#from ，carcosa .

[petit-etoile]

in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

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‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends  —  He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink  —  ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m  —  Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are  —  Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you  —  to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone  —  ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion  —  ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can  —  ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest  —  yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but  —  I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

[my-craft]

The King of Carcosa.

Line only version! I think his halo got a little drowned out, you can see it much better in this version

[ibrithir-was-here]

All the Eldritch Monster High Kids together: Helen Vaughn, Wilber Whateley, and Marigold

@see-arcane , thank you again for the wonderful idea of Marigold, “Mean Girl-ing” these three, and the ichor line xD

[drowningparty]

I wasn’t pulled out to be stuck in some mortal flesh or against my will, I slipped out of that prison. And now, I am able to play all the keys. It made me… special. In a way, I’m like you, Artie! An anomaly!

Malevolent, Intermezzo.

[samuelroukin]

RAY 'DOC' MOROVA

medic with a penchant for reckless endangerment. likes killing more than saving lives. he's good at both. asshole, but useful when he wants to be.

"christ, that guy's a right cunt." "aye, but he's our cunt."

template

[versegm]

“Cahors…” I reach out, set my hand on their elbow. Squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Their tail lies flat on the ground. Defeated. “I’m… I’m the last one, Neha.” Their voice breaks on my name. “These sights, our stories, our cultures… the only things that survived are what I carry in my memory. And when I die, it will all die with me.”

They turn to me again, voice dripping with rain. "If there is no one to witness this, if there is no one to remember it. Isn't it as if it had never existed?"

… No. No, that can’t be right.

"It doesn't mean it didn't matter.” I deny. “It doesn't mean it cannot matter.” I slide my hand down, my fingers between theirs. “You and me, together.” I struggle with words. Thoughts pile up in my head, too many, too fast, for me to process. I need them to understand. I need them to understand. “You said we were witnesses. Carcosa is as much a part of Cahors as Cahors is a part of Carcosa. Even if it’s only just a little, what you pass on to me, I pass it to my world. Stories or sayings and whatever- even if it’s just a little.”

I look up to the sky. “These stars have a longer reach than this world.”

The one from Carcosa, from Horny Tales of Horned People, Verse Atoui

[coffeewritesfiction]

Oh boy! The OC recipe game finally reached me! Now I have an excuse to do some research on food in the early half of the 20th century!

... Most of it will be done tomorrow though, because I am exhausted from all the shit I had to do today. 😅 Alas, food is one of my favorite subjects so it'll be hard to choose...

[pallid-mask-element]

OOC

Ninth EPPRBCU blog woooooooo. Blog ran by @john-tendrils-exclam-the-eighth, again. The Pallid Mask is called The Stranger, and they use any pronouns.

TAGS

The shadows lengthen in Carcosa: Interaction tag

But stranger still is lost Carcosa: Lore tag

Must die unheard in dim Carcosa: Ask tag

Shall dry and die in lost Carcosa: Shitpost tag

DESCRIPTION

The Stranger wears a large yellow robe, that seems to be made of yellow parchment. It has strips coming off that end in blue. His hands and feet are visible, appearing to wear some kind of golden scaled armour. Their face is obscured by a white ceramic mask, with gold streaks covering it. Galaxies can be seen beneath the eyeholes. She stands at exactly eight foot five and wields a large scythe with a golden blade and stone handle.

The Visitor From Carcosa

The Visitor From Carcosa wears a yellow business suit, with a black tie. He wears a masquerade mask that appears to be made of gold.

His skin appears to be made of old slightly yellow parchment, with all his features expertly drawn on.

Uses he/him.

[lovecrafts-worst-nightmare]

Reports of a strange creature living in the canals are being sent in from Six Towers. According to local Gondoliers, it appears to be 3 distinct species of fish coiled together. The Dimmer Sisters offer a high reward to any who can bring them this elusive specimen.

-More on page 12.-

A creature from the Blades In The Dark game I’m playing! She is by far my best drawing yet, and also the first one I feel comfortable uploading online!

[simmaster]

hold on. wait a second. i just think that maybe

[petit-etoile]

Congrats on the 200 Followers man! Here's my drabble for ya, go nuts on what you wanna write from this; “Kiss me and/or shut up.”

your  heart understood  mine

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount:  919 content warnings: ne.il new.bon said something about little astarions once & now i have Thoughts other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils, be added to the taglist here

summary: 'When am I happiest?' / 'When I'm looking at you.'

