Family - $1,880 / $50,000 goal

Sohaip and Mohammed's Family - £202 / £6,000 goal

Abdul's Family / Paypal - $23,975 / $78,000

Please read their stories, all of which are written in their campaign pages as well as images and some videos. I will be linking this post to our pinned in case anyone wants to use this as a reference.

[arom-antix]

As part of a two-part reverse bang-bang, here's some more Valentines art to which @probablytoooldforthis wrote an amazing fic, Sweets for the Sweet! Please go check it out, I promise you won't regret it, and keep your eyes peeled for the second chapter - and artwork, of course - coming out on White Day aka the 14th of March!

Also, I this is an unrendered version, the finished version will be posted within about a week's time (hopefully) since I don't have access to digital drawing at the moment YuY

[sleepsucks]

[manasurge]

Just a bit of lore relevant vent art (with terrible proportions bc apparently I mess that up horribly when I'm tired ugh. Watch me regret posting this tomorrow. The head size is already driving me mad bc it's too big, and I can feel myself wanting to abort this mission already) of Mourynn just, lying down on top of one of those large elevated Pale Tree roots far above the Grove (and far away from everyone else), and during the time between the early years and before the Personal story. Caithe is gone (Destiny's Edge), Wynne is gone (bc well, y'know...), even Faolain is gone (bc of Caithe in DE), and she's just feeling miserable, lost, and alone. (Her hair is in between her sapling hair and the Zhaitan hair, so it's grown out a bit bc she's depressed, and she's meant to be in the new outfit she designed, but I'm in the process of redesigning it a bit, so I've made a few tentative changes for now. Her collar is now just an extension of her clavicle leaves which can be put up like a collar, or can be draped down over her shoulders or back)

[bigkickguy]

Olivia is my favorite so far!!

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird. 

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands. 

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable. 

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents. 

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government. 

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner. 

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense. 

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap. 

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half. 

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go. 

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion. 

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint. 

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal. 

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist. 

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot. 

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch. 

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares. 

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait. 

For now, this is more than enough.)

[ozonecologne]

.

[loquaciousquark]

From @maybethings and @blackestnight: wallflower

From @compels and anonymous: daffodil-flavored spider flower

Wallflower: fidelity in misfortune or adversity

Daffodil: new beginnings

Spider flower: elope with me

And you thought the last fill was indulgent. Have some utterly unrelenting sap, and then an argument, and then more sap. 5800 words.

--

Gradually, over the course of several minutes, Tav became aware of the fact that she was happy.

Only a handful of times in her memory had she recognized the contentment as it happened. Mostly the realization had come only with idle retrospection—tendays, months, years later—and with a bitter nostalgia that it had all slipped by so easily, without her noticing.

Not this time, though. This time, with Astarion’s cool arms twined around her shoulders, her head tucked firmly against his chest, and their limbs tangled up in both luxurious satin sheets and afterglow, Tav was happy and she knew it.

Gods. Lliira herself would struggle to match this joy, surely. Tav trailed her fingers idly up Astarion’s arm, then cupped his cheek as she kissed the underside of his chin. He gave a drowsy, questioning hum, tightened his arms around her, and buried his nose in her hair with a frank fondness that nearly finished her off altogether.

Tav grappled with her own instinct to succumb, to lay her head back down against his chest and let his shallow, steady breathing carry her off to sleep. The question won, but barely. “Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

Even his voice was relaxed. She felt like she’d chucked a rock at a window to watch it shatter. “Never mind. I’ll go to sleep.”

Astarion’s laugh was a quiet rumble in his throat. “It’s rude to tease if you don’t mean to follow through, darling. Out with it.”

“Oh, hells.”

Tav sat up beside him. The loss of contact was almost painful, but the curiosity was stronger still, and he didn’t seem to mind when she ran her fingers through his hair and tucked a curl behind his ear, only hummed and leaned into the touch. Such a simple affection. Such an honest, simple—

“I enjoyed today,” she said instead, ruthlessly crushing the sentiment. “From start to finish. I had a wonderful time with you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm. I wasn’t sure this morning, when—well, you know—”

“When the door to the bath gave way?” His red eyes flashed with amusement, and Tav groaned. Even now heat rushed to her throat at the memory. A perfectly innocent morning tryst in their room’s private adjoining bath, dawnlight spilling over them both amid the smell of cardamom and jasmine—and the room’s very locked door yielding to a housemaid’s key, followed immediately by the housemaid herself with a stack of laundered towels. Tav didn’t know which of them had been more shocked, though the fact that Tav had nearly drowned herself out of humiliation put the betting odds firmly in her corner. Astarion, of course, had found the whole thing hilarious, even sitting naked in a soapy copper tub.

