#scar mention

[oddsconvert]

Mute Whumpee having been forced into silence until they hear a certain “permission” code word.

Caretaker thinking that Whumpee is just mute from trauma now, and after about a week into their rescue they accidentally let that word slip and next thing they know, Whumpee is sobbing and apologizing and pleading-

Caretaker always liked the peace and quiet.

The sound of his own footsteps down an empty hallway, the creak of the floorboards beneath him, the soft whirring of the air conditioning unit in the corner. He liked the way the silence seemed to wrap around him like a blanket, shielding him from the outside world. He liked the way he could hear himself think, hear his own thoughts crystal clear when it was nice and quiet. When there were no distractions. When Caretaker could just be, without worrying about anything or anyone else.

Solitude is a blessing. Caretaker wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the whole wide world.

Caretaker used to like the peace and quiet…at least, before Whumpee fell into his lap.

The silence is now deafening, ear-piercing. The birds have stopped singing, the only sound is the wind rustling through the crunchy leaves scattered on the ground outside. The air is still and heavy, and the only movement is slow, steady drip of rainwater from the trees.

It is a silence that is full of fear and anticipation, and it is a silence that is waiting for something to happen. The quiet sounds like failure and disappointment. Another day blurs past in the blink of an eye - another day where he’s no closer to Whumpee speaking. Caretaker doesn’t even know the name of the man he rescued from the pits of hell, nor does he know his story. He doesn’t know the sound of Whumpee’s voice. If he has a family and friends, searching day and night to bring him home.

Whumpee is a mystery to Caretaker. And Caretaker is a mystery to Whumpee.

Caretaker peeks through the crack in the door, checking on Whumpee as he sleeps…on the floor. Whumpee lies huddled on the cold, hard ground, ignoring the perfectly made bed in the corner of the room. Like he’s not allowed to sleep in it. He writhes and flinches in his sleep, kicking his legs and whimpering like a dreaming dog. Whumpee is in there, somewhere, even if Caretaker can’t reach him just yet. He has tried everything he can think of, lost countless nights of sleep tossing and turning, and thought of every way to pull himself out of the darkness in his head, but nothing seems to work.

Whumpee suddenly awoke with a start, screaming and covered in cold-sweat, his eyes darting in horror around the room. Dark circles hang beneath his eyes, every inch of him vibrates in terror. When he spots Caretaker lingering in the doorway, he flinches and chokes on a sob.

“Hey, hey! Shhh, you’re okay!” Caretaker bursts through the doorway, rushing over to Whumpee’s side, “You were having another nightmare-”

Caretaker rubs Whumpee’s back as he heaves for air, “Would you like me to stay?”

Whumpee smiles, but it does not reach his teary eyes. His muscles tense like a spring about to bounce, and still he nods his head in agreement. Or submission.

Somewhere, somehow - Whumpee must understand and realise that this is safety. Caretaker is safety. His wounds and gashes are scabbing and closing, dark bruises fading into his pale skin. His belly warm and full. The dog collar strapped tight to his throat when Caretaker found him - long gone. Caretaker burned it.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I knew how to help -” Caretaker holds Whumpee's face, cupping his cheek.

There’s that damn silence again. Whumpee sniffles and wipes at his nose, refusing to even look at Caretaker now. He has all the answers, just not the words to reveal them. So close yet so far.

“I want you to know I will never hurt you, Whumpee. I just want to help… I just…I just want you to heal-”

Whumpee’s eyes go wide with horror, and he freezes like a statue. Caretaker can hear their heart racing in both their chests. Before Caretaker could stop him, Whumpee is kneeling at Caretaker’s feet, wrapping his arms around his legs, clinging like a baby koala and bursting into tears.

“Th-Thank you! Oh, thank you s-sir - thank god!” Whumpee wails, his voice deep, hoarse and scratchy. Caretaker can hardly believe his ears. It feels like a fever dream. Whumpee just spoke. What just happened?! What changed?!

