#[aspen's journal]

[tilbageidanmark]

...We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive....'' And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming:Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?''

[adventures-with-aspen]

Hopes and prayers, friends. Aspen and I are going on a very short, very local nature walk with my parents—who last interacted with Aspen the day we brought him home. 3 years ago?

I don’t have any differing expectations for Aspen than any other outing. The trail is 4 miles and very flat so it’s barely nature.

My parents, however, hold in a very old-school opinions of a “good dog”. I would label them as “balanced trainers”—with an emphasis on adverse tools like head halters and e-collars.

I don’t agree with their methods at all and imho their relationship with their own dog suffers because of it.

But, my mom especially, has spent the last 3 years stating that Aspen is “too much dog” for my wife and I to handle. And I have spent the last few months trying to convince them that they would understand him more if they would spend some time with us.

So, here we go!

[davekatzdefensesquad]

6•27•24 || 2 fillings later

[velvet-and-aspen]

Secret Journal Entry #8

We have been traveling for about a week now, on foot. Well. As on foot as I can being lifted by Aspen's psychic energy half the time, at this point. I never anticipated I'd need to be active enough to travel many miles a day at minimum, but.

Aspen seems healthy enough, even if they are compensating for my own shortcomings... I wish I could float as they do.

Oro and Noodle seem to be doing well as well, and are even helping out when I can't. I feel tired, and I am so worried about us getting caught by my ex-employers.

Aspen seems to feel like we're being followed. Aspen says they don't recognize the psychic signature, even among the ones they felt from the hideout. The signature doesn't seem to be outright malignant, though... Aspen senses more of a curiosity.

...

I think I have seen glimpses of Amaranth, on top of this, too. I think it would make sense that Aspen can't feel their presence, since their dark typing cloaks from psychic probing. I hope Amaranth joins our little party soon, officially. Maybe they're the reason our travels are going as smoothly as they are?

[amateurconfessions]

Day 21 of posting my entire collage art journal in order

Pages 43-44, March 2020

“You forget that, in the dark, we must move closer together in order to see eachother. 

You were never alone.” -Iain S Thomas

[rayneing-on-your-parade]

It infected the house, of course, brought it crashing down upon my parents in a collapse of diseased brick and septic foundations, but I escaped.

Day 6 of @intr0vrt3dextr0vert magtober: rot

Again, I have strong feelings about Mike Crew, and I knew I had to do this for rot. It wasn’t even a question, I’m not really super huge into a lot of corruption statements, and so I took the opportunity.

Is it bad I don’t really want to blame mike for anything he did? Yeah. Probably. But I know exactly how ptsd and fear can drive someone to do something and honestly, good for mike for escaping. Not just the house but everything. I wish I had a eldritch way to do the same.

Prompt list | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

[wishlisted]

mineral kingdom journal from of aspen

[astrolovecosmos]

The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

[mudandmire]