“Yes, you bastard,” Tav said, covering his eyes with her fingers. “You horrible man. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’ll laugh at you whenever I like,” Astarion said archly, pulling her hand from his eyes, but his mouth as he kissed her fingertips was gentle. “Besides, you had your little revenge, didn’t you? Your own private prayer to Helm, right in the middle of that lovely expensive market.”

“Hoar, you blaspheming tosser.”

“I don’t care in the slightest.” He pushed up on one elbow to kiss her, very brief and very light, just as her own fingers had been as they’d dipped into his pockets that morning, exchanging every gem and jewel he’d lifted from the shop’s cases for pebbles and bits of broken shell. His face as they’d left the shop—preening pride replaced in an instant with utter indignance—had made her laugh hard enough she’d cried. “I’ll have my own revenge, you know,” he purred. “Try and stop me.”

“Never,” she said against his mouth. He laughed again, then flopped back to the tasseled pillow, one arm thrown carelessly above his head.

Gods, how beautiful he was like this. Happy, sated, boneless as a sack of meal. She could drink in the sight of him for a thousand years and still be thirsty at the end of it.

“You’re staring, darling.”

“I love you,” she said, as if in explanation, and felt him give the little shiver he always did when she said she loved him and meant it. “You were the most handsome man in the room tonight, you know. Not that you need me to tell you.”

“I think I’d like you to tell me anyway.”

The words were breezy, but she could hear the faint, tremulous thread of uncertainty beneath. Even Sune’s woven sash couldn’t contain how much she loved him. She wanted to curl over him like a bird, wings spread wide as she could to keep him from all harm. Not that he’d tolerate that sort of glossy protection; he’d just as soon take a hissing, clawed swipe at her himself if she tried. Instead Tav kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and pushed up from the bed.

His voice was outraged. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Just give me a minute, would you?” Tav stretched, took brief advantage of the silver ewer on the bedside table to clean herself off, and strode over to the quietly crackling hearth.

The fireplace was beautiful, the mantle ornate and elegant, as was the rest of their rented room. The finest suite of the finest lodging-house in the glittering city of Athkatla, decked crown to baseboard in brass and cloth-of-gold and carved oak polished to a mirror shine. Three servants had spirited away their belongings into drawers and wardrobes within minutes of their arrival; two more waited below-stairs, ready for the whim of the bellpull beside the bed. The great window on the west wall, heavy curtains drawn now with night, overlooked the shining bay, which had teemed in the sun this afternoon with merchant-ships flying flags dyed rich as gemstones.

And here, thrown with thoughtless grace over the back of the damask armchair set before the fire, was Astarion’s suit from their evening gala. It was one of her favorites: black worsted wool with gold peacocks stitched over the breast and back, gold piping on the sleeves and belt, more black and gold stitchwork accenting the long, lean cut of his trousers. He’d worn the sapphires she’d given him at his throat and on his fingers, alongside the ring from Avernus which he never removed, and when she’d seen him come from the bathing room fully dressed, idly adjusting a cufflink just so, her mouth had gone dry as the Skyfire Wastes.

Gods, she was flushing now at the memory alone. Tav plucked the trousers from the chair and folded them, along with the starched, ruffled white shirt he’d worn beneath the coat, and set them both atop the gilt table nearby. The jacket itself she slipped over her own shoulders in a moment of fancy. The sleeves were long enough to drown her hands past the fingertips; the hem landed halfway down her thighs. The brass toggles glanced coolly against her bare chest and stomach, like stones skipping down a stream. She turned to Astarion, arms spread. “I don’t think it has the same effect, do you?”

“No, my sweet,” Astarion said slowly, but his eyes had sharpened to a piercing, avid stare, dangerous and hungry as a blade. “I can’t say it’s the same at all.”