“Whu-Whumpee?!” Caretaker gasps.

“I’m so sorry sir!!! I waited - and waited and…and I tried! I tried so hard to be good. I thought you’d never say it- I thought you'd never release me-”

"Release-"

"Heel. You - You told me to heel-" Whumpee slumps back onto the heels of his feet, sitting by Whumper's heels, his hands folded limp in front of his chest - begging. "My release word. I-I did good? I didn't speak, sir!!!"

"No…" Caretaker falters, "No, you didn't."

---

Drabble taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername  @whumpsday  @sparrowsage  @whumperfully  @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen

[feeblescholarmyass]

An Awful Apology

In which Osamu Dazai does an awful job at consoling you after he got hurt. Alternatively, you give Dazai a bath and it makes you cry.

tags: non-sexual nudity, injuries, bathing together, helping Dazai rewrap his bandages as a sign of affection, Dazai is bad at handling emotions, Dazai uses humor to try to lighten the mood (it doesn't work), scar mention, bittersweet undertones, not really fluff not really angst, angst with comfort maybe?, Dazai x reader

a/n: this originally was going to be multiple characters but then I changed my mind

masterlist

All of the jokes he'd made about seeing you without your clothes had simply been that: jokes. It had served as something to fill the silence that had long accompanied your shared moments of solitude, a way to search for your laughter and make you both forget what you were thinking about.

He would be lying if he told you he'd never thought of you that way, but he would never act in a way that would result in your beautiful humanity being shattered. The light that shined in your eyes was more precious to him than his own life, and he promised himself that he would never do anything to make it go out.

He had never imagined it would happen like this. It was his fault. He'd gotten reckless, even though he knew how you felt about it. He got the job done, and that was what mattered.

But he had gotten hurt. Yosano had wanted to heal him, but after you insisted he should go through the healing process as punishment and had practically threatened to hurt him again yourself if you had to, she relented. So technically it was your fault.

He'd fully expected to have to deal with his injuries himself, but when you followed him home and sat beside him in silence, he began to suspect that you wouldn't be leaving him alone for some time.

He let you sit and stare at him, as uncomfortable as it was. He had tried to tease you about it. "Afraid I'm going to disappear, darling?" He asked, grinning at you playfully.

You hadn't responded. Instead, your grip on your chair tightened and a shaky breath escaped your lips. Oh, he thought.

So he let the silence surround you, a weight that he would bear so you wouldn't cry. That would be the worst possible outcome.

"You smell really bad. You haven't showered in a long time, have you?" You finally spoke, still refusing to look him in the eyes.

He laughed. It sounded hollow, but he didn't know how else to respond.

"The hospital gave me instructions on how to change your bandages after they get wet." You looked away. You knew it was a sore subject. "If you would allow me," you added softly, that look in your eyes spearing through his heart.

"I suppose it might be difficult to do on my own," he said. Strangely, it didn't terrify him as much as he thought it would. Everyone had scars. You would see his. He hadn't expected for you to show him yours.

It wasn't awkward. You removed his clothes, and there were no heated touches or flushed cheeks. It was tender, so much so it almost hurt more that way. He would've preferred it if you had stumbled, showing some sort of hesitation. He would've had something to deflect with that way.

His eyes, as accustomed to wandering as they were, were glued to your hands. They shook with the emotions you wouldn't voice. Even as you gently raised your shirt above your head, it was your hands he noticed. They weren't delicate by any means, he knew that well, but they seemed fragile now. You seemed fragile.

Together, you were seconds away from shattering. You were suspended in mid air the moment before the crash, aware of the impending breakdown you would surely endure, but taking the moment of calm before the storm.

The water was warm, but you felt warmer. Your fingers running through his hair and the sound of your breathing was almost enough to lull him to sleep. The wonderful smell of your shampoo, stronger at the source, wrapped him in a blanket of comfort as you washed away blood and grime from his skin and hair.