Contrasts

Azris Week - Day One: Contrasts

~~~ Hello hello! I found the Azris ship and the community this year and have absolutely been consumed by it. I love this idea, I love these two characters, and I love that there's so much potential between them and for them to feed and inspire such a wonderful community. I've never participated in the acotar fandom apart from this, and I'm so excited! Thank you so much to @azrisweek for putting together this event, I have had so much fun letting my brain run free like a dog off a leash with these prompts :D ~~~

Tell me

Azriel calls him tatlım, and Eris doesn’t know what it means.

It’s a secret, he supposes he can accept it—relate to it. Nooks and hidden corners itch and snarl with the weight of his own. An enchanted drawer he keeps in the washroom holds his greatest wonder and his greatest shame.

The journal weighs heavy in Eris’s mind. He traces back the parchment pages with intangible fingers during lulls in his father’s council meetings. The drone of bees, lazy and fat in the afternoon sun becomes the hushed whisper of a canyon gale through dried grass. The lines he inks, stroke by stroke, Azriel matches in full, thrumming strides. Words next to his are clean, unbroken, while Azriel’s remain thick, written in charcoal with smudges at the corners from where his fist has run over the line.

When it’s dark, a time when even shadows cannot creep and loom larger, Eris presses his own fingertips to those words. The smears of charcoal because Azriel had told him early on in their budding friendship when they were young that he can’t use quills.

“They're too thin, my hands shake too much.” A smaller version of Azriel speaks the memory into his mind. The whorls and pockmarks on his hands hidden between the gap of his thighs.

Eris had taken it as a challenge—and now he revels in it. Azriel is messy with his charcoal pencil, too free with his mistakes and smudges and it leaves Eris half a country away and entirely breathless.

‘Tell me what bothers you, tatlım.’ Azriel had written him earlier, the familiar scrawl of his heavy hand appearing stroke by stroke in the filled pages of Eris’s enchanted journal.

Two were made, Eris gave one away. He could not bring himself to regret it even if his life were on the line.

‘Tatlım?’ Eris had asked, his letters looped and coiled together in the way they get when he rushes, when he needs answers.

There was no sound save for Eris’s own steady pulse, the whistle of air through his nose as he waited for a response. And yet he could’ve swore he heard Azriel’s laugh, the breathy one, brush against the point of his ear.

The words appear in the space between one breath and the next: ‘Maybe one day, gach’lilit, I will tell you. For now, stop avoiding my prying.’

Eris places a hand on the rise of his chest. Holding in something that seems to be rising from his stomach to his throat and lands gently on his tongue like the orange and black patterned butterflies in the garden.

‘Tell me now,’ he begs, ‘and I will tell you whatever you wish, Azriel.’

‘Come back to visit me, sweetheart. That’s all I ask.’

It had formed a pause in their effortless back and forth. Eris wanted to—Azriel knew that. No, the issue wasn’t in Azriel’s plea, he knew just how much Eris longed for the little village in the Illyrian steppes. The stable in the field and the small, knobby kneed, black lamb that follows Azriel around like ducklings in the Forest House pond in spring. He misses the creeping, ruby red moss and the yellow and sage aspens that crop up from out of the golden plains like the jagged teeth of a cliff.

Most of all, most desperately of all, he misses Azriel. There is not one inch of his soul that doesn’t.

The inked tip of his quill hangs over the page, a knife poised for the final push. Through skin, muscle, bone, to the heart of everything—the rot that waits, festering under the floorboards of his adamant desire to run. It is one thing; it is also a collection of things Eris has stored like the most gruesome of trinkets, the most harrowing of trophies.

Because Azriel calls him sweetheart. He writes in his tongue letters of longing and punctuates them with words like tatlım, and gach’lilit. As much as Eris wants to stitch those given titles to his chest, he already has one.

Eris Vanserra. Heir of Fire. Son of Autumn.

Sweetheart. Tatlım. Gach’lilit.

He cannot have both. The heir who wears the crown, who feels it’s golden spiked thorns pierce the thin skin of his head knows this. Eris Vanserra was not born with room on his chest for titles other than this: his father’s son.

When his quill meets the page, a heaviness in his hand that wasn’t previously there, he knows Azriel already knows what he will write.

‘Soon,’ he lies, ‘when the festival of the summer sun comes, I’ll visit.' Eris Vanserra cannot flaunt about the wilds of the Night Court without purpose or reason. Even less if the hint of the reason is his desire to see an Illyrian male—but he can set out on inter-court business to strengthen alliances, break down information, and gather intel. Eris Vanserra cannot winnow straight from the quilts of his bed into the hay-strewn floor of Azriel’s stable.

No matter how much he wants to.

