thepalelawyer

well, I started out in bg3 fandom making memes, and I still make them. But I'm also a writer of fanfic & the occasional critical analysis. Sometimes I take photos, too. Here are some of the things I've made!

oops! all Astarions~

House of Respite: finished Astarion x durge post-game, one-shot (but I might write more of 'em), #pegthevampire Wherein Astarion and Nerys take a break from slaying cambions to enjoy each other thoroughly with the aid of a nostalgic spell and a restoration pool. Explicit images embedded

Noctiluca Scintillans: Astarion x Gale, finished modern(ish, y2k) AU, 9 chapters with an epilogue possibly brewing In which Gale is a marine biologist from Southern California and stumbles on more than he bargained for while doing postgraduate research in Ireland. Lots of nerdy biology stuff here, and some angst and sweetness. Explicit image embedded

Blood & Sugar: just a sweet lil' taste of durge x Astarion dealing with the urge, suggestive but not explicit.

Stargazing: the beginning of my trans masc Tav x Gale love story. Hard won, that one. This one is very 'stop making love to me when I'm trying to fuck you' coded. Ciro is trying.

Current WIP: western AU bloodweave 🤠 yeehaw!

Fair warning: all of my fiction is literary-adjacent and deeply character driven, so continue at your own risk, hehe. I really strive to keep these characters true to their canon personalities.

I've written about:

Astarion's relationship with his sexuality

The response to the Astarion novel

Astarion's pansexuality & straight fragility in fandom

Ascended Astarion and the sanitization of his character in certain quarters

the meaninglessness of "safe spaces" & thoughts on alternative framing

...now, where was I?

Oh! Would you like to see more?

I like to post my long form stuff here, but I'm most active on instagram. I post stories and share art there pretty much every day. There are a lot more memes there, though I am trying to add them here slowly.

I post all my NSFW stuff on bluesky.

Here's where all my fanfics live, and I really love getting comments! :3

You can find some of my favorite artworks tagged here. There's a lot of hellspawn and bloodweave in there.

There's also a tag where you can learn more about me.

Last but not least, I like to catalogue any and all Y'allstarion content, which you can find here.

My main OC is Nerys Dryaalis (the dark urge). I spend a lot of time thinking about her. You can find my posts about her here.

I might add tags for my drow harem other OCs here eventually, but for now my other main character is Ciro. You can see my posts about him here.

I’m crine I mean I’m FINE and also I’m very good at games and arguing and never have a meltdown about any of it

...as I was typing the title of this post, it dawned on me that in order to post the three chapters of this Western AU fic next week as I intend, I have to name it 😵‍💫

Fic names are fraught for me at the best of times, much less when I'm only three chapters into what will probably be twenty! Oh, dear. Does anyone have any advice? I must confess, song lyrics don't work half as well for me as they seem to for others...help!

Astarion could also use some help.

In any case, here I am to give you a slice of the beginning of the fic. Keep an eye out for the regular posting schedule to start next week! I'm hoping to stick with a chapter every other week. Wish me luck!

...and as I am writing this, there are twenty two minutes left of Wednesday, so I'm sticking with WIP Wednesday, hehe.

thanks for the tags, @optimisticgrey @missfortunetherogue and @adrielmancy @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream! Uno reverse tags to all of you, and I'll also tag @silver-september @ginateeth @shadowvikingao3 @completelyrottenthings and @wasteful-sam for anything they want to share (or not, no pressure).

Astarion had wanted nothing more than to see the sun again, for years while he was locked away in the that wretched brothel. He'd dreamed of it often: the play of light behind his closed eyelids blooming pink, the warmth making his pale skin tingle. Sometimes he wondered if he was misremembering what it had felt like, after decades without.

It had been not only forbidden but a death sentence, of course. Even the Master had been unable to enjoy that daytime star until some months ago, when he'd come into possession of a most rare and precious object. How he'd gloated when he'd brought them all together to watch him slip it on his finger and step unburnt into the sunny courtyard. There were seven pairs of bitter red eyes staring out at him as he crowed and clapped, admiring the sunburst ruby set in the sigil that adorned his slender finger. Now, he said, he'd never have to fear again. That was when Astarion had resolved himself to steal it.

