#c: isobel

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

I trawled through a year's worth of screenshots because I wanted all the delicate face touches in one post. Happy BG3 anniversary once again and happy almost-anniversary to this iconic dril tweet.

[blackjackkent]

58 for that kissing meme with whatever BG pair of your choosing bc I'm interested to see where you go with it

(Kiss prompts)

58. Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/Onto The Bed

-----

I am resplendent.

For a hundred years I have been caged. My skin bears the golden marks of a thousand shatterings; I have broken as pottery breaks, and felt my pieces dragged back together, again and again, inexorable as tide beneath moonlight.

And with each reforging, I forged also another link in the great chain of grief as I remembered, yet again, that you were lost to me, my darling, my Isobel…

Surely I dream, now, to see you standing before me in the ruins of your father’s bastion, to know the brute is dead and you, long lost, draw breath in his stead. Surely I dream to feel my own wings at my back, the glow of my mother’s moonlight in my soul. I crave a thousand reassurances, a touch stolen between each word as we speak to the others, to prove that you live. 

That I live, and am free.

The one who pulled me from the darkness is a gentle one - like you. A monk of my mother’s faith, careful with each word he speaks. He understands, I think, when I can no longer turn my mind to any conversation.

Now, I tell him, you will leave us. We must take succor in one another’s bodies and words.

You laugh. It is like music, like bells. Aylin! you say - a chastisement that is a melody of silver and gossamer. Think me uncourteous if you will; I would brave even your displeasure, that you might again call my name…

The monk withdraws. The room is empty. Voices drift from beyond the door, but I have no care of them. You look up at me, and your lips part - not to speak, this time, but in a silent supplication. And I take you for my own.

You taste sweet, like the milk and honey of the rituals you have performed in my mother’s name. My lips capture yours and you mold yourself like water against me. It is easy as it ever was to find the places where you fit into me. I lift you into my arms and feel you lighter than you were, wasted with the grief and torment of resurrection, but this too matters not. For Dame Aylin holds you again, and she will see no further harm comes to you so long as she lives. And she will live forever. 

The room is still scattered with the detritus of battle. In my haste, I strike my boot on a fallen helmet, a broken sword. An overturned chair blocks my path; I let the moonlight rise around me and shatter it apart rather than slow my pace. Let it all burn, in truth; what good to leave any of this place intact? It has been the house of evil, and we will cleanse it with divine fire, with the purity of my love for you.

Your back strikes a pillar and you cry out - not with pain but with joy. My mouth swallows the sound and answers it back again in echo. Your legs wrap about my waist, that I might stand closer, and closer yet; there is a chill in you, my darling, my mate most high, and I will warm you though the cold be in your very heart.

Do not fear, my Isobel. We have bought the joy of the future out of our own bodies; the price is paid, and I will not be kept from the bliss we have purchased with such torment. Kiss me. Kiss me forever, and forever I shall be at your side.

[luckloveandwaterfalls]

I was looking through AoUV for research purposes and I ended up taking note of the first line from each of the first POV chapters to see what kind of tone it set for that character. And honestly, kudos to Amanda and Charlie, if you think about it they all do a really good job of setting up the basis for the POV characters.

"The Lowe family had always been the undisputed villains of their town's ancient, bloodstained story, and no one understood that more than the Lowe brothers." Right away this establishes what the Lowes are like, how Alistair fits into that in regards to the tournament curse, and the fact that he and his brother are set apart from the rest because of their family.

"The funeral party flocked around the grave as the pallbearers lowered the casket into the earth." This opening line is written so passively that we don't even know whose funeral it is, and that's kind of the point. Immediately, we know that the Macaslans are closely tied to death, like scavengers, and that Isobel's identity will ultimately come back to the survival instincts of her family name.

"Callista Grieve did not wear white to her wedding." This one makes me feral, because the first line of Gavin's first POV chapter is literally about someone else. He's not even the main character in the first chapter of his own story. He's a guest, an afterthought, and his sister's eagerness to get away from the family only solidifies this starting point for him.

"The amphitheater at the edge of her family's estate always made Briony Thorburn feel like she was stepping onto a stage." I have to be honest and point out that this opening line makes Briony sound like a fucking idiot, because wow, it's almost like an amphitheater is a kind of stage. But looking beyond that, it speaks volumes that she's already putting herself at the center of the story before the final test even happens. It sets up her complete shock when she isn't chosen as champion, and the way she always makes herself the hero.