‘So,’ Astarion says casually, staring at his nails. ‘What do you think the answers truly are?’

‘The answers to what?’ you ask.

‘Don’t play coy,’ he says. ‘The little…love test. I was rather pleased you didn’t expose me in front of a stranger, but now I’m curious.’

You remember Zethino now. You take a moment to glance at him, though your hands are still busy sewing away at a tear in your armor. Astarion is watching you while wearing a guarded half-smile, neither interested in his nails nor in your messy stitches. Your cheeks heat up and you look back down at your uneven handiwork. Your throat tightens a little.

When you had asked him if he had wanted to participate with you, you thought Astarion would reject it. It seemed silly, so out of element for the both of you that the thought of him genuinely agreeing never crossed your mind. Yet now he questions you about it, questions you about your answers, and you feel more nervous now than you had when Zethino called you stira. Astarion takes your armor from you and begins patching it himself, fed up with your clumsy stitches.

‘The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous,’ Astarion recites sarcastically. ‘When is he happiest, my love?’

‘I don’t think you’ve ever been happy,’ you say quietly.

He hums. ‘Well, that’s mostly the correct answer,’ he says. ‘But you’re missing something. I know you can guess it if you really put your mind to it.’

‘You’re happiest with me,’ you say bravely.

You look him deep in his eyes, holding your breath. He laughs and nods, chuckling to himself while he tries to salvage a piece of leather. You think he might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell with how pale he is.

‘Many things delight the heart,’ Astarion continues, mimicking her monotonous timbre. ‘Only one makes it sing! Tell me, my sweet, what does he desire more than anything.’

Revenge. You had told the dryad he wanted revenge, but didn’t go into detail, not in front of someone unfamiliar. You watch as he untangles the thread, his hair soft and elegant, his hands assured and practiced. There lives a colony of butterflies in your chest. Your heart is beating so loud you’re certain he can hear it.

‘A life with me,’ you say.

‘You,’ he agrees.

‘A gaggle of little Astarions trailing around,’ you add.

Astarion looks up sharply, his mouth hanging open slightly. You press your lips together immediately and try to think of an apology but there’s something beneath his careful façade. You were right. You realize it now. You press a hand to your chest as if to stop your heart from pounding. Astarion wants a family, and he wants you, and even beneath that desire for revenge and for strength, once he succeeds then all he wants is you. He looks back down at your clothes in his lap and laughs shyly. You think you might faint.

‘The last, um, question,’ you stutter. You realize your palms are sweaty and blush.

‘Fear sits in the soul of all,’ Astarion says finally, voice soft. ‘To tame it, we must name it. What is his deepest fear?’

This time, you feel as though the answer isn’t so easy. Beneath the fear of Cazador and the fear of the mindflayers, there is something else brewing. You’re afraid to even mention it, but he’s curious and genuine. You slide closer to him and pull part of your armor into your lap so that you share the burden. He presses his nose to your temple and you distract yourself by touching the part of your armor he’s managed to save from your haphazard repairing.

‘You’re afraid of never breaking the cycle,’ you say carefully. You bite your bottom lip. ‘You’re worried that after all this rage, there’s no relief.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion says.

There is little to no heat in it. You shake your head.

‘You’re afraid the you before Cazador is no longer there,’ you say. ‘And you’re afraid that because I am human, that there’s a ghost of you that comes after me.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion insists.

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. You turn to meet his lips.

Astarion presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You cherish it no matter how fleeting the kiss is. The silence, the quiet sorrow. It’s almost worth it for how he gently presses kisses against your temple and into your hair. He will never confess that what you said is true, and you’re almost thankful.

‘My turn,’ you say, clearing your throat. ‘When am I happiest?’

‘When I’m looking at you,’ Astarion says without hesitation.

‘O  — Oh.’

‘You desire a lifetime with me,’ he says with a practiced blasé shrug. ‘And little Astarions of course.’

You flush. ‘Shut up.’

‘And,’ he adds, ‘you’re deathly afraid of spiders.’

He laughs and kisses you again, and you wish you could bottle up the sound in a music box to play it back when you’re feeling lonely. You know what Zethino meant now when she said your bond beat with pleasure. You blossom beneath his careful musings.

‘See? We’re close as can be,’ Astarion murmurs. He rests his chin on your shoulder and brushes his thumb against your thigh. ‘But darling, if we’re going to have a lifetime together, we really must work on your stitching.’

‘Only if you’ll teach me,’ you say.

‘Oh, I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had,’ Astarion agrees.

