Controversial Opinion But If Someone Spends Days And Weeks And Months Of Their Free Time Writing Fanfiction

Controversial opinion but if someone spends days and weeks and months of their free time writing fanfiction for free and you don't like it,,,you don't have to say that 💀

I mean I get the argument, no one likes everything and you should accept criticism but literally the only thing that keeps writers writing is feedback, they don't get any kind of money or compensation and generally have to lie to their friends and family about what they're spending 90% of the time on so give them a break

Learning to write is an evolution that takes time and you'll stop that stone dead by leaving a nasty comment

Lil Sketch (no its a lie, it took me more then one hour...) of Charlie Cagney, the gorgeous Hogwarts Legacy MC by @heyitszev 🥰 I will draw the linear later on the tablet. Maybe. Their forehead seems a bit to big, you think? Must be their huge brain :P (im not sure, is it too big?) pls ignore the lil (fr) drawn boi down there.

(This was the second try btw, pencil feels not familiar anymore)

The Valleys

Aka Percival and Idris' family if they had lives

Thomas Valley

Mbali Valley

Annabelle Valley

My MCs as Text Posts Pt. 3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 4

Bleeding Me Dry

Word Count: 1.7k

Kieran Baines (Durge) x Astarion Ancunin, mentions of Idris Baines & Kieran Baines

Summary: The time had come, to take down Cazador Szarr and stop his Rite of Ascension once and for all. But they'd been beaten, badly. Now all Cazador cared about was destroying Astarion. And with his hand around Kieran's throat, he had all he needed to do exactly that.

Read it on ao3

“I don't know what insults me more.”

Idris cried out as Cazador’s boot slammed down onto their chest, pinning them to the stone floor. Kieran heard something snap but through the pain coating their every nerve he couldn't tell if it was their ribs or the violin on their back. Kieran snarled as he clawed at Cazador's hand around his throat. Idris's eyes kept darting to him, but Kieran was more focused on Cazador. His nails, more like talons, bit into his skin. He was squeezing Kieran’s neck just tight enough he could manage to breathe and holding him just high enough his toes brushed the floor.

“That to defeat me you bring these wretches, worth less than the worms in their heads,” Cazador continued, ignoring the siblings’ attempts to free themselves. Kieran's strength failed him. He may as well have been a gnat for all Cazador seemed to notice him. All the vampire’s attention was on Astarion. “Or that your very presence proves my methods flawed. You would still disobey my rules, again and again.”

The sound that came from Astarion was completely animalistic as he tried to leap forward only to be held back by the gnolls restraining him. Kieran searched the chamber for their other party members, having lost track of them in the fight. They'd charged in here like fools, not once considering Cazador would have minions and monsters with him they'd have to contend with. 

Astarion had been forced to his knees a few meters away, his bow broken on the ground and sword nowhere to be scene. Shadowheart was unconscious and surely fading fast where she laid unconscious near the stairs. Lae'zel crouched at her side, sword gone but clearly surveying the battlefield still. Gale was pinned to a column by a werewolf’s claw around his throat. Idris couldn't even see Karlach, just the tips of her fingers as she clung to the edge of the platform and tried to pull herself back up. Wyll's leg was clearly broken and kept giving out from under him.

“I will never obey your rules again,” Astarion spat. He thrashed hard enough against his captors Kieran idly worried he'd dislocate his shoulder or break his own arm. “Do your worst you slimy piece of shit.” 

“Disappointing,” Cazador sighed, as if Astarion was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. “I'll have to rectify these errors. I need to find what exactly went wrong with you and fix it.”

“Are you so pathetic you'll postpone your ascension because you don't have total control over one man?” Idris snickered. Cazador gave him a look of such disdain it should make them shiver but instead they smirked up at him through their bloodied teeth. 

“These creatures are the ones you've chosen to travel with?” Cazador sneered. “Such a naive, weak thing. Surrounding yourself with feeble powerless things so you feel more powerful in comparison?”