Just some interesting stuff about the way each of the POV characters are introduced!

[filthy-reckless-rp]

♛ Spotted on the Upper East Side…

Name: Atticus Bass Pronouns: He/Him Age: 28 years old Hometown: Upper East Side, NY Occupation: Head Lawyer for Bass Industries Social Status: Insider Faceclaim: Bill Skarksgård

Who Is Atticus?

“Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead."

Well well well, if it isn’t the other Bass. Who could believe that someone from the Bass bloodline could coin a name like Atticus for a son - a symbol of justice, wisdom and morality - three things the Bass family aren’t known for playing nice in. But not you, you’re the key to the vault of the crypt where people's skeletons lie. Perhaps you can find comfort in me. Go on Atticus, I’ll never kiss and tell. XOXO —Gossip Girl

A Little Extra

Bass by name and Bass by nature. Atticus is a Bass through and through. Never mind being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his was twenty-four carat gold. Born to Jack Bass, the brother of Bart, he grew up the golden child. Unlike his little cousin, Atticus was a closed book. Fort Knox couldn’t live up to the level of secrecy that he has in life. He lived the high life, was trained to focus on money and winning and that’s exactly what he does. Thanks to what feels like a million marriages through his commitment-phobe of a father, Atticus may be a Bass but is also a cousin to the Hunters.  Atticus is a pompous rich boy. Never been told no and had people fawning over him. As a resident upper east sider, he roams around like a golden pool noodle towering over anyone else who dares stand in his orbit. He’s the menace of family parties and can't be trusted not to cause drama - after all, he knows exactly where to find everyone’s skeletons lurk in the closet, he helped hide them. The grim reaper of the social scene, Atticus can make or break people and he isn’t afraid to do it if he has to. He may keep on the sidelines until it’s time to strike, but he can be the stuff of nightmares to people if he’s provoked enough as he’s inherited that infamous Bass temper. If people think Chuck is one to be watched, they haven’t seen anything until they meet the older Bass cousin. He moves silently, judges coldly and has a strong moral compass compared to his other family members. That being said, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t find himself in situations he shouldn’t be. With his cousins warning him to keep away from their close friends like Serena van der Woodsen, Ceren Çelik-Montgomery, Jessica Knightly and Isobel Prescott, but since when has a Bass or a Hunter ever listened to rules?

What Does Gossip Girl Have On Them?

Unlike his cousin, Atticus wasn’t at the centre of the original take down of Gossip Girl, he was smarter than that. However with a name like Bass there is far too many skeletons in closets to keep track of and Atticus was the key to the vault. Blackmailing his own father in a power struggle, Atticus seized control of Bass Industries Australia division and left his father face the reality of his crimes by refusing to be his attorney. Jack moved fast but Atticus was faster and it was all to protect Chuck. 

Connections

Chuck Bass - cousin and frequent point of annoyance. 

Serena van der Woodsen- Relation through Bart Bass marrying Lily van der Woodsen. Atticus quite enjoys speaking to Serena, she was a welcome surprise to conversation when he first spoke to her. 

Logan, Jake and Camille Hunter - The other cousins. He’s been strictly warned to stay away from Logan's friends (Ceren, Jessica and Isobel) but he doesn’t take much notice to rules when he doesn’t want to.

[teartra]

Alistair : my first kiss turned into a curse

Gavin : that’s rough buddy

[truedevotions]

                 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒.

according to court records, in the late november of 1559, isobel percy attended the goddess pageant as the infamous helen of troy, the most beautiful woman in the world. her dress had been inspired by once real grecian fashion, consisting of the traditional peplos and cloak made of swan-white silk embellished with golden thread and flower emblems. her most noticeable feature on that evening had, undoubtedly, been her long hair, the cascade of dark curls that had enveloped her like a cloak— a stark contrast to the fair-haired image of helen. during the beginning of the ceremony, isobel wore a translucent veil that had changed in the light, presumably made of dhaka muslin that was still at the time largely unfamiliar to the english court. later historical facts show that isobel had always been a fashion pioneer, introducing new textiles and designs to england. she was also amongst the last women to perform and had sung only one song, offering the attendants her voice instead of a dance. her veil, during the aforementioned performance, was swept aside and replaced by a golden laurel. there was one thing in particular, however, that had captured the attention of the courtiers from certain angles. isobel wore an emerald necklace, grand in size, wrapped just above her right ankle. only the necklace has survived to the present day and most likely later on belonged to her daughter grace. it's currently being kept in the tower of london.

the resemblance between isobel and the mythical helen hid in their perpetually ambiguous personas. the burden of beauty, the struggle to be seen and not only looked at, and the contradictory interpretations of both women, had only enhanced the painful resemblance. still, the myth of both helen and isobel lives on. 