[badbawz]

It's a shame that the one song virus syndicate is featured in is also my least favorite song off the death wish ep. But u kno. Can't have everything.

[kirnet]

what if Dora Lange haunted Rust Cohle?

True Detective Original Scripts //True Detective (2014) // An Inhabitant of Carcosa, Ambrose Bierce // Disco Elysium (2019) // The King in Yellow, Robert W. Chambers // Excerpts from "Duned", Natalie Diaz // Earthmover, Have a Nice Life // Ptolemaea, Ethel Cain // Medicine, Gustav Klimt (destroyed 1945) // my art

[versegm]

Yooo how about Director's Cut on The One from Carcossa? Give me the downlow on awkward shadow roommate and hand licking lol

I SWEAR I DIDN'T REALIZE I WROTE SO MUCH HAND LICKING

God. This might get kinda long, lemme add a readmore right away.

As you can guess from the title, I wrote this after going insane over The King In Yellow for a couple weeks or so. Unfortunately I have since actually read the king in yellow and they're not nearly as good as the five wikipedia pages I dived through made it sound, but it was still a very fun time to write.

It was also very much inspired by the general concept of "the monster under your bed." You guys have that too right? Like, children's urban legends or whatever?

It's also a pretty old story, I think I wrote it in 2020-ish? But I think it still hold up well.

The monster in the story is named Cahors, which is the name of a french town. I picked that name because the King In Yellow has a running theme of characters with names starting in Ca- (Cassilda, Camilla) and I wanted to keep it going. The human is named Neha, after a friend I had at the time I wrote that story (Neha, if you're reading this somehow, hi! Hope you're doing well! :D) Neha also has a blink and you'll miss it cameo in May The Moon Shine Upon Camlann, as a treat. To myself.

Carcosa's writing system is based on qipus btw.

About ten years ago or so I followed writingprompt dot tumblr dot com, and one of the prompt was thus: the apocalypse happens, you are the last survivor, and one day you find a message that reads "last one up turns off the light," with no other purpose to your life, you decide to do that. For some reason, it struck me.

I don't actually remember for sure, but I think my reasoning behind that bit was to showcase why Cahors affectionates post-apoc stories specifically. It's their way to cope with the fact that their world ended.

Ok so this story was originally meant to be erotica, and this would be the big sexy showdown, but I found it flowed better without the sex. This is actually a recurring issue with my writing when I set off to write porn. It is unfortunate.

LOOK I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU. THAT WAS THE FATEST WAY I COULD THINK OF TO LINK INTIMACY, TRUST, AND REALLY HAMMER HOME THAT CAHORS DOES NOT LOOK OR FEEL HUMAN.

Very largely inspired by this piece of art that lives rent-free in my head.

I'm just really proud of this bit :)

I really wanted to do a callback to that one other scene in the middle of the story. I'm glad I pulled it off!

The story initially had another line about Cahors using their mask to extinguish the lights, but multiple people told me they thought it was confusing, so I removed it. It works better this way I think.

And there you go! Mostly it was me fucking around with worldbuilding and monster biology as you can guess.

[mcyt-builds-contest]

Pandora's Vault

Builder : Awesamdude

Series : DSMP

Propaganda :

- its so big. Its so so big. Look at a map of the dsmp. Its just a black void bigger than l'manburg was.

- You look at it and you just know it's something terrible. the obsidian walls, lava, the iron. It's just there. In the middle of the ocean. It does not fit in and its scary.

- the AMOUNT of redstone and functions it go is AMAZING. the only way to enter is through a portal that then leads u to the nether and has to be manually activated again by the warden. So to enter you literally NEED the wardens permission. All the bridges and all the door. It's so fucking cool man what can I say. The amount of security.

- the lore that happened inside pandora as well. Pandoras arc was the best arc of the whole of dream smp and I stand by that. There is so so much to unpack.