His chest pinches, a sharp point digging into the sensitive skin between his ribs when Azriel takes a minute longer to reply. The page remaining horribly empty with their spare words, their delicate dance.

‘Then I will just have to hold onto these words a little longer, besheirt. I wish for you to hear them in person, for they are as sacred to me as you are.’

Something cracks, folds then splinters and out pours a smile like evening sunlight through the painted colors of autumn leaves in the canopy. The tension building in his shoulders leaks down and pools around his feet, an unwanted puddle he completely forgets about. Eris may be an heir, a son of autumn, and child of a loveless, forced marriage; but he is also sacred. Something holy and divine by only the rights of Azriel, and Azriel alone.

Eris has his titles. The stitched corners of his heart taken up piece by piece, but he will forever play the game of keeping himself in between the two if it will let him keep Azriel.

He has his own titles to give him.

~~///~~///~~///~~

(Key for words:)

Tatlım - ‘Sweetheart’

Gach’lilit - ‘Firefly’

Besheirt - ‘Notion of a soul mate, but mostly means Intended in terms of spouse’

aH. Alright okay cool I'm so normal about them. This is a short little thing, and it doesn't follow canon lore lol sorry about that. I really loved the idea of contrasts because for me it's what first drew me to this pairing. At first it seemed like there were too many contrasts for them to even be compatible, and then through softening my perspective of both of these characters and their flaws (and no small amount of delusion in which we merely squint from afar at SJMs portrayal of these characters) I found that maybe these contrasts actually enhance their chemistry. what crazy imagine that.

[fiercynn]

palestinian poets: hala alyan

poetry has been keeping me going the past week and i thought i'd share some of my favorite pieces by palestinian poets. i was originally going to repost my favorites but just realized that might not be appropriate, so instead i'm going to feature a poet in each post and share my favorite pieces by each.

HALA ALYAN

hala alyan is the author of the novel salt houses, winner of the dayton literary peace prize and the arab american book award, and a finalist for the chautauqua prize. her latest novel, the arsonists’ city, was a finalist for the 2022 aspen words literary prize. she is also the author of four award-winning collections of poetry, most recently the twenty-ninth year. her work has been published by the new yorker, the academy of american poets, lit hub, the new york times book review, and guernica. she lives in brooklyn, where she works as a clinical psychologist and professor at new york university.

IF YOU READ ONLY ONE PIECE BY HALA ALYAN, MAKE IT THIS ONE

OTHER POEMS I LOVE BY HALA ALYAN

“The Interviewer Wants to Know About Fashion” at lithub

"Interactive: House Saints" at the poetry foundation

"1999" (from her 2019 collection The Twenty-Ninth Year) at lithub

"When They Say Pledge Allegiance, I Say" at the adroit journal

[duskysprings-if]

demo (coming soon) | ro appearances | other characters

❝welcome to dusky springs. a family-friendly p̷̧̲̱͛͊̉̔̑͂ă̴̤̝r̶͎͗͋͗̈́͌͠͝͝a̸͉̫͌̉̆d̷̢̨̛͚̠̖̺̞̲̍̃̓͊̄͗̚i̷̟̱̖͆̓̉̉̽͋̌͠s̵̤̦̠̝̬̩̻̓ḙ̵̺͎̳̰̩͂̌̽͆̏̒̈́.❞

stuck in dead end jobs to pay the bills is not the future you or your twin sister envisioned for yourselves. so, when your grandfather bequeathes his museum of mysteries to you both in his will, you both leap at the chance to turn over a new leaf and start again.

only the town of dusky springs is nothing like you expected. the town is too vibrant, the people are too friendly, and the woods bordering the whole place are way too eerie for comfort.

still, you and your twin manage to carve out a piece to call home and with it, create a small family that consists of three employees of varying skill and sass, some rich kid with a surprising amount of sense, a wandering stranger, and the demon you accidentally summoned thanks to an old journal you found.

a journal that leads you to the realisation that in dusky springs…

no one is safe.

dusky springs is 18+ cog wip based on alex hirsch’s gravity falls.

content warnings include explicit language, optional sexual content, murder and attempted murder, graphic depictions of violence, blood, and injury, emotional abuse, age gap (optional), body horror, manipulative behaviours, and alcohol and drug use. please proceed with caution.

⛦ customisable mc. play as female, nonbinary, or male with cis and trans options available. chose your pronouns, identity, and titles separately.

⛦ personality stats include: stoic/emotional, cautious/reckless, ruthless/merciful, genuine/sarcastic, kind/rude, stubborn/compliant & sanity. skill stats include: physical strength, charisma, intelligence, and magic. These are subject to change, however, this if is story driven and you will not be punished for low stats.

⛦ four characters to romance with two poly options available to pursue. platonic routes available.

⛦ manage the museum of mysteries, investigate the going’s on of dusky springs, and try to keep your ragtag family from blowing something up.

aspen lyrik [m/f/nb]