                             “sweet helen, make me immortal with a kiss. ”

[author-a-holmes]

Fantasy Indies April

1st | 2nd | 3rd | 4th | 5th | 6th | 7th | 8th | 9th | 10th | 11th | 12th | 13th | 14th | 15th | 16th | 17th | 18th | 19th | 20th | 21st | 22nd | 23rd | 24th | 25th | 26th | 27th | 28th | 29th | 30th

Stumbled over a prompt list for Fantasy Indies on Instagram, so I thought it'd be fun to take part in the list of April's prompts and questions...

April 3rd - Fantasy Indies April

What Books Have Inspired your Writing?

So many. Too many!!

Specifically for The Fey Touched Trilogy, I could name a handful...

The Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer; Missing parents and faeries.

The Vampire Academy series by Richelle Meade; Vampires, schools, And evil subspecies of vampire.

The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis; Found family, portal fantasy, and multiple realms and societies.

But in general terms? Every book I’ve ever picked up and read has added to my repertoir and inspired my writing. Even books I may not have liked have taught me something. Maybe it was what not to do, but I still learned from them.

So many books have inspired me to write. Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien, Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris, Obernewtyn Chronicles by Isobel Carmody, Crystal Singers series by Anne McCaffrey. The Abhorsen Books by Garth Nix. There’s no way I can list them all.

(Promptlist for the rest of April can be found beneath the ReadMore)

Hey there!

Do you like the sound of my projects? Feel like supporting me so I can write some more?

Check out my debut fantasy novel ‘Changeling’.

It’s available in Ebook at all your favourite online retailers, and in Paperback, and Hardcover from Amazon.

https://books2read.com/Fey-Touched-Changeling

Would you like to read more of my writing for free?

You can grab the prequel novella to Changeling, “Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail?” by signing up for my newsletter.

http://subscribepage.io/y7a9w8

I also send out Flash Fiction pieces exclusive to my newsletter subscribers, and you’ll be the first to hear about sale prices, cover reveals and blurbs for all my future book releases.

[korrolrezni]

Aww, I am glad for the Gays! Even though Aylin is being nasty <3

[jeanstapleton]

ketheric transmasc theory

[revyved]

@nightdame said: " by your side is where I'm meant to be.

mayhaps it’s a selfish thing, the crucial intensity in which she feels exactly the same. like a moth to a brilliant flame, warm and centered in aylin’s ever-present light. the corners of her lips quirk into a smile, currently knelt beside selune’s chosen sword after another round of healing. even now, with relief filling her once-still heart, she worries immensely for her love.

“ you have always spoken the sweetest words to me. " isobel murmurs, her hand settling over her wrist. aylin likely sees the concern eating away at the cleric, consistently wearing her heart on her sleeve - especially so once realizing ketheric lied about what happened. gentle fingers reach to brush aylin’s hair from her face, absently fussing. “ you still require rest and recovery, no matter your insistence to continue this battle. for that i must acquire more supplies, and you need not burden yourself coming with me. “

[godsaveforum]

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Isobel Thorm, icon, godsend, hero, absolute titan, determined to carry the hurt/comfort genre on her STR 12 shoulders. I adore her.

Of course, the catch is that she herself has also Been Through The Horrors but chooses not to acknowledge this in favour of adamantly insisting on being the caretaker (which she is obviously very good at, like... professionally, as a cleric and healer).

And even more than that, caretaker to a person who is a big nigh-unkillable (but very significantly not, as Isobel herself points out, unharmable!) radiant wall of muscle and holy fury so used to being a champion and protector herself, extremely keen to dismiss her own issues as a bit of "paladin's fatigue" and "flights of fancy" and who is on so many levels, some very fundamental to her being, tied into being A Sword.

I guess my point is... fic writer comrades-in-arms, this is what we call a goldmine.

[blackjackkent]

Letter prompts - any or all!

Minsc to Hector

Lae'zel to Gale

Rion to Karlach

Shadowheart to Isobel and Aylin

Nine Fingers to Jaheira

(Letter fic prompts!)