“If you really think that's why he surrounds himself with people who actually care about him then you're more sick than I could've imagined,” Idris scoffed. 

“And if you think we're powerless then you're also more stupid than I could have imagined,” Kieran snarled, just desperate to turn Cazador's attention from Idris. “And I’ve heard plenty of stories.”

Cazador finally looked at him and when he did he grinned. Something about it made Kieran regret every snide word that had ever crossed his lips. It was sharper than any blade, more dangerous than any monster, and colder than death. He didn't even want to call it a smile, but there was no denying it. It was like he'd finally understood something as he slowly turned back to Astarion.

“You sweet thing, you don't truly think anyone else could care for you as I have, do you?” Cazador cooed, speaking slowly like he was talking to a child or a fool. For the first time Astarion's face dropped. For just a moment his eyes dropped from staring into Cazador's with loathing and instead looked to Kieran's with worry and for strength. Kieran even managed a small smile. He didn’t know how they were going to all get out of this, but they were going to. He was going to figure something out.

“You never cared for me,” Astarion said. “You used me, tortured me, and made every single day of my life a living hell! I'd rather die than be subjected to your bullshit again, and I will die before I help you ascend.”

“I can see you've made your choice,” Cazador sighed. Astarion's eyebrows shot up as Kieran and Idris exchanged a look. He'd never give up Ascension just because Astarion didn't want to help him. “I suppose I'll simply use another.”

Cazador lifted his staff and Idris was launched off the platform, only a panicked spell from Gale pulled them back and sent them tumbling onto the floor. Their attention drawn away, no one reacted in time to stop Cazador from pulling Kieran in and sinking his fangs into Kieran's neck.

He may have cried out. Someone may have screamed. He may have even heard his name. But he couldn't be sure.

Cazador's bite was nothing like Astarion’s. When Astarion bit him it stung only for a moment and then he'd feel a bit woozy after but comfortable in his lover’s arms. After weeks of feeding him the bite barely even stung anymore.

When Cazador's fangs pierced flesh right next to the mark Astarion had made, it was worse than a sting. It was like ice and fire all at once. His blood was boiling, burning him from the inside out. His neck was on fire. But as Cazador continued to drain him his limbs grew heavy. He started to shiver from a cold he couldn't really feel. He was hardly aware of his surroundings anymore. The fight bled from him until he couldn't even stand. His head lulled and fell unwillingly onto Cazador's shoulder. Still the vampire didn't stop. 

He imagined it couldn't take long to drain a person of their blood, but what should have been a few moments instead felt like ages. 

He thought of Idris, who took him in and was kind to him no matter what Kieran's Urges screamed at them in the night. Idris who found them frantic and devastated behind Elfsong and brought him upstairs to tell him that they were his sibling now, no matter his blood. 

He thought of Astarion, his Star. The man who valued freedom and his own life above all else yet stayed by Kieran's side no matter the danger of put him in. The man who was the first to swear to him he was his own person, not Bhaal's, and that he could beat this. The man who was now watching a his torturer tortured Kieran instead. 

He thought of Orin, not who she became but who she was. The little girl following at Kieran’s heels who delighted in everything about him only for his own stupidity to turn her against him. It was too late to save her, but he still wished he'd gotten the chance to try. 

At least now she'll get what she wanted, Kieran thought as his vision turned black. And what better way to spite my father than for his spawn to become the spawn of someone else?

As his vision darkened he felt himself fall weightless. This was it, either he'd die or he'd awaken as one of Cazador's Spawn. As selfish as it was, he wished for the former.

Arms encircled him as he fell into someone's lap. He still shivered, even as he leaned into the warmth of the person's chest. For all he knew it was Cazador but he was just so cold he no longer cared.

“Come now, darling, look at me.”

Astarion.

“Kieran, look at me,” Astarion demanded. More of a plead actually. He could vaguely make out Shadowheart's voice next to him muttering healing spells. “Stay awake, do you hear me? You will not be his, I won't let him have you, I won't.”

