triptanite

[triptanite]

I caught the big huge fucking sad again sorry abt it it will happen again

[triptanite]

It's all coming up Astarion.

[triptanite]

I love how in fanart Rolan always looks a little bit sad and a little bit wet

[triptanite]

Dead and undead are the same thing right

[triptanite]

Want them to be together all the time...

[triptanite]

im chewing up this image wit my teeth

By @creamytoast on twitter/X

Feral halsin is best halsin

[triptanite]

I want you to know that every time one of you likes my posts I am giving you a little kiss on the forehead

[triptanite]

oh my goooood it is so hard to stop writing when I know I've hit my limit and just have to accept that what I've written kind of sucks for the moment

things being in progress is self torture bc it's not (cool ooooooh work in progress behind the scenes sneak peek) progress, it's (using the same adjective four times in a row can't find a synonym for any verbs and a comma to period ratio of 17:1) kind of progress

BUT

in saying all of this. I have still written sometning

It sucks and it's messy and it will 100% be edited a thousand times over before release, but it's mine and I made it so I will be proud of its nasty little existence

[triptanite]

hiiiiii !!!!! hi I am so sick and ill and unwell !!!!!!!!!!

[triptanite]

I am still alive I'm just stuck in a glue trap rn so I'be got a lot on my plate

[triptanite]

Sketched out a scene ✍️

[triptanite]

IN REGARDS TO the confession scene with Astarion that I get so many questions about - here it is! The canonical re-imagining. CONTENT WARNING: Explicit language and gory descriptions. The usual durge-isms.

You are all turning in for the night with the smoky night’s sky above your heads and an unnerving quiet encroaching upon your camp. The Shadow-Cursed lands exist in a vacuum with no peskily buzzing flies, crickets or howling owls - It's just you, your footsteps, and your companions’ nervously whispering among themselves. None of you truly knows what comes now, after seeing the magnitude of what is taking place in Moonrise Towers just a few moons ago.

Shadowheart is excluded from the conversation. She sits by the fire atop her shins with wide eyes and hands clasped. Lapsed in prayer. You’ve been feeling her drift away, you’ve become aggravated by each other’s company, by her zealous resolve. This is the point where you begin to part from these people - you feel - the fun and the games are over, you will all be dead soon. You will all be dead soon. A familiar chant. Your mind wanders and spirals and you’ve walked up to the edge of camp with your head in your hands, the furthest you can go without the yapping pixie-lamp before your body experiences that sharp chill, the curses’ fingertips edging you into its welcoming void. It is so tempting sometimes to answer. Especially during nights (days? It’s hard to tell here) like these.

You are facing the dark with this ugly look on your face, Astarion’s voice sounds behind you, the slap of his palms colliding. 

“Do you have a moment?” he asks. “We need to talk.”

All he ever does is talk, but he doesn’t usually ask.  Something sinks in your stomach as you turn around - disarmed by the sullen look in his face. You know what’s coming, you’ve always known, you make sure he knows it too. “What about? Your undying love for me?”

He’s taken aback for only a moment, then calm. “Something like that. Except… Not at all.”

You exchange these quiet, dry and polite smiles. A small nod of your head. “You don’t need to do this.”

The elf stammers, holds an uncharacteristically shy hand out as he notices you begin to turn in your step. “You - hold on, not so quickly.”

You stand as still as stone while Astarion collects himself, his words, he squeezes on his knuckles and shakes his shoulders, whatever script he had planned has been discarded.

“I think… The both of us came into this arrangement with… Mutual understanding of the terms, right?” He sucks in air through his teeth, “You get something pretty to befoul to your heart’s content, and I get to direct you at whatever needs gutting - and away from myself.”

You almost reel in amusement of his description of the unspoken - entirely accurate, but so simplistic it is almost insulting. And it’s been so long now… Things have changed so much. “Not quite how I would put it, but sure.””

“How would you put it?”

“A little more favourably towards myself, mainly.”

Astarion scoffs and brushes you off “Look, all that I am trying to say is that I had this nice, simple plan. Play your little games, keep you invested, give you reason to keep me around. In… The only way I know how.”

His eyes flicker towards the ground.

“But you haven’t cashed in yet. At least not since the first time - if we can even call what happened then sex.”

Your beady irises stare down at him, puzzled. “I haven’t been in the mood.”

A half-lie. At night, you look across the fire at his sleeping face and jerk off into the gravel next to your bedroll. When you lay together on the grass and look at the stars (back when there were any) you relish the opportunity to grab hold of his waist as you adjust your bodies on the uneven dirt. You are obsessed with his long, spidery fingers, your loins swell whenever he throws his feet up on your lap during dinner.

But these unprincipled thoughts get away from you every time. They fester and rot like carrion under a sweltering sun, giving to the overwhelming eroticism of separating flesh from bone until you are gnawing on his marrow and regurgitating white, curly hairballs. Every night since he’s given into your wills you’ve taken a long whiff of his neck and the mildewy scent of his death injects a picture into your consciousness of tenderised meat sloping off skewers, slice it like a warm knife through animal lard. You want him inside of you all of the damn time.Your blood rushes, you try holding onto a coherent thought but silence deafens you. Astarion leans in and as you focus on the roundness of his eyes you are struck with an anxious feeling - how long would it take for you to forget what they look like, once they are gone?