TY as always for the prompts, friend! <3 Sorry it took a bit to get them done, but I did all of them bc I loved the ideas so much. XD

-----

(Minsc to Hector - a note scribbled on a crumpled piece of parchment with one corner slightly chewed off. Left on Hector's bedside table in the Elfsong, three hours before dawn on the cold, rainy morning before the battle with the Netherbrain.)

My friend! 

Do not fear to find Minsc’s bunk empty when you wake; know that I have gone ahead to clear the path! The sewers that stand between us and our wrinkly foe are well known to Minsc and Boo, and we shall see to it that they are well-scrubbed of evil that might hinder us in our final journey. A fine tale it would make for us to travel towards a battle for the world's fate and be delayed by a passing bandit!

Should we have no further time to speak before all is chaos, Boo wishes you to know you have been a fine companion, a hero to rank high among all those he has traveled with. And Minsc would say the same, though Minsc does not juggle words with Boo’s skill. 

Boo and I have traveled across many years in an instant, and much has changed. We did not think to find a company with which we could feel heroes again, not least after Minsc was made a puppet of the Absolute’s worm.  With Jaheira, with you, Minsc has remembered what it is to be alive, to fight for goodness, and this city's every shadow trembles to know it. 

Though evil brings the brain, Hector and his friends shall bring the brawn! And Minsc is proud to be among them!

(signed with the letter M and a very small pawprint in ink)

-----

(Lae'zel to Gale - a note carved in the spiraling gith script into a large flat rock, lacking the fine materials of true githyanki slate, written in camp deep in the Underdark.)

When you can read this, you may consider yourself a true scholar worthy of the secrets of githyanki magic. Until then, cease your inane questioning of matters far beyond your appreciation; my time is better spent in recuperation than in the education of overambitious istik.

A note is attached to the rock, written in Common in careful, precise handwriting: Ever so sorry to disappoint you, my dear sa’varsh, but my inane questioning shall continue unabated. I do, however, thank you for the opportunity to reacquaint myself with Comprehend Languages! I so rarely get a chance to turn that one out for a bit of exercise.

Below these words on the note is scribbled a considerably less meticulous tir’su spiral scrawled in ink: That is *not* what I meant, and you know it, kainyank.

-----

(Rion to Karlach - a note sent by standard post to the Elfsong, several days after the party's visit to Elerrathin's Home.)

Karlach,

You're kidding me - you're Pluck Cliffgate's kid? I carried messages for him now and again; he talked about you plenty, and I did see you once, maybe seven years old, darting all over the Wide like a little hurricane. Small world, I guess. Odd to think that I’m more or less the same and you’ve shot up to be taller than I am. Elf blood’s a funny thing.

I know you’re hoping for exciting stories about growing up with the High Harper but the truth is I don’t have much to offer. She wasn’t any kind of “heroic adventurer” to me - she was just Mother, and she never much liked to talk about the past, not even about my father. I heard more about her from bards in taverns than I ever heard from her own mouth - and some of it I wish I could scrub back out of my brain. 

You ever hear a bawdy called “The Harper’s Head”? Yeah, now imagine that was your mum they were singing about. Awful.

She was good to us, though, in her own way. I know you saw me bite her head off and her bite mine right back; that’s just how we’ve always been. But she saw to it I grew up strong, that I knew how to fight, and how to keep my head down when the time called for it. Harper things, mostly, even though I don’t think she ever wanted me to be one. 

She taught me how to take no shit, too. Her mistake, because now I don’t take hers either. But I think she’d rather that than otherwise.

After a while, the other kids just started drifting in - first for a meal here or there, then a bed, then before you knew it, this was their home. Another one in the pack. It’s strange, really. I always knew deep down - even when I was a kid who didn’t have words for it yet, just knew it was confusing and it hurt - that part of her really wanted to be back on the road, not tied down with us in this mess of a city. But somehow every time one of us moved out, she’d found another to bring in, almost like clockwork.

I think she’s been looking for something, all this time. But I don’t think she knows what it is, any more than I do, or what she’d do with it if she found it. 

Not an exciting story, like all the tales you’ve heard. But it’s truth; I can tell you that much.

It probably won’t surprise you that I haven’t had a message from her since you left. But you can tell her I’m off to the refugee camp in the morning. We’ll hold our end of things, and see they’re taken care of. Take care of that bloody brain, and maybe I’ll find a better story to tell when you’re done.