Her stomach lurched wonderfully, and a frisson of that same desire from only an hour ago began to coil again in her blood. But she had a point, gods damn, and instead Tav scooped up her own forgotten dress from the floor beside the chair, busying herself with brushing away the dust from the deep cerulean silk, straightening the beautiful lace netting at the wide collar, at the cuffs of the long sleeves. A thousand pearl buttons down the back, and Astarion’s elegant fingers trembling, trembling, as he feverishly worked them open before the fireplace…

“The silk’s already crushed, darling. No need to maim it further.”

Tav laughed, the reverie broken, and eased her grip on the gown. “I told you I didn’t know how to care for such expensive things. I should have hung it up right away.”

The fire in his eyes had tempered, the lust banked to something more patient and smoldering. He propped his head on his hand as he watched her. “And deprive the laundresses of their sole joy and purpose? No, pet, I think your time was much better spent.” He licked his lips lasciviously. “Perhaps I could remind you again. Right now.”

“Do you remember that woman from the party?” Tav said instead, returning the dress to its padded hanger, shutting it away in a wardrobe carved with foxes and hunting dogs. “The one with the silver feathers in her hair, and the necklace made of ropes of rubies?”

His look flickered with surprise, but he only raised a brow. “I suppose she left a vague impression. Painted nails, a very tacky sort of fur stole. A general air of grasping desperation. This is whom you’ve been pondering so acutely all evening?”

“Yes. No. Not all evening.” Tav rolled up her too-long sleeves and went to the sideboard. She poured herself a glass of burgundy wine from a crystal decanter, took a sip, and leaned against the back of the armchair. “She was the richest woman in the room. Did you know that? She could buy every gem in the Diamond Dragon twice over without denting her fortune in the slightest. She practically holds court at the Shadowgates House, even though her mother was only a minor marchioness from the Lathkule family.”

“How suddenly you’ve acquired all this information.”

“The duke from Tarm was very drunk and very eager to share.” She took another sip of wine, considering him. “She fell in love with you the moment you walked through the door.”

“Did she?” Ah, there was the badly hidden triumph. He ran his fingers through his curls with absent flair. “Well! Perhaps her taste isn’t beyond redemption.”

“You didn’t notice? She stared at you all night, along with her little flock of gauzy geese. They might have had fishing lines hooked to their noses for how they followed you the whole evening.”

“No, my dear, I can’t say I did.” His expression was at once gloating and aggrieved. “This delightful little tidbit came to you from your Tarmian duke as well, I suppose?”

“No.” Tav was now hiding behind her wineglass like a coward, and she knew it. “She told me that part herself. Right before she offered me fifteen thousand gold danters to leave you and never show my face in Athkatla again.”

All the mirth drained from his expression like she’d opened a tap. He fell carefully, precisely still; his tone went sharp as flint. “Oh? Is that so?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“And what did you say, my love?”

“I said that I’d sooner drink from a Luskan gutter than consider something so despicable. I said if she ever spoke to either of us again I’d have her face plastered on every public placard from here to the Gate with her direct address and a golden promise to the first person to pinch her jewel-case.” Tav gave a crooked smile. “I wanted to tell her that she was now banned from our duchy, only I couldn’t remember where we’d said we were from.”

“Selgaunt, darling. Sembia.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “And then?”

“And then I stole two of her ruby chains and hid them in the pudding, and I slit the lacings of her gown so that it would all come loose the next time she danced.”

“That explains the flurry of organza during the second gavotte. I did wonder. Come here.”

Her heart in her throat, Tav set down the wineglass and went. Astarion pushed aside the satin sheets and sat up on the edge of the bed as she approached, and as soon as she was within reach he grasped the collar of her borrowed jacket and pulled her down into a kiss.

It was a searching kiss, a question she didn’t know quite how to answer. She tried anyway, cupping his face in both hands, curling her shoulders into him, lingering as long as she could in every touch. His hands gentled on her collar, then slid beneath it to twine around the back of her neck.

Eventually, slowly, he pulled away. Tav blinked dazedly, trying to force the world back into focus, and when she found Astarion’s face again she was surprised to see only a thoughtful appraisal there. His thumb stroked up the line of her throat, bumping over the small divots left among her freckles from many quiet evenings, then down again.

“Astarion? What is it?”

“Fifteen thousand gold danters,” he said slowly, that eyebrow rising once more.

