#scar needs all the hugs

[angeart]

making myself sad with boatem circus au-

[isjasz]

[Day 174]

You aren't alone

In these trying times I decided to not do angst tdy actually we need some fluff

They get hugs🫂

[hinamie]

clingy

[jellydragons]

“That’s no ordinary mirror.”

So what do you reckon Wild, like… saw?

Individual frames:

[cerise-on-top]

Cried on the train today, then thought of this! This is just me coping to the highest degree again, but I thought other people might like this as well!

Nikolai as a Father

First off, he’d likely be absent rather often. He was a soldier, he runs a PMC, he’s a busy man through and through. That’s why he won’t be able to see you as often as he’d like. He’d have loved to see all your accomplishments, meeting your first partner and intimidating them, your graduation, the first time you performed on stage, but it wasn’t possible due to work. He does feel bad about it, but he can’t help it. He will try to make it up to you somehow, though he’d understand if you couldn’t forgive him. He does try to be there for you whenever he can, visiting you whenever possible, but you will be apart from each other more often than not. However, if you ever have any suggestions regarding what you’d like to do together, he’s all ears. He has enough money to grant you any wish like that. You wanna go to Japan? You want a boat trip? You wanna go karaoke? It’s all possible, as long as he gets to experience those things with you. He really does wanna make up for the lost time.

He’s a pretty relaxed kind of father. The kind that would allow you a sip of beer when you were young. He’d have no problems with you drinking, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. You should be responsible about that sort of thing. But if you ever wanted to invite a friend over to drink a bit, then he’d have no problem with getting the booze for you. Nothing too strong while you’re still young, of course, but he gets it. You’re young, you want to be stupid and do foolish things. He was like that too when he was younger, so he won’t stop you. In fact, he’ll even drive to the nearest fast food restaurant and get you and your friend something to eat. Sometimes he might cook himself, though. Nikolai’s food is downright godly, he can cook just about anything and cook it well too. As long as you don’t invite a friend over to get blackout drunk every weekend, all is good.

I think he’d probably lie to you about his job when you’re younger. You don’t need to know that he kills people for a living. You can know that he does paperwork, though. So he’d likely tell you he works an office job that has him traveling a lot. Speaking of traveling, he’ll always bring you a souvenir. That could range from a small snow globe to a nice T-shirt he found that you might like. He may be busy, but he does think about you very often. This continues into adulthood as well. If he can’t see you and give it to you in person then he’ll just mail it to you. Won’t ever allow you to work in the same field he does, though. You’re too sweet to work as a mercenary. You can become anything you want to be, but he’ll do what he can to not have you work in the military or in a PMC. He wants you to live and live well. There are no exceptions to this. He knows you might not listen to him, but he’ll tell you over and over again that those kinds of jobs are not what you might think they are. He doesn’t tell you what to do very often, but you should listen to him when he does. He’s an older man, who actually knows what he’s talking about. Besides, he only means well when it comes to you.

A very accepting father, in all honesty. You’re gay? You’re trans? He’s very supportive of you. Besides, it doesn’t matter who you bring home, he’s gonna try to intimidate them either way. Only the best of the best for you. If you ever find yourself some sleazebag, who won’t spoil you rotten like you deserve, then he’ll make sure that person will learn their lesson. He can be a very scary man when he wants to be. If you’re transmasc, then he’d delight in going clothes shopping with you and finding something that you look good in and that fits. He might even buy you a bomber jacket like he has so you can match. He’ll get you the fanciest suits too. Whatever you need, he’ll give it to you. If you’re transfem then he might not be the best suited candidate to go shopping with you. He can tell you what you look good in, but he might call someone like Laswell to help you find nice clothes that suit you well. However, he won’t save any money on anything. You know what you want? You can gladly have it. Nikolai will even pay for your surgeries as well. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy. No price is too high when it comes to your happiness. In fact, he probably has the means to get you a prescription for hormones as well. It might not be entirely legal, but it’s better than nothing if you have shitty doctors.