Sam and Dream could have just built some shitty obsidian box and called it a prison, but no they made PANDORAS VAULT

The Everdusk Castle

Builder : ToAsgaard

Series : ATM Spellbound Series

Porpaganda : this place is built in another dimension (the Everdusk), it's gigantic (extends about 50ish blocks further down past where i was able to grab a good screencap), and it's fully detailed inside. not in like a "some stuff here and there" or "there are redstone machines" -- every single room is detailed out, often with visuals corresponding to the mod being used, any automated setups are given a ton of visual flair to fit with the theme of the base, there's even automation setups that serve as visual rooms (the Botania automation room uses Kekimuras and is set up as a banquet hall! it's so cool!!). i think about it constantly. ToAsgaard's builds are consistently drop-dead gorgeous (his soulsborne-inspired Celestial Journey/Betweenlands base and gigantic multi-piece Sevtech Ages base are both fantastic) with ridiculously intricate detailing and really cool modded automation setups. his Celestial Journey base, Carcosa was a close second for me -- but its power lies in all that detailing and isn't nearly as screencappable from the outside. Asgaard's an amazing builder both on the megabase and microdetail levels, incredible at standard modded automation and at doing things the fun way. he's been inactive for a few years now but i still adore his stuff, and this seemed like a good way to show off an absolutely spectacular builder that otherwise people might not know about.

Taglist!

@10piecechickenmcnugget

@choliosus

@biro-slay

@betweenlands

@xdsvoid

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Cthulhu AU] A couple of doodles from session two, which UNSETTLED SAMMY A LOT ACTUALLY...

There have been small changes, throughout New York -- doors opening on the wrong side of the street, houses ending up just a block away from where you remembered them -- but the only people who can even tell seem to be those who remember Carcosa. Joey, Sammy, Henry, Jack, Peter, and Norman all experienced the strange shifting realm when a Mardi Gras party attempted to bring dread Carcosa to New Orleans, but Susie wasn't there. She can't see the changes we see, and the entire rest of the city agrees with her. That door was always there? The car was always that colour. That's where I remember the address being before, and there's no record it was ever different.

She trusts what the boys are reporting must be true, that maybe there are changes she can't see or remember, and both she and Sammy are terrified. These are only little things, but as more and more of the city slips into the world of the King in Yellow, what else might be rewritten...?

Anyway EVERYONE'S HAVING A GREAT TIME. If you're here for Out Of Context Quotes from our session, I have some of those too, here, under the cut!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] I love how detective Pete is for a guy who is NOT a detective. [Sammy] He just got assigned that by Joey Drew and now it's true. [Joey] Exactly! That's how it works.

[Sammy] The idea of JDS having its own employed detective is really funny to me. "Why do you need that? You're an animation studio." "Well, you know, things come up,"

[GM] Everybody went home I believe, except Joey went to the Studio, which is like home,

[Sammy] Do we have any plan, other than just go in to work, [Jack] I though you were gonna say "other than go insane"...

[Joey] If Prophet's not the one going for the ink, then why is Sammy going for it?! Do they have a SECOND prophet situation??? [Jack] PROPHET...... TWO!!! [Henry] Prophet 2: Electric Boogaloo [Sammy] *tiredly* We don't need any more Prophets..... We don't need any more Sammys..... we have enough.....

[Jack] You just need to sip some ink and tell them it's the wrong number. Like, you've got the wrong guy. [Henry] New stone, who dis?

[Sammy] It was the false king who called through the ink, not our Lord! [Joey] Interesting... [Joey] Joey's going to ask Bendy if he can... feel this? Is he getting calls? *dad voice* Is someone calling you? Don't put your number on the internet!

[GM] Bendy says he wasn't made to be a receiver the same way Sammy was. [Jack] So technically, it's "New Sam, who dis"!

[Joey] Okay, Joey's going to note this all down in his... Notebook Of Nonsense That Plagues Them,

[GM] I'm choosing to believe that whenever Norman called in, he gave some sort of outlandish excuse, and whoever answered the phone didn't... write it down... [Sammy] Like the heckin', grian excuses-- [Joey] "I'm cutting my grass, with scissors" [Jack] Yeah!! He's cutting his grass! With scissors! In winter!!! [Sammy] And then Sammy's like "Do we know why he called out?" and the receptionist is just like "No We Have NO Idea" [Jack] With the most tired sigh. Second only to Grant.

[GM] Fun fact, Norman would answer the phone. [Sammy] Norman actually was just like, "ohhhhhhh i know THIS is some supernatural bullshit happening, I'm gonna stay home"

[Joey] Joey's going to ask Estelle if he looked like-- and give a vague description of Avedon. [GM] .............................. [GM] She is SO impressed that you knew this. [Joey] *delighted cackling*

[Jack] I love how cute Joey is about this kid. Just like... the cool Bendy Uncle! He's not related at all, but, [Joey] I feel like this is kind of how Joey just gets around kids? Maybe Joey does really want kids, just, y'know, doesn't know how to do it when gay? [Sammy] Obviously that won't happen, so-- [Joey] Yeah, [Sammy] --so then you START AN ANIMATION STUDIO, that's the only other option! [GM] Yeah, then all kids are your kids!