“By all the pride of Memnor,” she sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be smug.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t I be?” He laughed and slid his hands down to loop around her waist beneath the jacket. “To think, the greediest little wretch I’ve ever known still manages to prize my heart above enough coin to buy a small nation. Darling, it’s gratifying, truly.”

“Oh,” she said, momentarily disarmed. She’d expected him to be pleased the woman had offered the sum in the first place, not that Tav had loved him enough to reject it. “Astarion, did you—you can’t have thought for a single moment I’d have taken the money.”

“Of course not. I’m worth at least twice that.”

By all the living gods. He was lying.

Her vision went white, and she yanked away from him like he’d burst into flame. “You bastard. You utter wanker. How dare you think I’d have considered fifteen thousand—thirty thousand—a million gold danters! She could have offered me the keys to all the vaults of Evereska and I would have laughed in her face.”

“For suggesting you needed keys, I’d have laughed right along with you.”

“Shut up. How dare you think there might ever be a price to be put on what we—what we’ve managed, against all odds—” Tav whirled away, arms crossed tight over her chest, gaze darting blindly over the settee, the crystal decanter, the plush hand-dyed rug. She ran out of things to look at and spun back to Astarion, livid. “You bloody—horrible man. Oh, you awful—not even she made me this angry when she asked. I wanted to laugh when she said it. Because the moment she did I looked over at you, and you smiled at me, and I could tell just from looking that you were—that you were happy to see me—really, honestly happy, and I thought—”

“Tavish—”

“Don’t speak. Don’t you dare say a word.” He looked seriously alarmed now, half-risen from the bed, but Tav was too angry to stop. “She asked me how much it would take for me to leave my husband. And in all the confusion of what she wanted I didn’t even question it—didn’t even consider it wasn’t really true. I forgot how much was the party mask and how much was real. She didn’t know the marriage was pretense and for a few minutes, neither did I.”

“Tav, darling—”

“And then when I did realize—when I remembered it was all a farce and that you weren’t really—” She raked her fingers through her hair, dislodging the knot she’d tied, and wound it back up in a frenzy. “Today was so wonderful, Astarion. All of it. The stupid incident in the bath and walking with you through the market district and stealing your lifts and every single second of that awful party. Not because of what we did—but because it was all with you. She asked me to leave my husband and my first thought wasn’t ‘I haven’t got one,’ it was ‘nothing could make me leave him.’ And then when I remembered it wasn’t real, I was shocked by how much I felt—how much I wanted—”

Ilmater’s rack, what she wouldn’t give for the ceiling to crash down around her. Astarion was watching her with wide eyes, lips parted enough she could see the tips of his fangs; his hands were clenched in the sheets. Oh, gods, what a fool she was making of herself, but the words refused to be still. “I love you, you stupid berk. I love you. Every moment I spend with you makes me happy. Even right now, when I’d like to throw you right out the window into the bay—there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. Not for any number of danters, not for every diamond in Amn. I don’t want to be your wife as a lie to get into a ball; I want to be your wife so that the next time someone tries to buy you away from me, I can introduce his teeth to the back of his skull.”

Astarion gave a sudden, hollow sigh. She’d heard it before. It was the sound he made in battle when someone struck the air from his lungs without warning, when he’d failed to anticipate a blow.

Damn and damn and damn. What was she doing? Astarion stared at her as if she’d lost every last part of her mind, his shoulders stone-stiff against her wrath, blank shock painted across his features. His eyebrows had climbed so high they’d nearly disappeared behind the white curls.

Tav’s courage failed like a withered spell. She went back to the sideboard and refilled her wineglass with shaking hands—for the price they were charging a nonexistent duchess, she supposed it had to be excellent—and threw it back in two gulps. Perhaps she had lost her mind. She’d certainly lost her tongue, a lifetime of professional silence capsizing wholesale against some hurt feelings and a little annoyance.

At last she heard him rise, then a whispering shift of silk as he pulled on the ornate dressing gown the servants had laid out for him. She filled her wineglass a third time, but his pale, graceful fingers plucked it from her hand before she could drink. She didn’t fight the theft, but neither was she strong enough to face him; she took a few aimless steps towards the fire instead, her toes sinking into the rich carpet, and wrapped Astarion’s jacket more tightly around her.