"Don't you ever try that again," you whispered. Your voice shook as you spoke. It made him feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," he responded. You both knew he couldn't promise that.

So you took the apology. It wasn't the first time he'd done something so idiotic. For someone who was so intelligent, he made the stupidest mistakes. It definitely wouldn't be the last.

"For once, I get why you hoard bandages," you muttered as you followed the instructions Yosano had given you, along with Dazai's little comments on how tight it was, what felt strange, or how to layer the bandage properly so it didn't come off.

He'd made another joke after that. You had huffed out a little laugh, but it brightened his mood considerably. You were starting to feel better.

Instead of talking about his scars, he asked about yours. "That one on your shoulder, how did you get it? And the one on your arm, wasn't that from a job he'd been on with you? What about this, here?" He asked. It distracted him and got you talking. He cherished each word and listened to each story.

Finally, you finished reapplying his bandages, and he'd run out of questions to ask. You sat on your knees in front of him, and he realized he hadn't stopped your fall.

A tear fell down your cheek, then another. You bit your lip, trying to force the sobs back down. You shook, the force of your own emotions too strong to deny.

He hesitated to reach for you. You'd never cried in front of him before. Even with the years you'd spend at his side, he'd never seen what happened once you reached the safety of your bedroom and allowed yourself to not have to be strong.

His fingers brushed against your cheek. His arm wrapped around your shoulders. He pulled you close and buried his face into your hair. He wouldn't watch, he promised. He was here.

You choked out insult after insult, your words catching in your throat. They hardly stinged with the usual harshness you threw at him. They rolled off his back like water droplets as he hugged you tight.

"I'm sorry," he said again. This time it held more than the apology. You wrapped your arms around him in return. He let you cry until you had nothing left in you.

He accompanied you to your kitchen, where you downed a glass of water and fed him a meal. He'd always liked it when you cooked for him, but this felt more special than usual. There was more heart in it.

He laid beside you as you fell asleep. Your eyes were still puffy and your face still red, but something about you was irresistible. He meant it when he called you beautiful.

"I love you too," you whispered as exhaustion pulled you under. He hadn't said it explicitly, but you'd heard. He loved you for that.

by @feeblescholarmyass on tumblr

comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[h0t-p1nk-ch33tah-pr1nt]

In simple terms here's a infodump abt how i hc hobie's appearance

• FIRST OF face, face, eyes EYEESS ik I always say this but he has sectoral heterochromia, has a little bit of blue on his left eye like the drawing below

The drawing is kinda ugly but bare with me

• I really love the idea that his eye brow piercings are little spikes instead of studs. He actually draws on his Eyebrows cuz he shaved half of them off

• he tends to change around his piercings alot!! His favorite lip piercings are spider bites. And that goes for his ears aswell, Likes to change and style them bc he has like 4 piercings per ear?

• has little side burns and chin hairs bc I SAID SO !!!!!!!!!!! Not a full on scruff but little hairs.

• tongue piercing mhm mhm.

Ok so body

• we all know he's lanky and has this skinny muscle to him, I'm not gonna change ANYTHING abt that, tee hee stickbug

• but man is so beaten up, scars everywhere on him.

• one big scar on his collarbone, cat scratch on his left pec and one on his stomach, most of his scars are on his arms, he has a really bad one on his right due to him going into water and then proceeding to get into radiation when he got bit by his spider

• his spider bite was on his right hand :] (he has a weird hand bump still where he got bit)

• honestly I see him being so beaten up bc of everyone 😭 a lot of spider men aren't depicted with scars, even if they had a drone got smacked in their face.

• hobie has had a baseball smack his face.

• he kinda has little hairs on his hands? More like the base of his hand and then trail up his arm, even if he doesn't have arm hair.