Likewise, if you come out to him as aromantic or asexual, he won’t mind. Sure, you might have to explain what that means, but once he understands he won’t make you feel bad for that sort of thing. Gives you a side hug and tells you that he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about your heart being broken by some asshole who can’t appreciate you for who you are. Unfortunately, if you do come out to him as ace, he might make some puns about it. Nothing offensive, but he’s your father, he can’t help the urge to make awful dad jokes from time to time.

If you don’t know Russian then he’ll teach you. He’s a proud Russian, so he does want you to know the language. He can hire a teacher for you too, if you’d prefer that, but you won’t be spared. He’ll talk to you in Russian and compliment you on your progress. Besides, it’s never a mistake to know another language. If you do know Russian then he’ll speak it with you whenever he can. Yes, even when the likes of Price are around. Doesn’t matter if it comes off as rude, it just feels homey to him. It makes him feel at ease.

[noitkot1]

s4!Scar's base is so cool and shelters all the dead Scars

Or all Life Series Scar's respawn in Scar's Frontier Outpost- or or, oh god all 5 Scar's are stuck together.

All throughout s4 Scar mentions something-something that Scar's Frontier Outpost is "a place for all Scar's to go!" This au is that, but Scar's Frontier Outpost is quite literal in its description. All Scar's that have died go there to rest. And happen to meet some of the other universe's version of themselves in death.

3rd!Scar waking up completely alone as the first, only with the cats to accompany him as he slowly wanders through this very not well lit up town. Only gaping at the TERRIBLE train track construction. Even if he is no expert a train track should not have a 90 degree turn! Of course half shirtless with a cat on his shoulder, or well guiding him. The place is abandoned to his eyes and- well. He's dead isn't he? Passed when Grian murdered him in the cactus ring, so this is his afterlife...

Its nicer than he had imagined it to be.

Then one day months and months later, there's a silly wizard in his bed with green, depressed eyes. And as he stares into a mirror, this replica-Scar sits up slowly, hands shaking with winces and the biggest frown ever. Looking towards the other Scar, his voice cracks during the sentence, "am I dead?" 3rd!Scar only does a quick nod, because while he assumed this is the afterlife, why would the afterlife have multiple versions of himself? He shrugs it off, probably better not to question it. It'll be nice to have some company.

Meanwhile LL!Scar is pulling his hoodie over his head and trying his best to be small and hide away. Because he was unrightfully- totally rightfully, it was a death game. A death game he did not sign up for- murdered. And now he's dead and seeing other versions of himself. It'd be a shock to anyone's system truly, and LL!Scar stares blindly as 3rd!Scar goes on a long babble, sitting down and petting one of the cats with a smile as he talks all about the local train in the area. A week later, the two have settled in and just exist. Because they're dead now and all they can really do is make the world more pretty.

This repeats for each one. After DL 3rd!Scar stops sleeping in the bed they keep spawning in, changing that room out to be more welcoming in a sense. After the mess that is DL, the one who somehow stays farther away from the "group" than LL did, the two give little concerned glances and raises of the eyebrow. That room has a big banner over the door reading "WELCOME TO SCARS FRONTEIR OUTPOST(AKA YOUR DEAD)", streamers hanging from the ceiling, and a red carpet added to the bottom. The entire room is restructured, and they add a chest full of essential items and a little note reading, "DISCONT FOR ONE SANDWICH!" and on the back it read all horribly scribbled out, "if youd like one more glorius sandwich, that will cost you one shoe!" DL got scammed through this, the two longer dead Scar's putting on smiles and demanding two diamonds for the amazing tour they gave the other. And somehow DL couldn't help the laugh that crackled from his chest, the others couldn't stop their snickers either.

SL and LL get along well, but either refuse to acknowledge why or talk about their past. Just when the other appears they connect.

LiL!Scar being like the youngest child. Definitely does the most pranks and gets along like a fire with everyone, but 3rd!Scar encourages his chaos. These two have definitely set off fireworks for fun on the anniversaries of their own deaths(LiL starting this tradition because he simply can. Bdubs and Cleo would've loved to see the pretty lights).

DL being the dramatic middle child... somewhere in there. He ends up being the most reserved even when LiL arrives. He's scared of making many connections and accepts his cats as his soulmates and his only friends. Said cats are also how the other two bring DL out of his shell. Making tons of the toys for the kitters and bonding over their equal love of the little guys.