“I'm here,” Kieran murmured.

He forced his eyes open, a feat that somehow seemed harder than fighting Cazador's grip. The platform was coated in blood and the bodies of the undead. Astarion's ‘siblings’ were still suspended in the air around them but at least their party was alive. 

It was Astarion's arms he'd fallen into. He was still shirtless, covered in blood and sweat and dirt. He stared down at Kieran with wide eyes. There were so many emotions contained in that one look, but at the front was utter terror and devastation. He searched Kieran’s face while tears fell down his own.

“I'm here,” Kieran whispered and brushed away the tears gathering at his jaw. “I'm here.”

Astarion’s shoulders shook as he inhaled. He still stared, like he expected to find a tell on his face. But of course there was nothing to be found. Astarion exhaled sharply and curled inward, leaning his forehead against Kieran’s just for a moment. In that moment nothing and no one else mattered. The whole world faded away and its dangers ceased. It was just the feeling of Astarion’s cheeks beneath Kieran’s palm and the feeling of Kieran’s breathing chest in Astarion’s arms.

“What happened to Cazador?” Kieran finally wondered. “Is he dead?”

“Not yet,” Astarion growled and looked to the standing coffin in the middle of the chamber, now surrounded by that same blood red light. Kieran nodded and forced his feet underneath him. Before Astarion could even protest, Idris appeared at Kieran’s side to hold him up.

“I'll be fine, just need a really really long nap,” Kieran insisted. He nodded toward the coffin. “Finish this.”

Astarion stalked forward and ripped Cazador from the coffin, tossing him carelessly onto the floor. When he picked up the dagger Kieran knew exactly what he was thinking. All he had to do was carve the runes on his back onto Cazador’s and he could take Astarion’s place in the ritual, exactly what Cazador had planned to do to Kieran. Kieran took a deep breath, ready to protest, but Astarion looked to him first. As soon as their eyes met that greed fell as his eyes darted to the blood coating Kieran’s neck.

“No,” Astarion decided. “I can, will, be better than you. But I'm not above enjoying this.”

And when he finally dropped the knife, freed the spawn, and was left broken to stare at his old master’s corpse Kieran still stumbled forward and took his blood soaked hands.

“Come on, Star,” Kieran said. “Let's go home.”

Meet My Tavs: Atlas Heretic

Born Melantha Keylan, Atlas's parents were a young couple in the small village of Silverfell, who's only claim to anything was the temple to Lathander. Neither of them knew a pact to Asmodeus ran in the father's bloodline, so they were apalled when their baby came out pale as death with white eyes and dark blue hair. Worst of all, were the little nubs on their forehead, surely representing horns.

They gave the baby to the Temple of Lathander, who were determined to cleanse the baby. Atlas grew up believing himself to be some wretched, evil thing. A devil that needed to be purified and cleansed. He didn't even protest when the priests carved runes into his face and neck or tattooed his forehead. Then ze grew up. The older they got the harder it was to believe the priests' lies. It all came to a head when they overheard the High Priest contemplating cutting off zir horns.

They fled the temple and, as luck would have it, stumbled across a group of tieflings who were passing through the village. It was from them he found out ze wasn't a devil, just a tiefling, and that there wasn't anything wrong with them. It was also from them that ze learned of the common tiefling practice of naming themselves after wishes, goals, and identities. So Melantha became Atlas Heretic and ze never turned back.

They went with the Tieflings to Baldur's Gate but split off quickly, refusing to rely on or trust anyone ever again. Ze decided that if the world was going to treat them like a criminal then that was what he would be. Ze had a knack for stealth and sleight of hand, so ze ended up a master criminal and infamous theif that also refused allegiance with anyone, driving Nine-Fingers mad. Ze would also commit the occasional assassination, but had very strict rules and it had to be an insane amount of money.

Ze was on a rooftop in the Upper City staking out a job and waiting for night when the Nautiloid got a hold of them.