the demon you accidentally summoned and bound to you. aspen is quick-witted and intelligent, and you can’t tell if they’re fond of you or not. one moment, they’re refusing to speak to you and the next, they’re almost dying in order to protect you. you knew demons were going to be confusing, but nothing could have prepared you for yours.

loukas/louella cynara [m/f]

one of the employees you inherited with the museum. lou is the laidback life-of-the-party. despite their somewhat slacker attitude at work, they become a fast and loyal friend and appear ready to accept whatever crazy theories you throw their way. as a dusky springs lifer, their insight and knowledge could prove valuable.

vanya seneci [nb]

the child of the richest family in town. vanya lives off daddy’s money without shame. getting caught up with you and the imaginary mysteries of dusky springs was the last thing they wanted. except when things get a little real, you and your twin are the only ones they can turn to.

rayn/raelyn esias [m/f]

the stranger. r rolled into town around the same time you did. the only thing you know about them is the name they gave you and the fact that they seem to know a lot more about dusky springs then they’re letting on.

poly options are aspen + rayn/raelyn and loukas/louella + vanya

[pupsmailbox]

ACADEMIC ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ adeline. agatha. alastair. alex. alexander. alexandria. alisa. amber. ambrose. ambrosia. amorette. andrew. annabel. annabeth. annalise. anya. arden. artemis. arthur. ash. ashford. aspen. athena. atlas. atreus. augustus. avery. beatrix. blair. blake. blythe. bram. bronwyn. caspian. charles. charlotte. christopher. circe. claude. coraline. crimson. damian. damien. damon. daphne. darcy. demeter. diana. dorian. durant. ebony. eden. edgar. eleanor. elenor. elizabeth. elvira. emberl. enid. eris. everett. fantine. felix. fern. genevieve. george. grey. griffin. haven. hazel. hecate. henry. hester. holmes. hyde. inkesse. inkette. inkie. inky. isolde. ivie. ivy. james. jane. journalle. julian. julius. juno. kane. killian. lenore. lilith. lorelei. luna. magnus. malachi. mallory. maude. meredith. naomi. narissa. nicodem. nightesse. nightwing. nimue. noire. noiresse. noirette. odessa. odette. oliver. ophelia. orion. percy. persephone. peyton. phineas. phoebe. quill. quille. quinn. raven. ravenesse. ravenette. ravenne. remus. romero. rory. rosalind. rose. rowan. rowena. rufus. salem. scriptesse. sebastian. stoker. sylvain. tanith. theo. theodore. theodosia. trista. tristan. victor. victoria. vincent. virgil. wilhelmine. willow. wynona. xanthe. zoltan.

PRONOUNS ⌇ acade/academia. amber/amber. an/antique. arch/architectself. arch/archive. art/art. art/artist. arti/article. arti/fact. artifact/artifact. baro/baroque. bea/beauty. bis/bisque. book/book. bookworm/bookworm. calligraphy/calligraphy. can/vas. candle/candle. cer/ceramic. char/charcoal. chess/chess. clas/classic. clay/clay. clock/clock. co/collect. coco/coco. cocoa/cocoa. cof/coffee. coffee/coffee. col/color. coll/collection. collage/collage. con/cept. crea/cream. crow/crow. cur/curate. dra/drama. dust/dust. essay/essay. fea/feather. feather/feather. fig/figure. fil/film. flicker/flicker. gal/gallery. glaze/glaze. globe/globe. gold/gold. hazel/hazel. his/history. history/history. hon/honey. hue/hue. hypo/hypothesis. illus/illustrate. ink/ink. journal/journal. ki/kiln. knowledge/knowledge. le/letter. learn/learn. letter/letter. li/library. lig/ligature. lit/literature. mar/marble. mur/mural. murder/murder. muse/muse. muse/museum. night/night. no/note. novel/novel. page/page. paint/brush. paint/paint. paint/painting. paper/paper. para/dox. pen/pen. pho/photo. pi/pigment. piano/piano. poe/poet. poem/poem. por/trait. porcel/porcelain. print/print. qui/quill. quill/quill. raven/raven. rea/read. read/read. ren/renaissance. rev/revolution. scrapbook/scrapbook. script/scripts. scroll/scroll. sculp/sculptor. sculp/sculpture. sketch/sketch. speci/specimen. spine/spine. sta/stamp. stai/stain. stamp/stamp. statue/statue. story/story. stu/dy. study/studie. study/study. surreal/surrealism. tea/tea. theo/theory. theory/theory. thes/thesis. time/time. tweed/tweed. violin/violin. wheel/wheel. ⌛/⌛. ⌛︎/⌛︎. ☕/☕. ✒︎/✒︎. ✒️/✒️. 🏛️/🏛️. 🏺/🏺. 📜/📜. 🕯️/🕯️. 🖼️/🖼️.

[adventures-with-aspen]

I’m going on a hike in an area that doesn’t permit dogs and Aspen is throwing an absolute fit because I picked up my daypack and have not touched the leash

[davekatzdefensesquad]

I’m so excited to get a good smile and healthy teeth. I’ve been self conscious about my teeth/smile my whole life. Yes, it’s more important that they’re healthy, and for the most part, they’ve gotten better on that front, so I think I can be a little vain and want to feel good about myself for once.

[velvet-and-aspen]

Aspen's Journal #1

I'm really worried. Velvet has been able to walk less and less each day, so I carry them best I can. Oro and Noodle and I get food and Velvet is able to cook it, but. I'm worried. They're so tired.

Are we doing something wrong?

Amaranth is protecting us, but. What if something is feeding off their energy or something, neither of us can see it? What if the berries aren't good for humans?