They all deserve a little happiness in their endings somehow! A nice afterlife where they can thrive together and enjoy some bits of it after realizing they all aren't out to get each other, they're simply just... dead. Now all they have are the alternate universe also dead versions of themselves(this being pointed out over a campfire would make them snort).

[deadal3x]

Holding my pjo!persona out to tumblr specifically because they’re all sorts of weird and fucked up. (And I know yall eat that shit up like it’s a five course meal)

A lil list of things he’s been through/done/experienced:

tortured for a year on the princess andromeda and severely injured and assaulted

Is the victim of a groomer/pedophile

Is seen as as less than/sub human thanks to his abilities

is the child of a previous camp legend and is constantly living in her shadow trying to prove himself worthy

Gets claimed by a big 3 god and given a weapon that, technically is not his- but said god claims it is his by birthright.

Struggles with self-worth and identity as he discovers his heritage as a legacy of another god

Struggles to accept he’s loved in his relationship with two amazing men- who remind him endlessly and constantly and never get tired of saying it.

Is nearly killed several times in the worst ways possible. (Death by lethal injection, suffocation, drowning, stabbed, drowning again, there’s probably more but I lost count)

Is the biggest advocate for family and community despite everything he’s been put through. (He visits Hestia at the hearth once a damn week, he loves talking to her)

Puts his trust and faith in the camp and the demigods, rather than the gods and Olympus because they don’t know what it’s like being a demigod.

Is a serial adopter; will adopt the pathetic wet cat type demigods. Has does several times.

Loves his pets (an owl named Snickers, a dog named Diometes and two cats named Penelope and Telemachus respectively)

uses “it/its” pronouns because they feel comforting to it. (Also uses he/him and they/them pronouns)

Has lost SO MANY people he cares about.

He’s sooooo fucked up and such a strange cryptic thing.

he’s barely human anymore, but he tries and fights to regain his humanity and sense of belonging back.

PJO!sona AJ, you will always be famous to me

[applecandy14]

Did you know

Hidden by his clothes there are some scars?

Some are recent

Some have been there for years

Did you know

It doesn't even hurt?

It never really hurts, but there are tears

Have you seen the way he acts sometimes

And when you ask he'll say that he's okay

Have you seen how well he pretends

Laughs out loud, before he looks away

Never to know

Never to know

Never to know ......

[earmo-imni]

Man, I know I’ve got it bad when I’m reacting like this:

To this:

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

Hey :) i was the anon who asked if you're taking requests. This is a bit specific, so if you don't feel like writing this, that's totally fine. It's fun ghoul (in case you write for him, otherwise frank) x fem!reader (if that's okay). Reader has a few bigger scars on her face (from fighting some dracs or just general assholes) and is feeling pretty insecure about it. One day some people are making fun of her for it and her friend and crush Fun/Frank overhears and gets angry for her sake. She later asks him why he defended her so much, and he confesses he likes her?

You can probably guess who i am now, but I'll stay on anon anyway 😅 as I said, if you don't feel comfortable writing this, i totally get it. But I thought asking isn't hurting anyone.

Have a great week!

The World is Ugly (Frank Iero x reader)

Summary: Frank's best friend has had some pretty rough shit thrown at her by the universe recently, so he's delighted to see her out and about again. But when something happens that infuriates him completely, he's left with no choice but to reveal a secret he's been keeping for years...

Word count: 3689

Warnings: discussion of traumatic injury and facial scarring, people being assholes and making asshole-y comments

(y/n) pronouns: she/her 

AN: I really, really hope that I did this justice for you, sweet anon. While I don't have facial scars, I understand very well what it's like to have something about your body change very suddenly, and the struggle to adapt to that. I understand the pain, and the distress, and the wishes for things to go back to normal. But I promise you, you are still the person you were before. You are loved, and you are wonderful, and you are important.

Things do get better. It can take time, and it's very rarely a smooth process, but better is possible.

I believe in you <3

The mirrors in her apartment were still covered. 