Rion

-----

(Shadowheart to Aylin (and Isobel by proxy); several conjoined messages by a series of Sending spells, dispatched from somewhere on the edge of Waterdeep) 

> Aylin… your mother's house is beautiful. I never imagined such a place. It's… foolish, perhaps, but I wanted to let you know I've seen it. 

> I still carry the spear with me. Once dark, now light. Like me. Still surprised you didn't crack us both across your knee like Lorroakan. 

> You gave me a second chance. I hadn't earned it; I wanted to kill you. The great difference between Shar and Selune. Cruelty versus mercy. 

> A lot’s happened since then. I found my parents. Shar's last joke at my expense. You were right about everything. That I had to act.

> So I'm free now. Of all of it. One day I will think of a way to repay you both for your kindness. Your wisdom. 

> I don't know what plans call you now, but should you travel near Waterdeep in the next fortnight-- OW! Yes, yes, I'll tell her, calm--

[a slight pause] 

> Please also tell Isobel that Buddy says hello. The morsels she used to slip him in camp have purchased her a permanent owlbear friend. 

-----

(Nine-Fingers to Jaheira - a note left in a dead drop at Danthelon’s in the middle of the night.)

Jaheira. You’ve GOT to call off the Rashemaar. He’s driving us all insane trying to teach us the good path; on all the gods, either I’m going to beat the hells out of him or someone else will. I don’t care what you do - take him on an adventure, lock him in the cellar, turn him into a statue again, hold the hamster for ransom. But something. Fuck’s sake.

He listens to you. Starting to think you’re the only one he does listen to. Like a pup with one master. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.

We all want the same thing - this city safe and strong. But he’s got to learn that we don’t all go about it the same way, or sooner or later there’s going to be trouble.

Astele NF

[luckloveandwaterfalls]

“I can fix him” this and “I can make him worse” that, Alistair’s love interests didn’t even consider being able to fix him (leave that to the fan club lmao) and didn’t bother trying to make him worse (skipped that step entirely). Isobel went for “I can be worse” and Gavin went for “I can see him at his worst and still see the best in him,” and they are SO valid for it

[filthy-reckless-rp]

♛ Spotted on the Upper East Side…

Name: Ceren Çelik-Montgomery Pronouns: She/Her Age: 22 years old     Hometown: Upper East Side, NY   Occupation: Artist, Model & Influencer Social Status: Insider   Faceclaim: Ayça Ayşin Turan

Who Is Ceren?

“Have you ever been so lost? Known the way and still so lost...”

Well, well, if it isn’t the missing piece of the triangle (square, really). Once an It Girl, always an It Girl and you Ceren are no except. Even out of the walls of Constance, you’re still the most popular kid at the table. You always kept your feelings close to your chest- keeping secrets from even me- so you could stay out of the drama. You’ve been known to be a little too cool, brushing off other people without giving it much thought. You may not go out of your way to hurt feelings but you’re not afraid to ghost ‘em. When people matter to you though, they really matter. You give your whole heart over, become the fierce protector and shoulder to cry on when needed. I know it’s been hard trying to keep the group together but things are finally looking up now, right? Hope I don’t re-burn any bridges for you, Ceren but I’m not making any promises. XOXO ---Gossip Girl

A Little Extra

Born into generational wealth had Ceren living the life of bliss. Life was easy when you had Ece Çelik (a Turkish model and socialite) and Walter Montgomery (an oil tycoon) as parents. Walter is her stepfather through marriage to her mother, but Ceren sees him as nothing less than her father. He gave her the most amazing childhood, adores her mother and has created a strong family unit both socially and economically - what more could she ask for? From the moment Ceren was born, her mother swore that God had blessed their family with pure perfection, and perfection was what Ceren strived for. She would accept nothing less. With overburdening pressure from her parents, she aimed to be nothing but the best. Not a hair out of place, not a stitch loose on her clothing and a walk to rival those on the runway, Ceren was a force to be reckoned with; and yet, no matter how perfect she is, it’s never enough. She places obscene amounts of pressure on herself, but pressure makes diamonds as they say. Throughout her time in education, Ceren was top of the scoreboard and graduated with honors, though she surprisingly found fame in the art world with her artwork.

