#i'm having lots of fun with this one

[happy-hermit]

Part Two of White Hair Scar fic !!! This man is going through it <3

Part One

@stiffyck

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He’s lucky he doesn’t run into anyone on the way back to the Swaggon, because when he climbs into his bedroom and glances at the mirror, the first thing he sees is white. More than there was before. Way more. 

The entire front section of his hair is now a stark, unnatural white. Scar stands in front of the mirror and slowly takes his hat off. It won’t help, anymore. He’ll have to find a new way to hide. 

What is this? His mind works frantically behind a layer of numb acceptance. Why is this happening? Why is it happening again? 

It’s like his hair has given up on holding a color. It’s almost as if his body is forcing him to have some outward sign of his internal struggles, which isn’t fair; not when he’s trying so hard to keep it hidden. Tears prick at his eyes, but he stubbornly blinks them away, exhaling shakily and looking up at the ceiling. There’s a cobweb in the corner. He’s been away for too long. It feels like he hasn’t really come back at all. 

(Would that really be so bad? If he’d stayed gone? If he’d stayed there? No one has seen him since they’d gotten back. No one has come looking for him. No one cares if he’s here or not.)

The faint echo of the harsh words drifts through his mind, and he closes his eyes tightly, breaths coming faster. The phantom burn wounds spread across his body start to sting. It’s like he’s burning all over again, dying and dying and dying—

The mirror cracks as he turns it around so its reflective surface is facing the wall, and his hand is shaking where it now rests against the back of it. He’s lost the battle against the tears in his eyes, but at least now he doesn’t have to see it. And he’s alone. So no one else has to see it, either.

(No one would want to. No one should have to. He is not allowed to be sad, or angry, or lonely. He is only allowed to be happy, to be quiet. To be alone.)

The floorboards creak as he collapses down next to his bed, painful sobs wracking his body even as he tries so hard to stop them, even as he holds his trembling hands against his mouth, as if it would do anything — as if his hands could ever be anything but clumsy and unsteady and useless. 

The sun outside has set, and the lanterns in the room are burning bright. Scar can see his reflection in the window. He gets the honor of watching in real time as another section of hair turns white, bleeding slowly from his roots to the ends. He whines high in his throat, heart dancing to an offbeat drumline in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard that it hurts. His knees pull up to his chest and he hugs them tightly, pretending that it’s someone else holding him close, pretending that someone cares enough to comfort him, pretending that he is someone who deserves it.

Scar is on the floor in a room that doesn’t feel like his, in a world that feels wholly separate from him, and he falls asleep holding his own hand.

—-------

In his dreams, he is standing alone in a vast expanse of darkness, and someone is speaking to him. 

(You are trapped here) says the voice, gleeful and cruel. Mocking. (This will not change, and you will not change. You don’t know how, do you?)

“Who are you?” Scar demands shakily, and his voice echoes in the infinite space around him. “Where am I?”

(You could be anywhere) says the voice, and the inky blackness surrounding him ripples and changes and suddenly he is standing in the desert, cactus growing in a ring around him. (You could be here.)

No. Scar lets out a strangled gasp and stumbles backwards, sand grabbing at his ankles, blood dripping into his eyes, and he is tripping and falling and landing—

On a mountain. His wizard hat base is rising into the sky above him, and the wind is howling, and even his breath has left him. His vision is blurry. He cannot think. Please.

(You could be here) the voice continues, endlessly amused, and the world fades back into darkness. (You could be anywhere. But you can only be yourself. And you will always—) Scar gets the impression that the voice has gotten closer. (— be alone.)

“Who are you?” Scar asks again, broken and quiet. 

The voice chuckles, and the hair on the back of Scar’s neck stands up. (Don’t you know?)

It's right behind him—

Scar whirls around and comes face to face with— Red eyes. Horrific burns. Black cloak. White hair. 

His distorted mirror image grins at him, cruel and unforgiving. (You never were that bright, were you?)

—-----------

Scar wakes up screaming.

His breath rattles in and out of his lungs at unhealthy speeds as he scrambles into a sitting position, eyes wide and darting around the room. He’s shaking so hard that the bedframe is rattling quietly against the wall. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears. 

It was just a dream. Only a dream. Scar closes his eyes and counts to ten, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. When he opens them again, he is at least less likely to pass out.

He had moved to his bed at some point in the night, but now his covers are strewn about the floor due to his frantic movements. The sun is bright outside his window, and he knows without checking that it’s nearing midday. His head hurts. There are dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He is still shaking.

He gets out of bed anyway, sitting on the edge for a few moments before finally finding the courage to stand. He staggers over to the big chest against his wall and kneels down beside it, flinging it open and digging through it with trembling hands. Finally, he finds what he was looking for, and pulls it out onto his lap. 

A worn green cloak, hooded and heavy. Just another one of those items of clothing that he keeps for just-in-case purposes. It’ll come in handy, now. It’s perfect for hiding. He doesn’t have to look to know that his hair has gotten worse.