With some of them, it was easy to invent an excuse. Oh, the one propped up against the wall with a button up thrown over the top half? Yeah, that’s just some laundry that I haven’t found the time to put away, and at least when it’s there I can’t trip over it. The little mirror on the desk covered by a tote bag? Well, it kept reflecting the sun in my eyes while I was working so it was just easier to do that. But others, it was harder to explain away. The bathroom mirror, certainly, was a tricky one to come up with something logical for. 

Realistically, everyone that visited knew exactly why they were hidden, just as much as (y/n) did. But nobody would even think about mentioning it. It was too soon, and she clearly needed time to acclimatise. Big changes had happened, and obviously she was still very firmly in the middle of the adjustment period. It was understandable, really. 

A traumatising incident that left significant facial scarring would be horrendous for anyone to deal with. 

She knew that, in time, she would have to accept the changes that had happened. The doctors had said that even once things had healed up fully, there would most likely still be some permanent marks. They had suggested some different things to try, types of creams and oils that could help make the lines less noticeable. But they had also been very clear - it was highly unlikely that her face would ever be quite the same again. Those scars would always be there in some capacity. 

Right now, thinking about that was far too much to bear. Which is why for now, for the forseeable future, the mirrors would remain shrouded. 

It was far more challenging to keep away from other people. Over the first couple of weeks, (y/n) had relied on her family and friends to shop and bring food home to her, simply unable to face the thought of going outside where strangers would be able to see. But cooping herself up inside was driving her insane. She missed the warmth of sunlight on her skin, the sensation of light rain dampening her hair. She missed the sound of dogs playing in the local park when she walked to the bookshop, and the shitty music that filled every store. She missed the smell of the bakery a few streets away, and the smile she always got from the pretty girl at the flower shop next door. She missed human existence. 

And so, staring at the empty carton of milk in her hand and the sparse leftovers in the fridge, she decided that she was going to go back to it. It would be difficult, obviously, but if she stuck to her old routines, she was sure she could manage. 

It was either this, or spend the rest of her life as a hermit. And she knew which idea she preferred. 

Thankfully, it was cool enough outside that (y/n) definitely needed a hoodie - the wind was disturbing the branches of the tree in the little shared garden of the apartment block, and the weather forecast promised rain later. Neither of those things were of vital importance to her; what mattered more was the fact that she would have an easy way to hide her face if needed. 

Going outside for the first time felt a little like being freed from prison. Her incarceration had been self inflicted, but the relief at liberation was a feeling any prisoner would understand. The feeling of the breeze against the new contours of her face, still very sensitive a week after the stitches had been removed, was bizarre. It felt like a cool finger was mapping them out: the one that crossed the bridge of her nose, the large one spanning her cheek, the places where scar tissue met hairline and lip and eyelid. Had she looked at her reflection, she would likely have been pleasantly surprised; none of the scars were as thick as they felt, and they already appeared to be healing fairly smoothly. Scars often feel far worse than they look, and getting used to the idea of their presence is half the battle. But of course, she wasn’t ready for that just yet. Healing takes time, of course. And baby steps were better than no steps at all. 

Her first stop was the bakery; bravery deserved a reward, and just getting past the foyer of the apartment building had taken a huge amount of guts, let alone getting this far. The teenager behind the counter had beamed when she went in, already reaching for her regular shopping. 

“Hey, it’s been far too long! I almost thought you’d been stolen away by that place down the road. Still going for the same stuff?” 

The fact that they hadn’t even commented on her face, simply looking pleased to see her, almost made her tear up. “Yeah, the usual is good with me. Throw a couple of those doughnuts in as well though, please. It’s been... a rough couple of weeks.”

As they took her money and handed over the bag, their smile softened. “Those doughnuts are on the house today. We, uh... we heard what happened. And we’ve all missed seeing our favourite customer, so... it’s nice to have you back.” 

Just about managing to croak out a ‘thanks’ before saying goodbye, promising to be back in again soon, she left. The tears that threatened to fall were happy ones. To have someone treat her just like an ordinary person was all she had wanted. Things were off to a far better start than she’d imagined. 

The next place she wanted to go was the coffee shop - because making her own was just far too much effort, quite honestly, but the number of people in there made her pause for a moment. There’d only been one other customer in the bakery, and he’d spent the entire time engrossed in a YouTube video while eating his way through a bag of mini cheese pastries. The cafe, in comparison, was pretty much packed. 