• NAIIILLLLS loves to paint them, his right thumb glows bc of the damn radiation 😭😭 (when he first got bit, it went away)

• but another headcanon of mine is spider people have this weird grip on the pads of their fingers not like paws, but think of the first spider movie where they did a close up of his hand? Hobie has this like sandpaper texture on his fingers because of it.

• hands also being calloused from guitar playing/drum playing, and in general spiderman duties.

• did yall know he sometimes used barbed web instead of regular.

• and finally belly button piercing, bc fuck you

[snoopybutch]

All I got rn is my flowing leg hair cradling my giant scar and that is it baby. The other day I was like man my scar used to look crazier I kinda miss that which is such an insane thought but if a friend asks me to explain I will. Just not for GeneralTumblr bc it’s a bit vulnerable and I’m feelin cagey

[toomanyfandomsorkinafs]

Do you ever look away for a bit just to look back and see that Grian FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF?!?

yeah same.

(He had no energy, I’d try to get him to sleep, he didn’t want to, so he went swimming)

I will say that it is a world where mumscarian are ❤️roommates❤️ with adopted children to torture them😊

[muppenthings]

(Start) (Previously) (Next)

The Menace wastes no time digging into this treat, happily humming at the crunch.

While the Menace chews, Merry looks around, thinking it'd be awkward for them to silently stare at him while he eats.

Their eyes fall on the scar on his neck, then down to the ones on his stomach and between his pectoral fins. Merry frowns, what could've caused those to someone as massive as the Ocean Menace? Any weapons that mers use has been futile against his thick skin and scales, or so they've been told. They can't think of any sea creature capable of creating injuries like that either. Humans and their large ships may -

"Like the view?"

Merry blushes, having been caught staring. They snap their head up to face the Menace who's finished his snack and is now grinning mischievously at them.

"Sorry, I was... lost in thought," they admit.

"Hmm it's fine, I'd be checking me out too," he hands the empty harvest bag to Merry with a wink, whose blush intensifies.

The Menace stretches, "I won't keep you here, thanks for the snack~"

"Oh, I have time," Merry is quick to add, "We could talk for a while, get to know each other... If you want," they continue carefully.

The giant pauses, how long has it been since he had a casual conversation? He pushes the thought down and shrugs nonchalantly.

"Alright then, I don't need to hunt for a while," he leans back again and offers a palm for Merry to drop the harvest bag on.

[toburnup]

3 minute fic: heal

"that's healed nicely." eddie traces his finger along the scar on steve's neck. "looks badass if you ask me."

"really?" steve looks skeptical, eyes glancing over eddie's shoulder to the mirror behind him. "i sort of hate it."

"nah." eddie's hand gets more insistent, both thumbs smoothing over the skin on his neck, dipping low to brush against his collarbones. "makes you look like you survived something gnarly."

"i did." steve laughs, and then brings a hand up himself to feel at his neck. turns the other way and sees it in the new angle. "i guess i hadn't thought about it like that."

"it's better than mine." eddie pulls up the side of his shirt, where the deep scars healed - sort of badly, even steve can see that - the skin red, blotchy. "makes me look like i didn't quite survive."

"i still like them." steve says and his voice is soft, fingers softer as he runs them up eddie's side. "and you did survive."

[chestharrington]

steve hates his scars from his dive into the upside down. he goes from thinking of himself as a ladykiller to horribly disfigured. he spends a lot of time examining his stomach, back, and arms in the mirror. eventually he begins avoiding the mirror altogether.

he doesn’t wear short sleeves anymore, even in the summer. he doesn’t care how annoying dustin gets when he says “steve, it’s 90 degrees outside, take off the hoodie.” eventually steve gets so annoyed he just snaps at dustin, and feels horrible for it. that’s where you come in.

you’re sitting on steve’s bed while he vents about snapping at dustin, but he doesn’t reveal why. you’ve never seen the scars- steve’s never let you. you keep pressing him to tell you what’s wrong, and then he’s snapping at you. he stands up from the bed and strips his shirt off.