Carrying the burden of pressure, Ceren gets in her own head and it’s tough to get herself out of that spiral once she falls in it. She’s not someone that tends to open up to people whether she’s struggling or not, preferring to keep to herself in the world of the inner circle of New Yorks elite. However, once you manage to find and in with her, she will go to the ends of the earth for you. Ceren is fiercely protective of her love ones and her ‘found family’ as she dubs her nearest and dearest friends who she trusts with her life. That being said, she pours so much love towards her friends that she feels like she has no time for relationships. That’s the excuse she tells herself anyway. The reality is that her standards are so high that no one ever reaches them. Its a form of self-preservation. She knows this. She’ll dabble in a little flirting here and there, but she gets bored and relationships are a no go, letting someone in means they can hurt you, and that’s less than perfect. Focusing on friends helps curb the looming loneliness, but that sometimes means having to meet new people and that’s not Ceren’s vibe. She despises idle chit-chat and small talk, she finds it a waste of time and she has no patience for it. She doesn’t suffer fools lightly and will make it known if you’re grating on her nerves, public setting or not. Underneath the hard exterior is someone soft that wants to be loved and loved for who she is, she just struggles to see it for herself. But that’s something she’ll never tell.

What Does Gossip Girl Have On Them?

In her determination to be perfect, Ceren got a nasty little drug habit of pills and other substances that helped her stay awake and high alert to allow her to study and work on extra credit projects when she was in school. She hasn’t shaken the habit, for a woman on the go 24/7, she needs constant energy and she’d rather be doing this than fall from grace in the eyes of people watching her. When she was dating Jackson he had found out about the pills, it was part of the reason of their split whether Ceren admits it or not. She’s thankful that he’s kept this to himself, the last thing she needs is for GG to get her paws on the information.

Connections

Jessica Knightly, Isobel Prescott and Logan Hunter - the found family, the very best friends, the hottest and most iconic quadruplet on the Upper East Side. These are Ceren’s people and she’d do anything for them! She’s so glad that things have finally gotten better for them. Ceren knows that Isobel lying to the group to cover up what she did to Jess (sleeping with her then boyfriend) was a mess but now they’re finally starting to heal. To become an ‘us’ again. And at the end of the day, Ceren loves Is. And she loves Jess. She wants all of her besties to be happy. Logan and Isobel are even #together now, you know? Everyone is moving on and up. She just hopes so badly it will last.

Jackson Cohan - Sweet, sweet Jackson. Even ‘Gossip Girl’ didn’t catch wind of this whirlwind romance that happened between these two back in their high school days. Jackson was a part of the ‘inner circle’, their paths crossed all the times and well, who didn’t like Jackson? It ended amicably, they’re still friends. She still has a soft spot for him.

Oliver Andrews and William Huntzberger - demons. Remember that protective side of Ceren? Well, no one brings it out like the bad boyfriends and hook ups of her BFFs. Oliver was Jess’ high school sweetie until the whole mess with Isobel. And sure, we’re moving on, it’s in the past but in Cer’s book, his name is still in red underlined. William Huntzberger is big, red, ‘Do Not Trust’ flag and she so does not appreciate him being in and around their group.

Carter Baizen - Carter was also once a part of the ‘inner circle’ and Ceren always thought that they had fun (although, whether she’d admit that...). When Carter decided to cut himself off from his family’s money, name and the rest of it, he bailed on the Upper East Side. Ghosted everyone-- including Ceren. And you know what? It stung.  

[uhhhitsgray]

fic where astarion puts lipstick on u? ☺️ I feel like that could be super intimate

aksjdhfakdhf, anon please 😭 this is so cute, yes yes I write c:

~ wc: 2k, no warnings, this is just fluffy and cute. tav and astarion are already in a relationship. attempted to make this as gender neutral as possible, but I did throw in a few pretties (since astarion does say that in the game), a few darlings and he calls you gorgeous. astarion would call you all those things regardless of gender so I hope you're okay with that ❤ enjoy & and thank you for the prompt, this was a lot of fun!

You sigh as you look down at the metal tube in your hands defeated with the fact that you don’t think, or even know, how to properly apply lipstick. Up until arriving at Baldur’s Gate you never had the need to dress nicely. Of course your clothing choice was much more than just clothing, it was armor meant for protecting and not so much for looking good.

You had found this small shop on the outskirts of the city one evening. It didn’t cost a lot of gold, and you wanted to treat yourself. Though maybe you should have gone with something you were more familiar with instead, but you wanted to feel attractive; pretty even.

