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#salt in their scars

vanixing-thts · 9 months

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[...Tinkertoy 🗝...]

(New, improved, and dedicated to the amazing people @projectdestati )

Emergency Commissions open! ⊂( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)⊃

#kingdom hearts #art #digital art #fanart #commissions open #kh xion #kingdom hearts xion #xion #glitch #scars #wind up toy #key #trigger #roxas #kh axel #axel #kh roxas #sea salt #seasalt trio

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 5 months

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hmm. i feel like what c//a stans fail to take into consideration is that.. shakespearean tragedies were never supposed to be romantic. they were supposed to be tragedies.

i just know for a fact that op here was referring to the infamous romeo and juliet when they talked about “shakespearean tragedies”, because that's the most notable example of a forbidden romance. but the point of romeo and juliet wasn't the romance, it was the dramatization of an adolescent relationship due to family feud. romeo and juliet were never truly “in love”, they were children who were infatuated with each other, as often happens with children.

not to mention, the conflict in spop was so forced, it was more frustrating than tragic. especially at the end of failsafe. instead of having catra work on her abandonment issues and try to help adora in whatever way she could, the show decided to have her project her issues onto the person she allegedly loved and abandon adora when she was practically on her deathbed. this isn't a tragedy, it's yet another example of catra being self-centered and toxic.

#“catra is not self-centered she just didn't want adora to sacrifice herself!!”#the first thing she says is that adora chose shadow weaver over her #catra wasn't sad that adora was going to die‚ she was sad that adora wasn't prioritizing HER all the time #“why don't you want to stay with me after i gave you irreparable trauma and scars??”#spop critical #spop #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti catradora #anti catra #anti spop #anti c//a #antic//a #anticatra #anticatradora

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howtostandinsilence · 10 months

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how does it feel to know that the author that created the character you’re defending outright called out the pro darkling fans and actually used their arguments against them in the king of scars duology? you know something’s off when even the AUTHOR says you’re wrong lmao

I don't respect Leigh Bardugo enough to care about her opinions. Sorry 🤷🏽‍♀️. She speaks about issues she clearly doesn't understand and acts like she's the authority on the subject, she wrote a story "against abuse" that somehow made the message worse, and she infantilizes her female fans as well as her female characters. Her writing supports oppression and racism, and has a pretty heavy theme of assimilation and conformity. She cheapens real oppression, abuse, manipulation, and grooming with her heavy handed attempts at writing them when she's so clearly ignorant.

The King of Scars duology is so badly written it's almost laughable. Zoya's rise to power is highly offensive, especially when it comes to how the persecution of her people is handled. Leigh Bardugo doesn't actually use Darkling fan arguments against them in the KoS duology (or prove them wrong) because she doesn't seem capable of understanding what they're even saying. She can't effectively argue against or disprove something she cannot even a) properly address, or b) understand at it's most fundamental level.

Even so, what she has to say about the subject is simply wrong. She clearly doesn't even know how cults or religions work, and the levels of finger-pointing in the KoS duology are so extreme as to be comical. You mean the Darkling that was dead all this time is somehow the cause of the problems the main characters created? He is somehow manipulating them even now from beyond the grave? At what point do people realize they're just using a convenient scapegoat?

"You know something's off when even the AUTHOR says you're wrong" - Look I'm sorry to burst your bubble Anon but authors aren't actually an authority on anything, and especially not on very serious issues like persecution and abuse. Would you take HP Lovecraft's word about the morals in his stories? I doubt it. Because the author will always have prejudices outside of their writing that they incorporate into it, and Leigh Bardugo clearly does.

So no, I don't feel much of anything on the subject, because Leigh Bardugo has proven to have nothing important to say on it. In fact, she generally only has very harmful and ignorant things to say. And in true echo chamber fashion, so do her fans and Darkling antis.

#shadow and bone #anti leigh bardugo #anti sab #sab critical #sab salt #sab discourse #king of scars #anti darklina bs #anti darkling bs #the darkling #aleksander morozova #abuse mention tw #grooming mention tw

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abigailmoment · 6 months

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"Do you want to become art?"

There was a right answer to that question. And unless he gave it, things would get worse. Things could always get worse.

"Yes, master," he said.

"Say it," Cazador instructed.

Astarion swallowed thickly. Then he said: "I want to become art."

----

This is a companion piece to Kindness is Quiet and Bright. If you haven't read that, the ending will be a bit confusing.

Full Text On AO3

Full text below.

----

The worst part was the waiting.

That was a lie. The worst part was the pain. But waiting was awful in its own special way.