“here you go!” he yells, throwing his shirt on the floor. “is this what you wanted? to see the reason why there’s no mirrors in my room?”

you start to cry. you feel bad for him, but he’s also never yelled at you. he wants to apologize and hold you, but he thinks you’d be too grossed out to be touched by his arms, so he turns to leave to go to the bathroom and cry it out. you stand and grab his arm, pulling him close. you gently stroke the rough skin on his back, apologizing the entire time.

“no, no, none of this was your fault, baby.” his voice is quiet and shaky. “i’m sorry i yelled, i just- i get angry thinking about it, i-“

“i understand,” you interrupt him. “i get it.” you’re really not mad at him.

you sit him back down on the bed and let him vent about that night to you, holding him when he cries. you stroke his hair as he comes to the end of his story, voice hoarse from sobbing.

you tell him to get comfortable while you make tea for his throat. he puts his shirt back on and nervously shakes his leg while he waits for you to come back.

-✨

✨ anon you’re so real for this. This is beautifully written <3

What’s sad is the fact that he puts himself through so much for other people. Like, he volunteered to go first through the gate and that’s how he got all of his injuries. Time and time again he’s throwing himself in the line of fire to protect other people because at his core he’s a good person. But it also implies that he thinks he’s the least deserving of safety… food for thought.

[toournextadventure]

If we're already telling stories about our scars, I have a few, but I'll share the dumbest one. So, as a kid, I wanted to impress my two older brothers. I decided that the best way would be to do some cool parkour. Since we were at home, I had to work with what I had. I thought the best idea was to grab onto the doorknobs on both sides of the door and start pulling myself up. So, I called my brothers, got on the bed, and... I jumped with all my might onto the edge of the door, cutting my forehead on the metal door latch.

Speaking of scars caused by siblings, I have a scar on my nose next to my eye from when my brother threw a wooden tailor's measuring tape from my grandma's at my face. An inch away, and I would have lost an eye. Our parents had a ton of work to keep us alive and more or less in one piece.

-🕷️

Listen, kids will do anything to impress older siblings. I had older cousins, so I did the same thing. It makes us lose all common sense

Dude, someone was watchin over you for that one 😭

[im-fuck3d-90]

My childhood was stolen from me. I want to go back and do what I want. I should have been able to wear the clothes I wanted to, not what other people at school told me I should. I don't want my scars. They should have never had to be placed. They shouldn't have been able to develop at all. I should be passing by now. I should be on T by now. I should be on a waiting list for bottom surgery by now. I should be me by now.

[crymeariveronceagain]

Keefe's scars

A Burn scar on the back of his neck. Fintan once grabbed him there to pull him away from something and his hand was hot.

Thin little pock marks along his wrists that he did not and would not have put there. They've been there since he was three. They're a bit raised and they used to burn at night, when the moonlight streamed through his window and kept him from sleeping. He thinks, now, years after they first appeared, that he was injected with something there. He still doesn't know what.

A long gash along his back, thick and sharp and jagged. Throwing star. Hit him in the back. It healed, sure, but left a knot of scar tissue.

A curled line that slices thinly and sharply in a circle around his right wrist. It showed up sometime after he joined the Neverseen. He assumes it was part of the training he doesn't remember.

There are a lot of jagged scars on his legs. He seriously doesn't remember what battle each of those appeared after. He's beginning to forget where the lines begin and where his memories end.

His back has a lot of random lines. He knows one he got from his fight with King Dimitar. He's not sure which one. He's fifty-six percent sure it was on his left side, and the one above his hip, not the one that was probably caused by an arrow to the shoulderblade. Probably.

A thin line along his left forearm. Cassius crashed him into a vase after the Great Gulon incident.

An X drawn just below his collar bone by two completely different scars. He knows one of them was from a sword. The other one might be from a burn. He's not sure.

