the way that one line from the new epilogue in an astarion romance is going to HAUNT me
just. what a profoundly intense thing to confess to someone.
like, just these six months of newfound happiness with you exerts a force on his heart equal and in direct opposition to two centuries of endless torment, the gnawing hunger and exploitation. this flashbulb-bright fraction of his long life holds the same gravity to him as years upon years of darkness and suffering.
in all likelihood, he hasn’t even known his lover for as long as his worst memory lasted, that year sealed away to go mad from starvation and sensory deprivation, yet he still tells them this brief time has been so fundamentally and powerfully important that the weight of even that unimaginable hell is vanishingly small compared to this present he has now and the future ahead of them both.
Danny wakes up, strapped into a rollercoaster train car with a bunch of other civilians, in a dilapidated amusement park, with an insane clown laughing through the speakers.
He can see that the track is entirely broken, and that it will send them straight to the ground.
Danny knows he won't die.
Danny knows the civilians in the train car with him will.
So he slowly freezes the wheels until the car stops, a mere four feet from the edge, allowing the icy tendrils to snake down the support struts and reinforce them. His eyes are letting out a faint blue glow, his hands frosted over, and he isn't so much focusing on keeping the ice stable as he is focusing on getting it into the gears and ensuring that the train car can't be knocked off the track.
Now the civilians are feverishly whispering words of encouragement to him, to keep it up, while the local vigilante family fights the Joker.
Why, oh why, did he think that going on vacation in Gotham was a good idea?