The cloak falls over his shoulders, a comforting weight, and some of the tension drains out of him. He’s only just woken up, but he’s tired. He is tired in a way that he doesn’t think can be fixed.

I need to go away, the thought appears unbidden in his brain, a quiet certainty. No one can leave him, if he leaves first. I need to build somewhere else.

It wouldn’t be for long, or for good. It would just be… a place to go. Just in case. Somewhere out of the way. 

He starts making a list of materials he’ll need for his new base in his head as he walks toward the door, already workshopping different themes and ideas. He pulls his hood firmly over his head and reaches for the doorknob, puts his hand on it, and he— freezes.

What if someone’s out there? His mouth goes dry, his hands going clammy. His heart speeds up, just a little. What if they want something?

Scar shakes his head forcefully and turns the knob. Stop being stupid, stop being scared.

He walks through Boatem with a few empty shulkers in his inventory, one hand on his hood to keep it down and the other twisted into the front of his shirt as he struggles to fight off his nerves. There are a few gray clouds hanging over the horizon, but they are far away, and the sun is shining. He wonders where he should go. Where would be far enough. 

He equips his elytra absentmindedly, just finishing when distant movement catches his eyes, and he turns, heart in his throat.

Grian and Mumbo are sitting on top of Treesa, and Scar has to squint to see what he thinks is a picnic. They’re eating lunch together. It is simple, and casual, and such a small thing, and Scar aches.

Mumbo spots him and raises his hand in a wave. Grian turns and does the same. Scar hesitates, mind running a mile a minute, his heart skipping stones across a violent ocean in his chest, and then he waves back. His hand shakes, and he drops it quickly, continuing his walk.

For just a moment, he considers turning back. He considers going over there. He considers throwing his entire plan out the window and begging them to let him stay. 

Instead, he pulls rockets out of his inventory. 

(Rule number one. Don’t go where he’s not invited.)

Scar picks a random direction, and he flies.

[keymintt]

more public art! these fellas were printed on vinyl for the sides of a traffic cabinet

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

At your side [End of Season 2]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[tuttle-did-it]

You know, it's genuinely sad to me that aging favourite character actors no longer have any fun murder-mystery tv shows to guest-star as murders on.

[lilybug-02]

Eimmet High...temmiE high. OMG!

Part 28 || First || Previous || Next...(Hiatus)

--Full Series--

Next update may take...much longer! I have finals and an internship and not to mention I have to draw- A LOT :')

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[egophiliac]

hiii im sure you’ve answered this before but in regards to your twst x Pokémon, how do you choose which Pokémon go give to the cast?? really curious since your choices are unique :O

unique in a good way, I hope? 😅 (jk jk I haven't come across too many pokemon AUs, so I was going in without preconceptions, I guess!) I was sorta aiming somewhere between doing, like, a full AU with internal consistency and everything, and just picking entirely based on theme/character, so maybe that's why! basically I just set some arbitrary rules (no legendaries/no repeats/evo stages based on year) and then went on ~vibes~. a couple were also suggestions (thank you guys!) and last-minute decisions, so it was a bit of a delightful mess of ideas!

my one regret is that I should have given Riddle a Togedemaru after all. ...you know what, he can have one now, why not

[salamispots]

haven't been to the aquarium in of the pacific in years so it was really nice

[scissorcraft]

post-canon siffrin design!!!! might change it up more of course but!!!! yeah!!!!

he does HAVE something to represent odile and bonnie too,,, it's not just his partners (romantic & queerplatonic), he's got his family too, i just don't know where to put them yet :) so for now assume he is carrying them in his multitude of pockets!!

[buttercupshands]

So.

Act 5, huh?

Oh, and that.

"You can start breakdown now."

Finished the game couple of days ago and had some thoughts I needed to process a little. Like. Yes.

So anyway I actually didn't plan this and just wanted to redraw some sprites to just make sure I understand how to draw Siffrin correctly (still working on that!)

What did I learn from this? How fun it it to draw on a canvas that literally doesn't let you draw with colors without some layer cheating when necessary. Never tried it.

The beans. Sleeping beans.

Basically what happens when you want to sleep AND draw. Draw characters sleeping on your behalf.

Doesn't help, but at least it's cute.

I have no idea what was going on in my mind as I drew this. Feels like a fever dream of 'I want to sleep' at 4 am and 'Hm...' of thinking random things

Also that phone craft sign. Still too funny to imagine. I had to.

[shimmershy]

I've been longing for Daisies to push through the floor And I wish plant life would grow all around me So I won't feel dead anymore

[keferon]

Day one of me trying to make better Drift figure than Hasbro ',:)

Okay okay so. I found this (checks the box) Gundam Aerial Model Kit? Look at this thing. It is basically already Drift. It has really similar type of figure and even finals:D I still need to find a way to make his massive shoulder plates though.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[benevolentcannibal]

just guys being pals(?) what's better than this.