A thin line on his left pointer finger from when his knife slipped one day in the woods. He didn't tell anyone about it, and he probably should have had someone look at it, because it scarred over.

A tiny little nick at the corner of his mouth that he never stopped picking at and only finally scarred over.

[blackbrrytea]

HC:

Kazuha with scars

Kazuha with rough, calloused hands

Kazuha with mild cuts and burns

His family worked as swordsmiths for generations, and he is definitely experienced with the blade. I'm sure there are some marks to prove it- may have even started with splinters from his practice wooden sword

What are the bandages on his arm for anyway?

[hungry-hyena]

rook, for the corvid ask

Rook

"What's something about your appearance that's unique? "

Thanks for the ask anon! I'd have to say my scars. Burns, cuts, old injuries, surgery scars as well. All of them are unique to an experience I had at one point. I know some people are ashamed of the scars on their body but to me it's a reminder that I'm living my life to the fullest. Sure some aren't from the best of days but they're proof I'm stronger than I think I am.

They're proof that living on you may change but you can still heal.

Sorry if that was a bit heavy but it honestly brings me joy. Like smile marks and eye wrinkles. There is evidence of my life's experiences so even if I forget one day there's proof I lived well.

[calem-creative-corner]

Creeping Dawn

I... wrote a little thing. My elf-silver dragon oc Victor needs some love.

Also featuring one of the ocxoc ships I have for him!! @multi-lefaiye‘s Nasgatei makes an appearance. I love the themb (as in ship and character) 

Content Warnings: Vague Death, Death Mention, Fire Mention, Scars Mention

Memories are hit or miss, moreso misses when you have a troubled past. 

Silver lined blue eyes slow open, glowing a dull red as pupils flick towards the alarm clock glaring from the nightstand. 

04:16. 

A heavy sigh left thin lips as the body sat up, swinging legs off the side. 

04:16, it would be now, or never.

Victor quickly put his backpack on, the bag weighing him down a bit with its contents of food and stray clothes. Hopefully everyone else would be sound asleep and he’d make a clean escape. 

Guilt piled in his stomach as he realized who and what he would be leaving behind, but he could not stand to be in this home anymore without answers. 

Without looking back, he opened his window and entered the hot and humid night air.

Crisp early morning air caressed his skin as he leaned on the balcony railing outside of his now home. With a flick and spark of blue-toned flame the scent of cigarette smoke mixed in with the city's morning air.

The ashes filled his lungs before he realized what the sight before him was.

He didn’t understand. He had left, why were they the ones being punished? 

The angry red flames engulfed his old childhood home, the crackle and roar swallowing the scream from inside. The silhouette of a figure in the top floor helplessly beat against the glass before the fire pushed both parties to the ground in a charred and bloody heap. 

The figure had been burned so badly Victor could no longer physically tell who it once was, but he knew based on the size.

“M-mothe–”

He gripped the railing tightly as the sun began to turn night to an early-morning haze. The soft rays of yellow laying over Victor’s body highlighted the one thing he hated more than him. Himself.

Scars littered his pale skin, raised gnarled from going untreated. Silver scales shimmered in patches between these marks.

“Bring him forward!” A voice called from the judge’s podium as a scared adolescent Victor is dragged from behind the crowd and to the center of a stage. 

Why was this happening? Victor’s wide eyes scanned the crowd. Their eyes were filled with fear, disgust, and anger. Why? Why look at him that way? He was the one who just lost his family! Tears were forming in his eyes. They were blaming him because it was easy, because to them it made sense, because his father’s damned heritage started to come through. 

The scales shining on his beaten and bruised back were enough to convict him. Enough for the townspeople to want him dead. 

He remembered becoming frightened to the point he thought his heart would just stop. And he thought it had as everything went black, however, when he came back the entire town was coated in ice and flames. 

The scales had spread further along his body, most covering his left arm or his back. 