I have so many questions.

I wish I knew how to care for my guardian. I feel like a failure. They've done so much for me.

[spacesquidlings]

He's Never Tried To Be A Saint

Description: Although their romance had not started as innocently as she had thought it would, Aspen looks back on each moment shared with her beloved fondly. Perhaps too fondly, because he wants her attention focused on the present, on him now.

Warnings: NSFW (softcore sex scene), mentions of blood

Notes: Hello!!! Here's my second attempt at a fic featuring Astarion. I've gone ahead and officially named my Tav as Aspen (I thought it was pretty and I just love a plant name) as a heads up!!! This is sort of my reimagining of snippets of their relationship up until a sort of nebulous period after the end of his story quest (story route??? after he's confessed). Please only read if you're 18+ as this does have a sex scene pretty early on

*********************************

The first time Aspen had made love had been when Astarion had come to her in the dark of the forest.

Well, she’d considered it love, but to him it had just been sex, nothing but animal, empty sex.

She hadn’t even come with the intent of doing anything, she’d only wanted to apologize, to explain to him that she would be the most horrible of partners, that she was a virgin, that she was utterly unsuitable for him. And she’d tried, when he’d emerged from between the trees, his words dripping in seductive charm. She’d rambled aimlessly as his brow had creased, fluttering her hands before she’d managed one final apology and scurried away.

Tried to scurry away, anyways. He’d reached out as she’d attempted to hurry past, snagging her arm and drawing her close, her chest pressed against his.

He’d said a few sweet words, murmuring softly as he’d brushed her hair back from her face, the pads of his fingers sketching across the line of her jaw, over the rounded curves of her ears. He’d told her that he did want her, truly, and that it only meant he would have to be gentler, that her standards would be set very high.

He’d pressed his lips to her throat, and she had felt his smile against her skin as her pulse had thrummed furiously. She’d felt the scrape of his teeth, but he hadn’t bitten her, instead peppering languid kisses down to her collarbone. Then he’d taken her hand, guiding her to a little spot he’d set up, complete with a bed roll and wine and a few pretty candles she hadn’t known he’d gotten his hands on.

Looking back on it, Aspen couldn’t help smiling just a little. For all his machinations at the time, he’d waited until she’d given him a definite yes, until she’d been absolutely willing to let him have his way with her body. She’d already fallen in love with him before then, and as the night had stretched before her, infinite, with no dawn in sight, she’d somehow tumbled even further.

He’d offered her wine, and he’d spoken with such softness, and as she’d begun to melt beneath the weight of his attentions he had touched her chastely. Fingertips grazing her cheek, palms running along her arms, lips pressed to the flutter of her pulse.

It wasn’t something she’d said aloud, but rather something she had scribbled furtively in her journal when she’d realized she was already in freefall, but she’d been in love with him then. Even after she’d learned this moment had been a part of a scheme, a revelation that had pierced her heart and had made her eyes burn even as he’d admitted that it had meant something to him, loath as he’d been to admit it at the time. Still she’d loved him, had loved him more by then, and the quiet moments that first time before he’d stripped her of her clothes and had filled her body were still held precious as a dark jewel cradled between her palms.

Even once he’d received his ‘yes’ he had been gentler than she had thought he would be. There was always a rowdiness about him, a sharpness that had made her assume he would be rougher. And he had been, somewhat, as he’d pushed her to the ground, leaves pricking at her bare skin. But he had been gentle too, as his hands had skimmed her curves, as he had pushed apart her thighs, fingers sinking into her soft skin as he’d brought his mouth down to her core. He’d spoken softly, his words like feathers grazing across her skin, as he’d coaxed sighs from her lips.

His pace had picked up the more sound she’d made, her sighs turning to moans, his name a desperate prayer on her lips, a plea. She’d had to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else, knowing her traitorous heart would certainly cry out that she’d loved him.

So she’d settled on his name, and it had become the only thing she’d been able to think of as he’d filled her over and over, as his teeth had pierced her neck, her mind growing fuzzy from desire and blood loss.

When she’d awoken the following day she’d been sore, her head swimming, a headache beginning to form behind her eyes. And yet her heart had been so full, and there had been hope pooling in her belly. Hope that perhaps it had meant something to him, perhaps that night had meant they could be something, together.