A sudden awareness that he was wanted had dragged Astarion to the upstairs study. It was the nice, east wing one with the large fireplace. Astarion hadn't been in here in five years, since the renovation. He knew about the renovation because he had helped bury the contract workers under stones in the dungeon. He noticed that the rug was new and a little garish, but that was the only detail he registered because, in addition to the rug, the room contained Cazador. And Cazador always had a monopoly on his attention.

Cazador was sitting at the desk reading over a spread of documents. He looked calm, which was good, and even a little smug, which was better. Good moods meant that sometimes begging worked. He was wearing the nice black doublet with silver filigree that he only wore for important guests, which made Astarion wonder who he'd been meeting with. It also meant Cazador wasn't going to do anything to Astarion that might damage his own clothes. Which was useful information.

After Astarion had been standing by the door for perhaps five minutes Cazador spoke. He didn't bother to look up from his papers, but he asked mildly: "Are you fond of that shirt?"

That meant something that was about to happen that would damage Astarion's clothes. Which narrowed Astarion's guesses about what was about to happen to four most likely scenarios. Whichever one ended up being true, he didn't want to lose the shirt. He took it off, folded it carefully, and stowed it under a chair. Then he went back to waiting.

The waiting was both horrible and boring. Astarion passed the time by examining and having opinions about the renovations. The rug was of good make, but the color was much too loud. The new wood paneling was tasteful and Astarion agreed with the choice of walnut. There was a giant oil painting of a still life with a skull and wilted flower. It was hilariously ugly. Astarion tried to daydream about the conversation that had produced such an unfortunate commission, but he lost track of what he was thinking about every time Cazador moved.

He kept at it, though. There was nothing else to do apart from muse disjointedly and be afraid.

Eventually Cazador started rolling up the sheaves of parchment on his desk. He opened a drawer and put away all but one. Out of another drawer he produced a black lacquered box. Astarion recognized the box. It was very old and filled with razors and knives. The four possible scenarios that Astarion had been trying not to think about narrowed into one.

It was better, though. To know what was about to happen. Better than uncertainty. Cazador looked at him directly for the first time.

"Do you want to become art?" he asked.

There was a right answer to that question. And unless he gave it, things would get worse. Things could always get worse.

"Yes, master," he said.

"Say it," Cazador instructed.

Astarion swallowed thickly. And then said: "I want to become art."

"Good," said Cazador. "Kneel."

Astarion moved to kneel in front of the chair. He knelt up, so that his back was convenient to reach. He clasped his hands together tightly in front of him.

He heard a click behind him as the black lacquered box was opened. He heard the very soft sound of metal brushing against the velvet lining as something was selected.

Then there was a loop of sharp pain in his back. A circle. Drawn large, shoulder to shoulder. There was no blood. He hadn't been eating well enough to bleed from a cut so shallow. The loop of pain was followed by smaller strokes. Letters being carved.

This was how art worked: Astarion had to hold still, and he had to be silent. If he moved, Cazador would make a mistake. If he made a sound, Cazador would make a mistake.

And when Cazador made a mistake he would press the offending wound closed and order Astarion's flesh to mend. And Astarion's body would find dregs of blood that he could not spare, hiding deep in his organs where it couldn't bleed out wastefully. And there would be a dizzying pang of hunger. Almost as sharp as the knives.

And the dizziness might make Astarion sway. And then Cazador would make another mistake. And he would have to fix it again. And that could spiral into more swaying, and then collapsing, and then failure. And punishment. Things could always get worse.

The hardest part was keeping his back from moving. Astarion coped by trying to redirect all motion to his hands. He let his fingers clench and twitch as ts were crossed and is were dotted. There felt like there were a lot of dots in this one. Something particularly intricate happened at the base of his neck. He didn't move.

Cazador paused to check something on the desk. Astarion took the moment to flex his hands, rest them for long minutes while he heard paper rustling.

Then he heard velvet being scraped again. It was very quiet, but he was very attuned to catching that particular sound.

Cazador made another looping cut. Another circle. Smaller. Concentric. Then more text was being carved. The text was taking longer than usual. The cuts were very deliberate. Astarion would have thought that a smaller circle would be quicker to complete, but apparently not. He was getting tired by the end of it. He'd made two noises. A whine and a sob. He'd paid for them both.

The smallest circle was bad because it was almost entirely over his spine. He was trying to keep still, but he'd reached the point where sometimes his back spasmed out of his control. And there was something in the middle that had to be carved with that very particular scalpel that curled like a corkscrew.