Gentle hands traced over his scar and scale freckled skin, his body not even reacting to the touch as the hands moved to embrace him by his waist. The other’s body pressing against his back as a sign that he was not alone and a weighted comfort.

“Rough night?” The deep and rumbling tone of his partner broke the silence. Though asked, the two knew the answer.

Victor sighed and flicked the used up cigarette off into the alley, “Same as ever.” He turned to face them, Nasgatei watching with concerned but doubting eyes. 

The golden warmth of their eyes, the deep rich tone of their skin. Victor couldn’t ask anything or anyone to hand him someone so beautiful yet could relate to him so deeply. Sometimes he believed they were truly his karmic return for the horrors he’s been witness to in life.

“Hey, it’ll get better.” They offered him with a softer smile before it turned into a playful smirk, “Now stop brooding before the local goth kids come to take their title back.” 

A snort left Victor and that seemed good enough for Nasgatei. They gently patted his chest, “That’s more like it.” They turned to return inside but Victor reached out, his hand finding theirs. 

Quietly he pulled them to him, their back to his chest as he looked back out over the city.

“Just… stay a while.” He barely uttered as he placed his head on theirs. The smaller of the two humming in acknowledgement as the sun fully rose into view.

Perhaps a new dawn would give them brighter dreams.

[vaeltan-louxser]

[arikos-of-caelid] “Holy sages, how long have you had this?!”

Vaeltan doesn't often remove his headband, nor the worn cloth draped over it. At the intersection of tradition, habit, and shame lies his reason.

Tradition, for the headbands of his tribeskin honor the image of Hoarah Loux.

Habit, for he's worn something atop his head, headband or otherwise, for decades.

Shame, for beneath the headband lies an expanse of hairless skin riddled with scars and pockmarks. Around Arikos, however, he’s far more comfortable letting them show.

While many of the scars are short, shallow pink lines, one in particular arcs over his scalp, deeper than the rest and bordered by keloids.

"I've had it for years," he says with a shrug, wringing the cloth component of his headband free of the soapy water it had just been washed in and hanging it up to dry.

"Got it from a...a spat between myself and a group of hunters from the Badlands tribe who thought I shouldn't exist. Ah, well, I did try to take their catch, to be a least a bit fair to them. I was starving, and it was meat.

One of them clipped my head with an axe, simple as that."

[pandapupremade]

2, 10 and 16 for whoever you'd like! (@eldritchships)

asks from here | thank you for sending!! fraser time againnn

2. when in canon does your self insert come in? do you have a scene in mind for your entrance?

i dont really have a specific scene where they come into canon lorewise, because it happens prior to 3 houses, but in 3 hopes Fraser comes in alongside Holst during the Golden Wildfire route - following him to meet the students at Fodlan's Locket (i think thats the name??) to fight off the almyrans, and then coming back 2 years later when things go down at the capital. Fraser shows up prior to Holst during that battle, because ofc Holst LITERALLY canonically is not there for the first part of the fight because he ATE A BAD MUSHROOM so fraser goes in his stead

10. how do the other characters feel about your self insert and f/o’s relationship?

being that Fraser was previously an infamous bandit leader, people have. doubts. Most often, Fraser's true past is sealed, but Many people still know or have figured it out. Fraser no longer hurts people like that, but Holst being engaged to xem is still. Stressful. Nobody dares blame Holst, mind you, because Holst is a good guy and the strongest warrior in the Leicester alliance, BUT ppl often think Holst is just being reckless. Most actual dislike goes to Fraser

Still, theres ofc many friends Fraser gains among the ex-garreg mach students and xe begins to gain a better name for xyrself

16. freebie! name a fact about your self insert you want everyone to know.

Fraser has a scar on the right side of xyr face (our left!) from burns. Xe is ashamed of the burns, and covers xyr face with hair instead. Holst is one of the few who has seen the scar