It was a peaceful evening at camp, the day hadn’t been taxing on the group luckily, just a few pesky thieves but nothing else major happened. Your tent was further away from the center of camp where the others were, you enjoyed the solitude that it provided giving your mind and body an opportunity to just breathe and relax. By the gods, you’d take that chance any time it arose. 

You had snuck away from the group while everyone was laughing and talking over the wine from the city. You so desperately wanted to try out this lipstick, but after several attempts and every pass looking worse than the previous your shoulders slumped in defeat, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You could also ask someone in camp, maybe Shadowheart or Isobel would know. You remember them both stating they’ve worn makeup before, shit, Isobel currently wears makeup. 

But admittedly you didn’t have that type of relationship with them. Of course you were fond of them, friends even, but close enough to ask for something like this? You weren’t sure you were that comfortable with them. Truth be told, you were only close with one person like that in your camp, the pale elf himself, Astarion. An odd person to ask possibly, has he ever worn makeup before – or lipstick even? You weren’t sure, but you weren’t sure if you even cared. 

He’d help you right?   

You shove the tube into your pocket, and head towards the campfire where you left him with the group. The light of the fire danced across his skin, washing warm hues across his pale skin. His rather white hair was highlighted in reds and oranges, his red irises reflecting the vermillion shades of the flames. He was laughing at something Gale was sputtering on about, a genuine smile on his face.

Truly beautiful. 

You step into the light of the fire, one arm crossed across your chest holding yourself close. Caging yourself off as if you’re too afraid to ask such a simple question from the man you adore. “Astarion.” 

Astarion’s attention is ripped away from Gale at the drop of his name, his name sounding like honey on your lips. He’d never get used to it. Warmth blossoms within his chest at the sight of you on the other side of the fire, “Yes, darling.” He smiles towards you, scooting himself over on the log he was sitting on, patting the wood for you to sit next to him. 

You smile at him, and make your way around the side of the fire, offering a small wave to the few people who were still at the campfire. You cross behind Astarion’s back, hand dragging across his shoulders. You lean down behind him, fingers dancing up the back of his neck into his hair. “Can I ask something of you, my love?” 

He leans back into your hand slightly still facing the fire as he answers. “Anything.” 

You kiss his cheek, it’s short and quick as your words mumble and stumble out of your mouth. “Can I ask you away from everyone else?” 

His body stiffens slightly, “Is everything okay?” Astarion turns towards you, his tone shifts in his question. Worry, and something similar to dread fills his eyes as he looks into yours. “Did… did I do something?” 

You offer him a soft smile, “Everything is fine.” You cup his cheek in the palm of your hand, thumb brushing across his fire warmed skin. “You didn’t do anything.” 

He swallows down the worry and dread as he leans into your palm. Astarion nods up at you, “Okay, darling. Where do you want to go?” 

You look past the fire in the direction of your tent, “Is my tent okay?” 

Astarion nods, standing up next to you. “Lead the way.” 

The fact that you wanted to ask Astarion to put lipstick on you was plaguing your mind. You were sure you were making this a bigger deal than it really was, it wasn’t that big of a deal to begin with. But by the gods, your mind was telling you that it was the absolutely worst thing that you could ask of this man. 

You slowly lead him back to your tent, your hand in his. The warmth of the fire still lingering on his skin, the cool evening breeze bringing a yin and yang sensation. “Now, darling, I’m dying to know what you wanted to ask.” 

You were second guessing yourself as you pulled the front of your tent open and allowed him and yourself to walk in. You take a deep breath, “I… I — uh.” You shake your head and take a few steps further into your tent. 

Astarion squeezes your hand, “You can ask me anything, you know that.” 

You sigh, letting go of his hand as you drag your fingers through your hair. “I know.” You look at him, the crimson irises carefully watching you. You start pacing the length of your tent. It’s not big by any means, just enough room for your bed roll, a small table and stool. But you were gonna pace it as much as you could, as much as the space would allow; trying as best as you could to allow your mind some room to think of the question at hand. 

“Darling.” 

You were biting your nails as you heard Astarion call for you. Your eyes search his, uncertainty lays heavy on your expression. “You can’t laugh at me, okay?” 

Astarion chuckles at that. You sweet, precious thing of his, he could never. “I wouldn’t dare laugh at you like that.”  

You nod, looking at the floor again. “So I uh – I bought something in the city the other day and I need help putting it on.” 

He raises an eyebrow to you, crossing his arms at his chest. “And what did you buy?” 