"You are distracting me," Cazador said testily.

Astarion realized that he'd been making a sound. Whimpering. He hadn't noticed. He bit his tongue. The mark in the center had to be redone several more times.

Then finally, finally he heard the silk swish of the cleaning cloth. He stayed still, but was almost delirious with relief as he listened to each tool being polished and put back in its case. The click of the black lacquered box being closed was a sound pretty as a bell. Tolling that it was over. Over.

But then he was being moved. Not ordered. Physically moved. He was trembling with pain and even more starving than usual, so he didn't have the strength to resist even if he'd been mad enough to try. He was hauled up and pressed flat on top of the desk.

All right then. Not over. What was next? An epilogue drawn up his neck?

"Hands stay here," Cazador said, planting Astarion's hands where he wanted them, words sealing them in place. On the edge of the desk where he could grip.

Astarion felt indignant anger flare inside of him. This was insulting. He'd didn't need to be braced, like a fledgling who'd never been written on. He hadn't needed that for years. He could kneel through the pain. He turned his head to the side, about to say something deeply inadvisable to his master.

But that imprudent impulse died before it became words. When he turned, Astarion saw that Cazador was putting on gloves. Thick, black leather gloves. That was new. Astarion hated new. Why was he putting on gloves?

Astarion kept watching as Cazador produced a vase from a cabinet. A fine porcelain vase. The kind you stored ashed in. He also brought over three bowls. Pretty. Also porcelain. Of Amn make. Each was a different size and they stacked together, nested in each other. Like three circles.

Cazador took the largest bowl. He unlatched the urn and with great care poured a measure of its contents into the bowl. A cascade of white particles. It looked like sugar. Or salt. And it glowed very slightly. Astarion wouldn't have been able to see the very slight shine if the room hadn't been so dark. It glowed in a way that made Astarion instinctively uncomfortable.

"Crystallized holy water mixed with salt," Cazador explained. He liked to explain new things. He liked watching Astarion's expression change while he did.

"The tragedy of our art together is that it is ephemeral," Cazador continued. "The blessings that I have given you heal all wounds."

He reached over to touch Astarion's neck, fingers pressing into two divots.

"Save for the important ones."

His hand drifted over to touch the open wounds in Astarion's back. Raw and bloodless. Unable to scab. There was nothing to scab with.

"And these." He toyed with the broken skin, making the muscle sting. "These are important."

It was one of those moments where it was particularly strange to not have a pulse. It really felt like something should be beating wildly in Astarion's chest and temples.

"Master," Astarion said. His mind was racing, even if his heart wasn't. Trying to come up with something to say that would change anything.

"Yes, boy?" Cazador said.

"Art is ever changing," Astarion tried, that sounded pretentious enough to appeal. "Isn't it? And wouldn't it be a pity if you were inspired one night and...I couldn't provide a canvas? I would...so hate...to lose these evenings together."

Cazador paused in his preparations, seeming to consider. He reached out and put an indulgent hand on Astarion's cheek.

"Astarion. You beg so prettily."

He'd used Astarion's name. That sometimes meant strange things. Astarion waited and watched. Cazador was silent for just long enough that Astarion started to hope.

"But you scream more prettily than you beg," Cazador said. "Perhaps that is something to work on?"

He checked his gloves again. Then he picked up the large bowl of white crystals. He set it down on a slightly different position with a deliberate click.

"For the outer circle," he said.

Cazador poured out another measure of sparkling white flecks into the middle bowl. He set it next to its fellow.

"For the inner circle."

Cazador filled the smallest bowl to the brim and put it down inches from Astarion's face.

"For the spine," he said.

"Master," Astarion whispered, graceless now. "Please don't. Please..."

entering turn based mode.

"Art doesn't talk," Cazador told him.

And with those words, Astarion became something that didn't talk.

And all he could do was watch as Cazador checked his gloves again, picked up the smallest of the bowls, and moved behind him. Out of his range of vision.

standard action: hide / move: 9 meters / end turn

There was a sensation like fine gravel falling on his back. Into his back. Bouncing into the open grooves of torn flesh. And then it started to burn.