Astarion had evidently been thinking something entirely differently, speaking casually to her, standing far from where she’d been curled up on the forest floor. She’d had thought perhaps they would cuddle together for a while yet, the day still so young the sunshine was watery and soft as it wove between the trembling leaves in greens and reds and golds. Although why she’d thought such a thing was beyond her; despite the tenderness that he’d shown the night before, he was all cool business now. He’d been the same man who’d delighted in violent displays and oceans of gore, he wasn’t exactly the cuddling type.

He’d instructed her to dress with the efficiency of a soldier, quickly lacing his own shirt to hide the red marks she’d left on his chest before packing up the accoutrements of his seduction. Then she’d been ushered back to camp, his teasing voice caught in the wind, whispering that all their comrades probably knew of their tryst from the sounds she had made.

The hope she’d carried had sputtered, but she’d clung to it all the tighter, refusing to let it fray. Astarion could have had anyone in the camp, all of their comrades powerful and skilled and beautiful and utterly terrifying. She’d supposed there was something to be said for her being an easy mark, but surely there had been something more to it than that.

He’d begun spending more time with her after that, flitting around her more and more often with each passing day. He’d used new pet names whenever they spoke that made her toes curl, had seemed willing to divulge some of the details of his past to her, trusting her to listen as he’d told her the horrors he had endured. And then he’d begun searching her out after they’d set up camp, for more than just her blood although he had never admitted it. He’d be near when they travelled, barely a breath from her side whenever she’d looked

Aspen had tried convincing herself that surely he was only toying with her, and yet she’d let herself hope, anyways. She’d let her heart fill with warmth at the sight of him, at every absurd thing he said, at every half-smile he offered her when they spoke in the shadows of the night. More than a few times she’d even let herself be led far from the glow of the fire and the eyes of their companions, melting into his arms as he’d promised to show her more wondrous things.

As if there had been anything more wondrous than him.

He’d never hold her afterwards though, seeming to draw a line between them that he was unwilling to cross. Neither had he ever shown any casual affections, no tangling fingers or backs of hands brushing together or small embraces. Sometimes he’d sit near her as she’d kept watch overnight, but there had always been space between them, as if he had been scared of what would happen if they’d touched.

Like the roots of a flower towards water, Aspen had felt drawn to him, a magnetic pull that had her swaying close without much thought. So all-encompassing had the need to be close to him become by that point that some nights she’d thought she would cry. Others she’d thought she would scream at him, tell him to leave her be, her heart unable to handle whatever it was that he was doing to it. She had not been able to withstand his scheme, whatever it had been, and she had thought she would certainly die from it.

She’d done none of those things, instead forcing herself to take a few steps away, to remind herself that it was likely a relationship was nothing he would ever want. She’d never tasted the bittersweetness of love before, but she’d known she’d needed to shove it down, only allowing it free in the confines of the small journal she’d had with her.

So she’d contented herself with being his friend, with sharing scraps of the night before someone traded watch-duty with her and she’d been able to rest, with talking and never touching, with rolling her eyes at the silly names he came up with, the even sillier things he’d said.

And then…

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.”

The truth had come out, his eyes glowing carmine from the light cast across his face by the fire, his brow wrinkled in consternation, his voice cracking with anxiety as he’d come clean.

At first he had reminded her of a penitent, as if he were begging forgiveness. Sadness had been etched into the lines of his face, but his eyes had shone with something more than firelight. Burgeoning hope, unfurling like a night blooming flower beneath the silver of the moon.

“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

The piercing wound torn through her heart had been quickly stitched together as words had spilled from his lips, a dam to his own heart that had been torn asunder.

Hands shaking, heart stumbling like a child learning to walk, Aspen wasn’t sure if she’d taken even one breath as he’d spoken. As he’d confessed.

“I care for you.” She still did not know how she’d managed to say the words without tears, her bottom lip wobbling, her voice sounding breathless.

His eyes had widened at her own quiet confession, at the admission that had been lurking in her heart, curled up like a hibernating bear.

Her body moved of its own accord then, her arms wrapping around him, holding him close. She’d felt him tense, his breath catching. And then so slowly she hadn’t been sure if she was dreaming, his arms encircled her waist, his head nestling into the crook of her neck. She’d held him as tight as she’d dared, trying to put all her love into the embrace, trying to draw away all loathing he felt for himself, all the fear.