The sound of the water lapping against the seawall below them roared like thunder; the fire in the hearth snapped like a whip. She clenched her jaw, trying desperately to keep the waver from her voice. “Astarion. Do you really think I’m that craven?”

“Oh? Is the penitent finally permitted to address the bench?”

He was closer than she’d thought. “You’ve never been penitent in your life.”

“It’s exhausting to always be right. One occasionally must try something new.” He came around the chair to stand between her and the fire, the dressing gown’s quilted lapels pulled snug to his throat, his face carefully blank. His shoulders were thrown back, Tav realized, as if steeling himself for a fight. “I don’t think it’s unfair to suggest you have a particular relationship with the common coin. An avaricious one, I mean, and one that occasionally borders on gluttony.”

She wanted to drink something very badly, but he was still holding her wineglass. “Ouch.”

“Don’t misunderstand me; it’s part of your charm. I’m certainly familiar with insatiable appetites, and if nothing else, it makes holiday shopping for you quite simple.” He hesitated. “But to suggest you would permit your—hunger, shall we say—to overpower the affection I know you hold for me—well. It was an unworthy thought. Unkind of me, and certainly unfair to you.”

“More than affection,” Tav mumbled. She pressed her lips together until the prickling behind her eyes faded. “Astarion, I would never.”

“I know,” he said, and if she didn’t know better she would think he was flustered. “But the doubt does creep in every now and then, even for someone this magnificent. So you can imagine that when a perfectly straightforward scolding transfigures itself into one’s lover suggesting a very unexpected—a rather—not necessarily unwelcome—ah.”

He was flustered. And tongue-tied as a schoolboy, that awful impassive mask fracturing under the weight of consternation.

She swallowed. “You think I’m mad.”

“Only in some ways.”

“I suppose it does sound insane when I say it out loud. I don’t know if you—I mean, I’d never once thought about it before—before you. Ever. It always seemed like a thing that only happened to people who owned houses and went out to work every morning and complained about the cost of bread always going up. But then you came along and changed everything about what I thought could be real—” A humiliated laugh slipped out. “Listen, just—just forget the whole thing, all right? I won’t bring it up again. I won’t—”

He took a quick, irritated step forward. “My love, would you kindly shut up? I don’t have marriage proposed to me every day. I’d like to seriously consider it.”

He’d like to—oh.

Oh.

Tav took a stunned, shaky breath. “Well, think out loud then. I don’t propose it very often myself.”

“One hopes not.” He drained the wineglass and set it aside. His voice was pensive, unsteady; he hadn’t fed in almost a day, but his high cheekbones were flushed pink. “I do wonder, though—why now?”

Heart of the Firehair, he meant it. He wasn’t shutting her out; he wasn’t taking flight into the nearest alley. The words tumbled out like a dam had shattered. “Because—gods! Because that awful woman came after you tonight and I wanted to throttle her for trying, no matter how much money she had or how many nobles were watching. Because we’ve been traveling together for months at this point, and if I haven’t stopped loving you by now, I never will. You complain incessantly. You steal my scents. You take all the bedcovers every night and I have to fight you to get them back. You don’t even sleep.”

“Darling, I had no idea you held me in such esteem.”

She batted away his sarcasm. “I wouldn’t change a moment of it, Astarion. Not a single moment. Every gripe, every time I wake up with cold feet, every time I have to steal back something of mine from your pack—it’s all—they’re like jewels to me. Every one of them. I keep—I’ve been hoarding them up like treasures, and it’s not enough, it’s never—I only ever want more. More of the memories. More of you, no matter how much I have already. Even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.”

Astarion had gone very still. The firelight caught in his red eyes and flickered there; she thought he had stopped breathing. Hesitantly, she closed the distance and took his hands, and she was relieved when his grip instantly tightened.

“Every time I think I’ve begun to understand you,” Astarion started, then trailed off. He looked down, and Tav watched him run his thumb over the ring she had brought him from Avernus, the ring that shielded him from the blinding sun. “My dear, you amaze me. And you tolerate the worst of me, which is rather more impressive.”

“Your worst is still miles better than some people’s best.”