[GM] Alright, you've made many phone calls. [Joey] Yeah, [GM] And you only rudely hung up on one of them!

[Sammy] Sammy can surely track that down; he's used to digging up musicians. [Jack] Jack's there to assist with the Talking to People in a way that makes them want to cooperate with you, and not run in fear!

[GM, speaking for Peter] *lists all of the information Peter's dug up* And that's about what he managed to get, today! [Joey] And nothing weird has been happening... to him? [GM] WELL, OKAY. ABOUT THAT,

[Peter] Could you describe again, the strange person who was at the party? What was that guy like? [Joey] *thinking very hard* Which... strange person...? I mean... Denis was there?

[Norman] Try not to fall in a swamp this time. [Joey] I'll let you know if I find one! [Sammy] There's fewer of those in New York, so, I think we're good. [Jack] I mean, you never know,, [Sammy] ...yeah, that's true..... [Joey] HEY, Joey will let him know if he finds one!!! [Sammy] If LAKE PONCHARTRAIN opens up in the MIDDLE OF NEW YORK CITY, that will certainly be something to let all of our friends know!

[GM] Make a social-type checks to have a word with them beforehand! [Sammy] I don't know, if I should do that,,, [GM] SAMMY can make an Appearance check! [Sammy] *laughing* LETS SEE IF IM HANDSOME ENOUGH to get let in!

[GM] Everybody's like "You guys!" You're greeted with nostalgia, and eagerness! and people are trying to small talk you, I'm guessing Sammy's not going for that. [Sammy] I mean, you can try to small talk.... AT him... [Sammy] He doesn't... y'know... it's like playing a game of catch where you throw the ball to somebody, and they just hold the ball. [Sammy] Like.... okay! [GM] I did the thing! [Sammy] Cool, catch successful. [Jack] No give, only throw!

[Sammy] Look, I was trying to drink ink this morning, so I feel like this is a step up.

[Sammy] Sammy will enjoy it! We should do this more often! [Sammy] "We should do this more often" says man who will always be too busy to do this more often,

[GM] They're impressed that, at a job where there was a gunshot right in front of the stage, the thing you want to ask about is where they sourced their music. [Sammy] I LOVE that Sammy's reputation is such that this makes perfect sense to them.

[GM] His name is Alan Leroy. [Sammy] Okay, Leroy works, because then I'll remember it, because of Leroy Jenkins. [GM] This is what's been going through my head the entire time, too...

[GM] They say he's a crazy-talented musician who blew into town a year or two ago? He's really nice and easy to get along with, and when he really gets going he can make sounds come out of his instrument like you've never heard! [Sammy] These... are all.. compliments that would be really impressive except that they can all be interpreted in really concerning ways.......

[GM] If Jack wants to look harder, he can.......... [Jack] I'm doing it, Jack can make little a bad decision! He hasn't made any yet this season!! [Jack] *rolls* That's an extreme success. How much sanity do I lose!!

[Henry] We're ghost hunters. The, the pale guy is a ghost, we're goin' after him. Ghost hunters. [Henry] ...This is why you don't let Henry lead the conversation!!

[Jack] It's occurring to me that we don't know if this guy is alive??? [Joey] YUP! This is a good time to find out! [Henry] Fun! [GM] When have you EVER gone up to somebody's house and found them dead inside? [Jack] Jack hasn't yet... [Henry] The very first scenario! [Sammy] Yeah it was a pretty bad situation as I recall, we were briefly accused of being involved! [Jack] Maybe you guys. Jack's different, though.

[Joey] We wanted to make sure he was doing alright. .....does that need a Fast Talk roll? [GM] Yeah, I was about to say-- [Joey] *rolls* *STARTS CACKLING* [GM] What did you do, do you roll a three again? [Joey] I DID ROLL A THREE! :D THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I ROLLED! [GM] I thought it was the Three Laugh!

[Henry] Henry is tired. Henry rolled a 93. [GM] Well he's out late, you know, he's a family man! He has normal hours, he hasn't been staying up late, living at the studio for the last few years! [Henry] He's regretting not accepting Joey's offer to just go home. [Joey] *muttering* See, Joey knows best!

[GM] Okay, so you guys notice, right off, that the car isn't there. [Sammy] UM. HM. [Jack] Which car did we take again? [Joey] The Mercedes... [Jack] *relieved* Okay good. [Jack] .... I MEAN, NOT GOOD, BUT...