It burned and it burned and it was worse than fire or sunlight, because it didn't burn away. He could feel the crystals inside the wounds. Radiance and salt. It was like he was being cut open again, but all at once. It was so exquisite and precise. He thought he might be able to read the letters by feel, if only he knew the language and wasn't dying of agony.

move: 9 meters / free action: loot backpack / standard action: use scroll / end turn

When he came back to some sense of the world beyond pain he was panting. He tried to stop. Cazador hated breathing--a graceless habit in a vampire. Astarion managed to twist it into a sort of breathless hissing. He hadn't screamed. He'd been trying so hard not to scream while kneeling and the habit stuck. But it wouldn't last. Not when that happened again.

free action: take crystal ball / move: 9 meters / standard action: dash / move: 9 meters / end turn

Cazador was tracing the outer circle of cuts. No, they weren't cuts anymore. Astarion could feel that he had scars now. All over his back. A permanent change. They ached as Cazador touched them.

And then Cazador's hand entered his field of vision, reaching for the second bowl. Astarion wanted to beg, but he was a thing that couldn't speak, so he just hissed and whimpered and clenched his hands around the edge of the desk and tried to brace himself. He stared fixedly at the far wall. The window. The sky outside, moon and stars. Please. To be anywhere but here.

free action: drop item / free action: manipulate item

There was something wrong with the moon. He could see it through the window. And it was too large, and too bright.

And also, he shouldn't be able to see it. There weren't supposed to be windows here. There were no windows in Cazador's Palace.

Was he...not in the palace? Where was he? He could smell burning, but it wasn't his back. Wreckage. There was burning wreckage from the Nautiloid. But then the question became: what was a Nautiloid?

None of this made sense, but actually, that was all right. Because the moon was actually the sun. It had been very silly of him to mistake it. The difference between moonlight and sunlight was...ha. Well, it was like night and day. And the sun was so large and close that it almost felt like he could touch it.

So he did. He reached out and grabbed the sun and held it tightly. It was his now. His morning. His sunlight.

He sat down heavily, on a carpet, or on a beach, or in the forest. He wasn't sure. He didn't care. Wherever he was, it was better than where he'd been. Because things like...what had been happening. To him. They didn't happen under sunlight.

So he clung to the sun. He held it very tightly. And for a moment, just a moment, he was safe. ----

The next morning, Astarion discovered that he had apparently sleep-stolen Gale's crystal ball.

He wasn't certain how he'd managed that, or why he felt so very unreasonably fond of the object.

But it was his now. He hid it behind a pile of books and never gave it back.

***

Next Chapter >

***

#bg3 #astarion #fanfic #Torture #Mind Games #Cazador-Typical Horribleness #Knives #Razors #many revisions #how do you leave scars on a vampire?#Holy Water And Salt

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overanalysingfandoms · 1 year

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This is a screenshot of what I said on this post

And I think it's relevant to the current Scar Vs Techno poll going on right now. While I love them both (absolutely no hate to Techno here, he's a sexyman but not as much as Scar is) I feel like Scar fits the bill of 'Tumblr Sexyman' way more out of the two of them

Not only does be fit both traditional sexyman standards (white, dark hair, capitalist, tall, a twink, charismatic, has a dark/evil side) and modern sexyman standards (cryptid, non-human, a cannibal, a poor little meow meow, gay) but he can also be buff and a twink and charismatic and a sad boi

Not to mention, JUST LOOK AT THOSE MINECRAFT SKINS and the scitties, I mean, come on...

Techno is a sexyman but he just isn't on the same level

I feel like people are voting for Techno because they see him as the underdog because Scar is the obvious winner of the entire competition and has been since the start (that isn’t just me saying that, from everything I've seen it's the general consensus) and because of that nobody votes for Scar so he becomes the underdog actually at risk of being taken out in each bracket, not the insane tank he should be

I get that nobody wants to vote for the obvious 'popular choice' but in this case YOU ABSOLUTELY SHOULD please I'm begging you

In conclusion, VOTE SCAR, he may seem like the obvious choice but he is not!!!!

#tldr everyone thinks that by voting for Techno they're being cool and quirky and not like other girls but actually #if you vote for Scar you're cool and quirky and not like other girls #also this is all in good fun #no salt to anyone especially not Techno #that being said...#if you don't vote for Scar I will find where you sleep at night and personally smother you/j #scar sweep #mcyt sexyman poll #mcyt sexyman #mcyt #scar #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #techno #technoblade #scar vs techno

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thelikesoffinn · 3 months

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Hey friend❤️

I got to start off by saying that, I've been loving your writing and your perspectives on different aspects of the game and mixing your personal experience and expertise into your statement. It's just 🤌 amazing and a great night time read

There has been a quote that been dancing in my mind for a while, when ascended Astarion stated to the Tav later after their break-up "You will regret leaving me, more than anything you live to regret". And how Neil delivered that line... its all i can think about. There was so much bitterness, contempt, and melancholy in his voice 😭