Now, he was wondering what had possessed him to daydream so romantically about the sun. The full, concentrated power of that orb of light in the sky was torturing him, out here where there was no shade and no civilization. The ring he'd stolen protected him from turning to ash, to be sure, but it did not protect him from developing angry red stripes on the tips of his ears, the back of his neck, and any other unprotected surface. The burns hurt, and he'd discovered too late that he could wrap himself up in his serape to evade the worst of it.

Now the touch of fabric on his skin was agony as he stumbled through the desert, worriedly turning the golden sigil ring on his finger until he could feel the slight swell of the star ruby beneath his touch. It was far finer than anything else he wore—black trousers with a jagged tear near the hem, which he'd mended a few times but kept tearing open; his old, worn white linen shirt; a black and white sarape, and chaps that didn't match—brown leather he'd stolen off a client as he fled in the hopes that they'd come in handy when he managed to find himself a horse. But now he was feeling defeated. The dark clothing, familiar though it was, was roasting him. He had no horse and no hat, his skin was crisping in the sun, and hunger was a blade sawing at his guts.

If he didn't want to end up vampire jerky, picked at by vultures as he slowly succumbed, he needed to eat. Cazador had kept him half starved, anyway, with barely enough energy to function. It was the equivalent of clipping the spawn's wings so they couldn't run. He'd used up every bit of energy he had in the escape, and he'd only managed it now thanks to sheer dumb luck. Cazador had been entertaining late into the night—some mysterious patron from Kara-Tur, and Astarion was on the outs this week as he often was. Cazador had not chosen him to serve such 'exotic,' interesting guests as some sort of punishment, theoretically, but it had given him just the chance he needed to practice those lockpicking skills he'd been practicing for…well, over a decade now.

In any case, the attempt had taken every ounce of his energy. He couldn't believe he was still upright. The trouble was that there was little if anything in the desert for him to eat. An owl? Blegh. Mostly feathers and tiny little bones. His mouth was already so dry. He had heard there were jackrabbits, but he had seen neither hide nor hair of one as he dragged himself over the sand. Just sad little lizards.

As his eyes raked over the landscape, desperate, Astarion nearly stumbled over a pile of coils. A ratsnake, baking itself in the hot sand. His lip curled. Cold blooded animals had never seemed that appetizing to him, but how much worse could it be than the rats Cazador favored? He was so weak now. Before he could think better, the vampire scooped up the snake and bit into it just below the head. Its scales parted strangely, the keratin pressing uncomfortably into his gums to either side of his fangs. The blasted thing writhed in a way that made him shudder, but he kept drinking until it went limp. It tasted…grey…for lack of a better word. Ugh. He dropped its drained body hurriedly into the sand and spat. A marginal improvement at best. At least it had been easy prey.

Astarion's gait turned into a sidewinding lope as he went along, less of a stumble now thanks to the little blood he'd gained. He was used to subsisting on less but not when he was so active. After another few moments, he saw long shadows in the distance. It turned out to be a settlement, but there was nothing there for him. No store, no saloon to seek shelter or spend his meager coin. Just a few sad little claim shacks. He huffed, but kept his head down as he wandered off the footpath that would've carried him through the place. Only just then, he heard a chilling scream.

His ears perked up and he winced at the movement, which stung the reddened skin there. Not a person, but a horse, he realized after a moment. He'd been waiting for the right opportunity. True, ideally that would be under cover of darkness, but this area was sparsely populated and he wasn't sure when he'd get another opportunity like this.

He bent into a crouch, creeping down the row of shacks toward a low, long structure that the sound seemed to be emanating from. As he moved, a series of bangs and scuffling sounds floated toward him, followed by a string of growled curses. “Cursed beast!” someone shouted. As he got closer, the banging resolved into a what sounded like hooves slamming against a stable door.

“Keep it up,” the voice snarled. “If you refuse to act properly, I’ll be glad to chop you up and feed you to the hounds. They serve their purpose far better than the likes of you.” As Astarion crept toward the back side of the stables, he could see the speaker through a gap in the slats. A tall man with long, stringy brown hair and an aquiline nose was yanking on the bridle of a dappled grey horse. The beast's flowing white mane was presently hanging into the horse’s face, its bulging eyes just visible beneath as it pulled back, trying to rear up on its hind legs but unable to due to the man cruelly yanking at the bit in its mouth. A trickle of blood was visible on its pale muzzle.

I sure hope you enjoyed it so far 🤠