“Let’s not exaggerate for the sake of adoration,” he said, but there was a warmth there that sparked a painful, fragile hope. “You know, I never considered holy matrimony for myself. Not seriously. Oh, I had it offered a few times over the decades, and I suggested it myself here and there as part of a lure, but it only takes a few dozen lovers disappearing into Cazador’s dungeons for the idea to become simply part of the stage dressing.”

Her instinct was to deflect, to retract the idea altogether, but his expression—curious, thoughtful, no fear at all—silenced her. “I’m afraid to admit, darling, that was true even for you. My first friend in two centuries; the first lover in my memory I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying more than once. It simply never crossed my mind.”

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. His eyes softened considerably, and she realized he was breathing again. “I’m beginning to believe that may have been a mistake on my part,” he continued. “In fact, the lapse may have been unforgiveable.”

A thrill jolted through her. “Astarion…”

“It’s only very recently that I’ve permitted myself to imagine a future, you know. Any future at all, much less one with you in it.” His fingers slid along her wrist beneath the jacket’s overlong sleeves, and she realized he was searching for the old, faded marks of his own teeth. “But now that you’ve raised the possibility, I must confess the thought of a little formal acknowledgement of our arrangement—well, it might not be the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Her hands were shaking. She felt like she was about to race into some great battle, her pulse thundering beneath her skin. “Oh, hells. Just say it straight out, would you?”

Astarion laughed. “I’m already terribly fond of the world knowing you’re mine,” he said, and then he smiled. It was a sweet, sincere smile, without any artifice at all, and his voice grew husky and tender. “And frankly, my love, when it comes down to it, I think I quite like the idea of being yours.”

The entire room seemed to dip underwater. All sound grew abruptly muffled—the hearth, the bay, even Astarion’s voice—and she clung to his cool hands as the only real thing in the world. Gradually, her own heartbeat began to thud again in her ears—very fast, very loud—and from the growing satisfaction on his face, Astarion could hear it too.

Tav forced herself to clear her throat. “You—you don’t have to decide right away. You could take some time, think it over.”

“My dear, I’m the first to admit I’m guilty of a great many things, but excessive planning is not one of them.” He draped her hands over his own shoulders, and Tav leaned into the embrace with a shudder of relief. The quilted lapels of his dressing gown were silky as sin against her cheek. “After two centuries of slavery, I hadn’t thought there were any surprises in the world left for me. I knew exactly what eternity looked like, and I couldn’t say I was excited at the prospect.”

His chin came to rest atop her head. “But you changed all that. You came and shattered every lock holding me down, even when the doors had been rusted shut so long I’d forgotten they were there. You didn’t just show me the possibility of a new world, you walked right into it beside me, and you refused to let me bring any of my chains with me on the way.”

Goldheart’s grace. He held her lightly, but Tav felt weightless as a bird, as if one strong breeze might carry her wholly off her feet. Her voice hardly sounded like her own. “You’re giving me a lot of credit for things you did yourself.”

“Don’t interrupt. You told me once that I was part of every future you could dream up for yourself. I’m trying to say that for some months now, I’ve had precisely the same notion about you.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes, and Tav realized with a shock that he was nervous. “You’re it, my darling. For better or worse.”

“Astarion,” Tav sighed, dizzy with joy, and she traced her thumbs over his beautiful cheekbones. “I love you so much more than fifteen thousand gold danters.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, oh, you louse. I wouldn’t give you up if Selûne herself spread the heavens at my feet.”

He laughed, but his arms tightened around her. “I rather like hearing that.”

“I mean it. If you ever again think for a single second that I’d simply trade you away, I’ll shave off every pomaded hair on your head. Eyebrows included.”

He made a noise of disgust, but when she twined her arms back around his neck, his smile squeezed Tav’s heart like a vise. She’d done that. She’d made him so happy he couldn’t hide it, had put that look of unvarnished, shining elation in his eyes. And if she had her way—if Tymora could spare them a single scrap of luck—she’d put it there again, and again and again, beyond counting, for the rest of her life.

His voice was low, rich. “Kiss me, darling.”

“Yes,” Tav gasped, and she surged up to his mouth.

Of course. Of course. Now she understood what he’d been searching for earlier, what her heart had fumbled to say. I’m here for good. Forever, for as long as you’ll have me. I’d have thrown her in the punchbowl if I’d thought we could get away after.