I feel that after he sought out his revenge on Cazador and reached ascension, he realized that still feels/remembers his past, still remains deeply insecure and that internally, not much about he as changed, but during that conversation with Tav, he doubled down on how his has more powers, and can call on wolves 🐺 just like a scornful Ex stating that they are doing fine (or even, much better 👀 ) after the break-up to just make their ex-partner feel just as miserable as them (he may also be projecting 👀, and maybe he regrets ascendening since it mayhave been the cause of the break up of the 1st person he had ever cared about and didnt bring him everything... well, atleast not the stuff that truly mattered to him)

I was wondering what did you think of this line and the conversation surrounding that line🤔

P.S ( I would love to hear you talk about why you hated Astarion's reaction to Tav sleeping with Mizora 😃 )

"A great night-time read". Duck. Lovely. That's basically the highest of compliments, I'm melting! I'm so happy you enjoy it 😭❤️

I know exactly which line you mean! I think that was actually one of the first ascended lines I ever stumbled across.

I love how ambiguous it is, because the timing is the way it is.

It could mean "you will regret leaving me because look at me now! I'M AWESOME!"✨️ *throws glitter*

But the moment he says it is just fantastic, because half a second before he was like "I should've made you a spawn to teach you that I can have everything I want" and then he follows it with "you will regret leaving me" and I love the correlation between those two phrases. They can both stand separate, but they can also stand together and hint at a possible future.

You know, it leaves us wondering a bit. Will we regret this? Or will he make us regret it?

(Personally, I 100% can't see Astarion let Tav go. I just can't, I don't. He already shows obsessive behaviour right now, just after ascension, and that likely won't stop just because Tav's like "Nah, love, thanks tho.". Vampires just aren't that lenient when it comes to things they desire. And, despite being ascended, he still is a true vampire.)

I don't think he regrets ascending, really, mostly based on the fact that I don't think he actually CAN regret anything anymore. I think I mentioned it in another ask, but regret seems to be a difficult emotion for true vampires - and thus our true vampire+ babe - as they can't really process it the way a normal person would and anger overshadows everything. So, at best, I think he'd be angry at Tav for not seeing how grand he is now and how it's "their loss" when they refuse him.

I do agree, however, that his insecurity likely stays. It's just overshadowed by ascension, blanketed and kept hidden in the deepest, darkest place where it won't be reached.

Ascension doesn't completely eradicate the very core of his being, it just twists it into the worst it can be.

Love becomes obsession.

Fear, pain and despair become anger.

Shame and Guilt become blame.

So the very core of who he was is likely still there, suppressed and dulled by what ascension has done to him, and his trauma and the resulting insecurity are a huge part of who Astarion is.

In a way, I can even see it seep into his life later on in a repeated cycle of abuse.

As I said at another time, most of the time those who have been abused don't want to abuse others. They don't want to inflict the same things they've gone through on anyone else - albeit they may become abusive in other ways - and will likely shy away from repeating the same things they've experienced.

But ascended Astarion is probably not part of said "most". It could potentially become a way to...well, to cope with the lasting scars Cazador has left him with. Although "cope" is already putting it very very kindly.

Hurting others the way he was hurt can underline the exact difference on who he was and who he now is. It elevates that feeling of power (and safety) he always craved because look at him now! He's the strong one now and no one will ever hurt him again.

He was just like them. Screeching and flailing, flinching and suffering - a weak, pathetic, disgusting wreck. But look at him now. Who could hurt him now?

No one. Not a single living being holds a candle to what he's become.

He's above everything.

Regarding his boasting I do agree - he probably wants to show them how awesome he is (✨️) so that they regret it, but all he does is prove why leaving him was a good idea.

What I find interesting is that he actually does show a lot of joy and excitement for the powers he will attain and the things he will be able to do. He uses it to boast, but it does seem like real excitement and I can not tell you how interested I am in what happens once he notices that it's not enough.

Once he can turn into mist and command werewolves, what's next? Where will he find his next dose of serotonin? Because I think we can all agree that this won't be enough.

It won't ever be enough.

Astarion will forever be in a state of want, and he'll always be greedy for more and more and more, and one day, this greed will be the reason for his demise.

All in all, that entire conversation is a very well chosen way to show us who he's become after ascension. It's just a few sentences, but god, they can imply so much and carry a surprising amount of weight if one is willing to listen.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #astarion #bg3 asks #disclaimer: op is forever scarred by strahd so take with a grain of salt #also the mizora thing is next on my list it's basically done I'm just trying to space things out instead of spam posting haha

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