“What do you want to do?” She’d asked quietly, her cheek cushioned on his shoulder.

“I… I don’t know.” He’d murmured his response against her skin before she’d stepped away. She could have held him for an eternity, but she’d also known he’d needed his space still, that whatever was being spun between them was delicate as gossamer thread, and that it would take time until it was stronger than iron.

For a moment he’d looked like he’d chase after her, gather her in his arms once more. But he’d relaxed, a contented smile spreading across his face, more real than anything she’d seen before. And there, in his eyes, that tentative hope growing, blooming until it seemed to set his face alight.

The memory of it all was like sugar melting on her tongue, the shining parts of it that had warmed her heart like sunlight reflecting off water. It flowed through her mind, and she could see it clear as she could make out the trees closest to their camp. His hand reaching for hers, holding it as though she were made of glass as he breathed his next words, forever ingrained in her heart.

“Where have you gone, love?” She startled at the sudden intrusion into her daydreaming, the memories torn like ripped tapestries from the forefront of her mind.

She blinked, looking to the side as Astarin settled his chin on her shoulder. The corners of his lips were quirked up in a half-smile as his arms came around her waist.

“Well?”

She frowned. “Well, what?”

Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes as he squeezed her tighter. “Darling, you’re lucky I love you, because you’re not always the brightest.”

She scoffed, trying to wriggle free from his hold. “If you’re just going to insult me, I’m going to go somewhere else.”

“Well no, I don’t want that.” He snickered at her vain attempt to escape. “Don’t go, my love, I’d only wanted to know where your mind had gone.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she looked away. If she told him she’d been thinking about him, about them together and the parts of their early relationship she’d blindly hoped he’d return his affections, she would most certainly die. He’d likely tease her about it terribly, not giving her a moment’s rest for the remainder of the night.

Astarion huffed, and she was reminded of a petulant toddler stamping his foot when he didn’t get his way. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just a little tired,” she mumbled, chewing on the corner of her lip, hoping he didn’t notice her flush.

“Hmmm.” He lifted one hand to her face, humming as he slowly tilted it to the side, his eyes bright with mischief. “Just as I thought. Darling, you’re blushing.”

She shivered at the way he drawled the final word, his lips curving up, looking like a villain as he held her fast against him. “I’m not, I’m just a bit warm.”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t lie to me, I can see right through you. You’re red as blood.”

“And?”

“Well, I’d just like to know what’s made you blush so.” He was grinning so broadly now she could make out the sharp points of his incisors. His voice softened, nothing more than a sensual murmur as he brought his lips to her ear. “And I do hope it’s about me. There’s almost nothing I love more than making you blush.”

If she whined then he would win, but if she did nothing then he would continue to tease her until she did whine, and she could not come up with a witty rejoinder to save her life.

“Fine,” he said, barely a moment later. “Keep your secrets.”

His arms started to loosen as he drew away, but Aspen spun around to take hold of him once more. “Wait!”

An ivory brow arched, and he cocked his head to the side, still smirking. “Whatever is the matter, pet?”

Her voice was small as she spoke, and she was unable to meet his eyes, even as they bored into her. “I was just thinking about you.”

That seemed to surprise him, air passing from his lips before he could respond. “About me?”

She shuffled her feet. “Yes.”

Astarion recovered quickly, once more looking every bit like a handsome devil, delighting in as much chaos as he could sow. “And what about me exactly were you thinking of?”

She pouted. “Isn’t it enough that I’m thinking about you, even when you’re right here?”

“I certainly hope you’re thinking of me.” He rested his hands on her hips, his thumb idly stroking her side. “I want you to think of me every day. I want to be a part of your dreams, pet.”

A nervous giggle bubbled from her lips, and Astarion grinned, seeming pleased with her response.

“But,” he continued. “Right now I would like you to be in the present. I’d like you focused on me now.”

“Has something happened?” She stood on her toes to peer over him, sweeping her gaze across the camp as she looked for any signs of danger. Had he found something? Heard something?

“Nothing so serious.” He stepped in her line of sight, coaxing her down from her toes so he was all she could see once again. “I’d only wanted you to come sit with me. Everyone else has gone off to sleep, and well…” He trailed off, some of the mischief in his eyes replaced by something more tender, something that warmed her heart to see.