The kiss grew hot, her urgency flooding through every touch. He cradled her face like he was afraid to break her, but his fangs were sharp and pricking carelessly, and she didn’t care, she didn’t care. She loved his fangs and his temper and his complaints and every part of his bruised, scarred heart. He’d let her take it from him despite the pain, let her cup it in the cage of her fingers and hold it close, let her learn to keep it safe from all the world.

It will always be you. I will always, always, always choose you.

Astarion broke away, breathing hard. His palm rested along her throat, pressed to the hammer of her heartbeat. Tav laid her hand over his and couldn’t tell who trembled more.

“How lucky I am. The handsomest man I’ve ever seen, the most beautiful person in the room.” She hesitated, then blazed forward. “Mine for good.”

“For good, for bad, and for all the fun parts between.” He rested his forehead against hers and shut his eyes. “My lovely, foolish, perfect idiot. Impossible fortune may have finally found one of us, but I promise it wasn’t you.”

Her heart brimmed full enough to burst. She kissed him again instead, as tender as she knew how to make it. He made a soft, fervent, wanting noise as he pressed eagerly back against her, and she felt the moment settle itself like stained glass, beautiful and enduring, in the deepest part of her heart.

Yes. She’d make sure this moment stayed. This one would never slip away.

“I don’t have a ring yet,” she said at last against his mouth. “I’ll get one soon. Perhaps I’ll even pay for it.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Between your Reithwin scavenging and your little field trip to Avernus, it is decidedly my turn. Besides,” he added with faint uncertainty, “I think I’d rather like to do this properly. To have something made for you—only for you. Something that’s as beautiful as you are.”

“Astarion!”

“Oh, I quite mean it. If I failed to notice that covetous harpy at the gala tonight, it was because my attention was wholly absorbed by you. You were as brilliant as the sun, my dear, and lovelier than a waterfall of roses. I could hardly bear to look away.”

“Sune’s holy laurels,” Tav gasped, and she clutched at her chest. “You can’t just say things like that. You’ll kill me stone dead.”

His smile was smug and perfect. “You’ll have to get used to it, I’m afraid. You have a lifetime to try. And if you’re still not acclimated by the end of it—well! You’ll simply have to live forever.”

Tav brushed a wayward curl from his eyes. He let her, and she lingered, running her fingers through his velvet-soft hair. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“And I ought not have doubted. I sincerely apologize.” He turned his head and kissed her fingertips. “There. Such a sturdy foundation for our future laid already.”

“You idiot,” Tav sighed, but his hands were playing now at the hem of her borrowed jacket, and his crimson eyes had taken on an unmistakable glint. All the ornate luxury of their suite seemed to vanish at once, save the enormous crown-canopy bed and its tousled satin sheets. His hands climbed further, his mouth dipping to her throat, and she gave a breathless laugh. “We’ll have to watch the time.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I overheard the house staff after dinner tonight. They’re bringing the bill first thing in the morning.”

“Darling, I can’t say I care in the slightest.” His fangs scraped over her pulse-point, and she shuddered. “Perhaps we’ll sneak out before they arrive. Perhaps we won’t. Perhaps you’ll talk them down with that silver tongue of yours—or perhaps we’ll simply pay what they ask, hm? It might be a novel experience.”

The happiness was so bright she could hardly speak. How stupid that she had thought the day wonderful before, when it had only been the palest candle. His voice was fiercely warm, blatantly affectionate, and his hands sliding the black jacket from her shoulders were gentle enough to give her goosebumps.

Astarion, who could kill a man with a knife at sixty paces and complain about a chipped nail after; Astarion, who’d fought with her and for her from the moment they’d met, who loved her and would make a ring for her and marry her. Who trusted her, enough to kill the doubt for good.

She took his face in her hands. “I’ll never pay full price,” she breathed.

He laughed, delighted, and kissed her. His strong, graceful fingers slid between hers, taking her hand as surely as he’d stolen her heart, as surely as he’d given her his own in its place: the most perfect treasure she could imagine, no matter its cold stillness. Like a dream, the question that had started all this—the question she’d never actually asked—floated back through her mind. I had a wonderful time with you today. And you, Astarion? Did you, with me?

He tugged her down to the bed in a cloud of satin sheets. The answer burst through every stroke of his fingers, every careful brush of his lips. Yes, he said, yes, yes, and she gave herself up to the joy.

—

end.