“That’s fine. More than fine, actually. Dare I say it’s… Nice.

“I thought being with you would be a chore. No different from what I’ve been doing for the last two hundred years.” He snorts an awkward, charming little giggle. A heaviness in you begins to disperse. “I seem to have gotten caught in a trap of my own making.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I like you. I like your company. I like looking at you.

“You -... You’re incredible. You are this force to be reckoned with but… You are also sweet.”

There is nothing you can think to say. Less of being  stunned into speechlessness and more so taken by the sincerity in his face - the wet shine sitting on top of his pupil, what a sad world it would be where you deprive yourself from seeing it again.

“We might be dead very soon. In fact, we very likely will.” He chuckles, trying to seem unbothered. “So… I’ve come to humbly ask that you humour me for a little longer.”

“Humour you?”

“Well, I don’t want to be so presumptuous as to think you would reciprocate. You don’t strike me as the type” He puffs out his chest, looks away - going back to hiding behind a rambunctious facade, given away by his wavering tone. “You’re not even fucking me. I have to assume interest has… Diminished.”

“It’s unlike you to have so little confidence in yourself. Or to be so coy.”

“I’m not being coy” The vampire’s voice cracks, you fail to hold back a grin. “I am just stating the obvious. If there’s a better explanation for what’s going on then - well - then be out with it. I’ve seen everything, you know? There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

You laugh. “I don’t have anything crawling down there, if that’s what you mean.”

For a moment, you consider telling him of your inexplicably violent nature; you don’t know whether it would help or harm.

Another time. Not now. You like this. You don’t want to risk ruining it. “I… I will ask that you bear with me, for now. There are things I still need to figure out myself,  and I will.” You shake your head. “We aren’t dying any time soon, I promise you that.”

Astarion suddenly moans in relief, throwing a glance over his shoulder and at your somewhat surlier companions, each in varying states of tucking themselves away. “I’m glad someone is keeping positive. Delusional as it might be.”

But you weren’t so confident  a minute ago, were you?. A minute ago, you were a thought short of  teetering over the edge - then he showed up. 

“Astarion”

“What?”

“I can hardly ever get you out of my head.”

He stares at you for just a moment, no surprise or fluster to speak of on his face - only a dead serious look, an expectant gaze. “Really?”

“Really.”

He hums. You don’t let the silence settle for too long. “So, what would you like to do with this?”

“With this? As in ‘with us’?” Astarion laughs “Honestly, I have no idea. I- I don’t know how to be with someone anymore. That said… Whatever it is that we’ve been doing has been… Nice.”

You nod, watching as Astarion’s slender hand reaches for yours, cradles it, dark and scuffed between a cage of the elf’s pale fingers.You lose yourself scrutinising his bruise-coloured fingernails, his veins popping greens and blues through translucent skin; hopelessly infatuated. “It has.”

You look up from his knuckles, catching Astarion with this unapologetic, adoring look in his eyes. You surprise yourself by revelling in glimpses of future, indulgences so frivolous, free from pruriency - some care, some tenderness, sharing seats at a table or clean sheets in a bed.

Astarion caresses the calluses on your palms. He says he needs to rest, but invites you to slip into his tent - just to sleep, nothing more, dying or not, he wishes to be held. You are tempted by the offer, for a moment wondering if all of your concerns had been fabrications all along. You feel at peace. You’ve been cured. You tell him that you will, once you’ve washed off blood that’s clumping your hair together on top of your ears. He slips off your grasp, walks away, leaves you day-dreaming of dipping your fingers into his skin like the breaking surface of a milky puddle, violence poetic enough that you give yourself a pass.

A few nights from now, you will try to kill him.

[triptanite]

Tieflings Family - bg3 comic Rolan, Cal, Lia

I hope you enjoyed!

[triptanite]

do we like headcanon posts being bundled up like my first one (i.e., having 4+ characters in one lengthy post) or would it be better to post them separately by character?

Single posts take waaaay longer to post because I'm waiting to finish up to thirteen character pieces in one go. But, it's more convenient to find and to read along one post. It's also visually more appealing on the dash and can help people read other characters pieces because they're all right next to each other

Split posts are quicker to post because I can send them out as soon as they're done and edited. But it can still take a long time to finish everyone + you might be waiting longer for your preferred character while others are completed. It's also not collated which feels a bit messy to me, especially if I reblog or post other stuff in between stories

[triptanite]

back to the shadows 🌑

inspired by the storm by pierre auguste cot, shri’iia and astarion running away from the sun bc he’s a vampire and she has sunlight sensitivity.

please zoom in to see the details! 🥹🫶

[triptanite]

taking a brief writing break, got hit with a case of the sads, be back later <3

[triptanite]

I've done Wyll and Halsin's sections of my next headcanons piece n it's really very fluffy and sweet so far!! I have noticed my sections are longer in this one than in the previous so it's taking a little more time, but that's okay

nyanyway ttyl when I have another update :3