You stuff your hand into your pocket and pull out the metal tube, palm side up showing Astarion. Your eyes burn holes into your palm, embarrassment flushes your cheeks red. How stupid is this. 

You hear Astarion stepping forward, into your space. “Lipstick?” 

Your eyes dare to look at him, too scared to see the expression he has on his face. “Yeah, I don’t know how to properly apply it. I was trying earlier, but it kept looking all wrong and bad and Astarion, I just wanted to look pretty.” Your words come out of your mouth a little too quick, not giving your brain enough time to process before speaking. 

Astarion cups your cheek this time, a playful tone to his soft voice. “Oh darling,” He leans in and kisses your forehead. “You are always beautiful.” 

Your arms cross, pouting. “But I wanted to feel pretty.” Your eyes darted up to him for a second before they found the floor, “Wanted to be pretty for you.” 

“There isn’t a day where I don’t think you’re the most stunning person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He grabs the metal tube from your hand. “But I can put this on for you, if you so wish.” 

You smile at him, “Please.” 

He nods towards your stool, silently asking you to sit down. Your feet take you to the stool and you sit yourself down as Astarion opens the lid, a smile spreads on his face as he sees the color you purchased. It’s nothing flashy, a more mutual tone. Probably to not draw too much attention to yourself if he was to guess. “This color will look so pretty on those lips of yours.” 

“You think so?” 

Astarion steps in between your legs. One hand holds your chin, urging your head upwards so he can see you better. The other hand holds the lipstick carefully, twisted up just enough to be easily applied to your lips. “I know so.” 

Your hands land on the outside of his thighs, just holding his pants as you carefully watch him. His eyes flit to yours and linger for a second longer. “Don’t look at me like that, darling.” 

You smile at him, teasing, “Like what?” 

“Like you want to kiss me.” Crimson eyes drift down to your lips. 

“I always want to kiss you. Always want your lips on me, want them everywhere –.” 

Astarion squeezes your chin, “Behave yourself, sweetheart.” 

You giggle, smiling at him sweetly. “I always behave for you.” 

He cocks an eyebrow to you, a smile plays across his face, fangs exposed slightly in the light of your tent. “I would have to disagree.” His hand moves in slowly, carefully, as he presses the lipstick to your lips. Your eyes are locked onto his, though he isn’t looking at you anymore, you can’t help but just watch him in concentration. Trying his best, giving his best to you. 

He smiles as he pulls the lipstick away from your lips. “Gorgeous. This color suits you, darling.” He grabs your small mirror off the table next to you, flipping the mirror around for yourself to see. 

Your eyes widen at how well it’s applied, like he’s done it a million times. You move the mirror around better to see his work. Astarion was right, the color does suit your skin tone just perfectly. “Thank you Astarion. I – wow. Just how are you so skilled?” 

“Oh,” His eyes fall to the floor, you see his body freeze beyond your mirror as dread fills the pit of your stomach. 

Shit. 

You put the mirror face down on the table, standing quickly as horror washes over your face. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

Astarion shakes his head, and continues anyway. “I used to wear it to lure victims back to Cazador.” His voice is low, hurt as the words are hushed out. 

“I… I didn’t know that, I’m sorry for asking this of you.” 

“I didn’t expect you to, I’ve never told you that.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“You didn’t have to.” Your nail digs into the palm of your hand, you feel horrible for asking such a thing. If you knew you would have never asked. 

Astarion’s hand reaches out for yours, fingers intertwined with yours. “I’d do anything for you, my love. It was in the past, the future will be better. Even the now is better.” 

You smile at him, "And I'd do anything for you. One day at a time, my love." You giggle, pressing up on your tiptoes as you kiss his cheek. You grin at the mark the lipstick left on his cheek. He laughs knowing you've left a mark on his cheek. "I love you, thank you Astarion." You kiss his lips soft and delicate, sure to be careful not to mess up his work. 

"I love you too, gorgeous. Shall we show our friends?" He takes your hand as the other opens your tent up, awaiting for you to follow him. 

You smile, “What about the mark on your cheek, you want to wipe it off before we go?”

Astarion laughs as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you close. “I’d wear any mark from you proudly, I’ll leave it.” His hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. It’s warm, soft and caring; you’ll never get used to it. Or him for that matter. 

Your thumb brushes across his cheek, as you pull away from the kiss. You smile as his lips are slightly tinted the shade of your lipstick. “Alright, let’s go then.”