[Joey] No, no I think it's OUR car... it's just... more yellow now... [Jack] I don't like that that means it's getting yellower... [Joey] ...........................So when do we take the sanity hit? [GM] Yeah, that would be now!

[GM] The woman says she's looking forward to when he has his own ship, and they can sail away together! [Henry] [Henry] ...I'm married,...

[Joey] Joey has his face pressed to the window-- no, he probably has the window down, it doesn't matter how cold it is -- and... CAN the window go down? Hold on. [Joey] *sounds of typing* "Car... door... window... down... history... when."

[Henry] Okay, these dice are BANNED. I rolled a 90! [Jack] What if you subtly replace the dice...? [Sammy] With slighty yellower dice!

[Joey] OKAY! There ARE rolling windows, so Joey does have the window rolled down, and he's intensely watching the colour of the car. [Joey] AND ALSO, he's STILL sitting in the middle seat, he's just going to lean over someone to do this. [Sammy] Ah. It's probably me.

[Jack] No, no, Pete and Jack can get kidnapped later and take some massive sanity damage together. ✨Cute date ideas!✨

[Joey] Joey's going to inform Norman that they're going to come over, they need additional eyes on something, [GM] Well, he's good at keeping eyes on things! [Joey] So they'll be over soon. [Sammy] I like how Norman gets a heads up, but with Peter we just show up at his apartment. [Joey] Exactly! [Jack] That's because Joey's kissed Pete. When Joey and Norman kiss then that's -- not good for Sammy, probably. [GM] At least Pete and Sammy are neutral. Non-reactive. [Sammy] Norman and Sammy are "it's complicated" on Facebook.

[Sammy] Okay, we gotta go get Linda, so Susie's not alone, [Jack] We're just playing "how many NPCs can we force Thren to play at once!" How many can we shove in the back of this car.

[Jack] Jack's gonna get home and find out his cats are different colours, [Sammy] Oh NO, [Jack] Comes back and Beans is a tortie now. [Sammy] Or Beans is just an orange cat, [Jack] Oh no! Her braincells! [GM] She needs those! She has all of them!!

[Joey] Depending on who's the affected party, Susie or them, it is actually useful to have a second, like, [Sammy] Someone to compare with? Yeah. [Henry] We don't know WHO the control group is, but ONE of us is the control group!

[Joey] As trusted as Norman is, he isn't one of Joey's... white-knuckle-clutched-keepsakes of a person,

[Sammy] *sarcastic* Okay, everyone ready to go to sleep? That's not a scary prospect right now, right? That's something that we're all really confident about doing? Cool, that's great. [Henry] Yeah, yeah, that's definitely not gonna, it's gonna go great...! [GM] Nobody's even cut their hand on a slick stone! It's fine! [Henry] NO ONE BETTER CUT THEIR HAND ON A SLICK STONE! We got enough problems!! [Joey] (Looking at you, Prophet!)

[Henry] Is Joey,,, sharing this plan with anyone? [Joey] ouo Has anyone asked him?

[Joey] Let's send Henry then! [Henry] Alright. Send Henry to Carcosa! [Sammy] *exasperated* yeah that's fine.... [Joey] It's not FULLY sending him there! It's just making a connection. [Joey] A little bridge! [Sammy] Uggghhhh... Sammy doesn't think we need any bridges to Carcosa. [Sammy] We've got enough Carcosa. [Sammy] Put some back.

[Sammy] This is what happens When You Give a Joey a Dream Spell.

[Sammy] We can't actually guarantee that New York isn't going to sink. That's not out of the question. [Jack] Is the Joey Drew specialty NOT "promising things that aren't necessarily things you can promise??"

[Henry] Actually, before Henry leaves he's going to give Joey a hug. [Joey] He doesn't get to leave. [Henry] Oh. [Joey] But Joey will take the hug!

[Henry] You know this man gives good hugs. You're getting a good Henry hug. [Jack] Gonna crunch all of Joey's terrible, very bad bones. [Henry] He's gonnna try not to crunch all of Joey's terrible bones! [Henry] But, I dunno. [Henry] Roll for damage.

[GM] The lurker knows this is serious, but he's also excited, because he has heard what a slumber party is from Henry's kids.

[GM] Now it is Friday, the 28th of December. [Sammy] Okay. Cool. Let's all make an effort to not ring in the New Year in Carcosa. That's MY New Year's Resolution: Don't Be In Carcosa.