Aspen relaxed her hold on him, smoothing her hands over his shirt where she’d been grasping it. “I’d be happy to, love.”

“I would hope so,” he teased, but the gentleness with which he took her hand did not escape her notice, undercutting his airy tone. “Considering I seem to occupy even your waking thoughts when I’m not nearby.”

They settled near the fire, more for Aspen’s sake than his. She was prone to getting cold easily, and the light made it easier for her to stay awake as she kept watch. For a while they only chatted, speaking of trivial things that didn’t much matter. But she liked the cadence of his voice, liked the way his hands danced in the air as he spoke, and he seemed happy enough to oblige.

The day had been long, though, and it was inevitable that they would lapse into silence. The night was alive with the rustling of leaves and the buzzing of insects and the keening of the wind, and the sounds filled the empty spaces left by their voices.

“Aspen,” he said after some time, peeking up at her from beneath his lashes. He was stroking her hand, seeming to struggle to find his words.

“What is it, my love?” She brushed a curl of hair away from his brow, and his eyes tracked the movement.

He cursed, grabbing hold of her hand before it fell away. “You’re making me soft, Aspen. I think you might be the death of me.”

She blanched, frozen even as heat spilled through her veins as he brought her hand to his lips, delicate kisses pressing against her fingers. “I don’t want to be the death of you.”

The smile he gave her in response was small, gentle as the first light of day. “I’m already dead, darling. Although perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?”

His breath tickled her palm as he laughed, planting one final kiss to her hand before setting it down. “It’s nothing, love…” His brow furrowed as he trailed off, seeming to steel himself. “Although, I was wondering if you’d allow me to, um.”

Catching him tongue-tied was a rare treat, although Aspen was more interested in learning what he was trying to say rather than teasing him for a momentary lapse in his eloquence. “What would you like me to do, love?”

He sighed, shaking his head. His nose wrinkled, and he looked almost annoyed with himself. “I was wondering if you might hold me, just for a while.”

“Oh my love.” Not even the magic of an enchantment could make her feel such a way as she did now. Her heart was so full she feared it would burst, blood spilling through the spaces between her ribs, her veins running dry as she drowned in this love. “Of course I can. For as long as you want.”

He let her draw him close as she laid back, his head cushioned against her chest. His hair tickled the underside of her chin and her throat, but she didn’t mind. It was soft, and he let her run her fingers through his curls as he settled.

“How’s this?” She wrapped her free arm around his waist as she continued to play with his hair, holding him just a little tighter.

He nestled closer. “I like it. This is nice.”

“I like it, too.” She pressed her lips to the top of his head, sighing. “I like holding you.”

“In that case I’ll make sure to ask this of you as often as I can.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

They lay in silence, Astarion a comforting weight on her chest. She rested her cheek against the top of his head, twisting her fingers into the soft, wispy curls at the nape of his neck.

“Aspen?” He broke the silence with a gentle sigh in the shape of her name.

“Yes, love?”

“Make sure you’re focusing on me right now, not whatever you’d been daydreaming about earlier.”

She stifled a laugh. “But I already told you, I’d been thinking about you.”

“Well focus on me, the real me, alright? I don’t want to share your attentions with anyone else, not even the me in your head.”

She didn’t bother stifling her laugh this time. “Of course, love. I’m all yours.”

“Good.” He sighed, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. “And Aspen?”

She hummed in answer as she trailed her fingers down the back of his neck.

“I love you.”

The words were whispered so softly they would have been swept away by the wind had she not felt their reverberations in her bones. She held him tighter, buried her face in his hair, breathing in the smell of rosemary and bergamot that always clung to him beneath the sweat and dirt and blood.

“I love you, too.”

He sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t get all sappy on me.”

“You started it!”

He chuckled. “I really do love you.”

“How is that not sappy?”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I wanted to say it all the same.”

Aspen was the one sighing now, sketching her hand down the ridge of his spine before gliding her hand back up to his neck. “And I love you, terribly. With all my heart in fact.”

“Gods help me.” But she knew he was smiling, knew he was pleased from how he tightened his arms around her, holding her tight.

Aspen settled once more, humming as she played with his hair, listening to the sound of his steady breaths, smiling to herself. Perhaps he was the cuddling type after all.