A familiar grinning face appeared in her line of sight, and the sound of Frank’s voice snapped her out of her little reverie. 

“Hey, if it isn’t my favourite person in the whole wide world! Good seeing you, sweet cheeks. You doing okay?” 

She nodded, pulling a slight face and desperately trying to ignore the way that her heart rate had picked up at the sight of him. “Yeah, I’m... alright, I think. I was just...” 

Having known (y/n) since the two of them were eight years old, Frank understood every one of her little expressions. Every thought and concern in her mind was clear to him. He held out a hand, smiling softly when she tucked herself against his side. He stroked her waist the way he always had done when one of them was feeling down, both of them comforted by the gentle repetitive motions. No matter the situation, being in each other’s presence was often enough to settle their emotions and bring a little clarity to their thoughts. 

“How about I pay for the coffee this time? I’m pretty sure I owe you a few cups anyway, after the last few trips out, so why don’t I get you this one?” 

“That would be nice, yeah...” The hesitation in her voice was blatantly obvious, and he squeezed her just a little tighter. 

“Hey, it’s just you and me. Coffee. We’ll get it to go, and then go sit in the park and stare at all the cute dogs for a while. Sound good?” 

She didn’t even need to look at him to know he was doing those infamous puppy-dog eyes again; it was a look he’d developed decades ago, and it worked on pretty much everyone. No matter who he used them on or what he wanted, whenever he broke them out things were basically guaranteed to go his way. He dropped his bottom lip for added effect, and she felt her heart do a somersault. She was just as under his spell as everyone else was. Well, probably more so.

“Oh, go on then. Only because you’re paying.” 

Grinning, he grabbed her by the hand and led her inside, joining the end of the rather long queue as he filled her in on what had been going on with the band since they’d last seen each other. Frank had been one of the people to bring stuff round to her flat in the days after she’d come home from the hospital, but they hadn’t had a proper conversation during that time. She’d been so worried about what he’d think of the way she looked now that she hadn’t wanted him to see, hadn’t wanted to give him the chance to say something. But so far, he was treating her exactly like he had always done. If she had more time to think into that fact, it would probably upset her all over again: she was desperately hoping for the day that he turned around and told her that he needed more, that he loved her too much to just be her friend. For now, though, normal was enough. Normal was what she needed. 

In between Frank’s rambles on what the band’s latest project was shaping up to be and the bursts of noise from the coffee machine, soft whispers were starting to worm their way into her ears. At first, she desperately hoped she was imagining it, but no - people were definitely talking about her. 

A little boy was tugging on his dad’s sleeve. “Daddy, what’s wrong with that lady’s face?” 

On the next table over, a grandmother was shushing a set of twins. "It's rude to stare, no matter what people look like. Now keep your voices down."

But far worse than innocent childish curiosity were the reactions from the older customers in the shop. Grown adults were sneaking sideways glances at her before turning back to their friends, making almost silent comments and hiding sneers behind their fingers. Some were openly staring, mouths agape and eyes wide.

Feeling the new tension in her shoulders, Frank squeezed her hand, leaning in to murmur against the side of her head. "You doing okay?"

"I... people are saying things. I can tell."

"I know, sweet cheeks. Please don't pay attention to it - I know that's really hard, but we won't be in here much longer. Look, there's only one more person in front of us. Then we can go hang out with the puppies. And those puppies will give you all the love you deserve, okay?"

Managing a nod, (y/n) relaxed a little as they reached the counter, concentrating on the way her best friend's eyes sparkled when he smiled and thanked the barista. She often thought that she could look at him forever - that those eyes, that face, would look perfectly at home in a work of classical art. He was just flawless.

The technique of focusing on the tiniest details of his features worked. She kept her mind occupied with his miniscule freckles, ridiculously pretty eyelashes, the way his hair curled slightly around his ears. He filled her brain entirely, chasing all the negatives away.

Until they turned to leave.

Half way through the queue was a group of teenage boys - and they were staring at her in sheer disgust. Noticing this, Frank shifted so that he would be walking closest to them, doing the best he could to shield her from view. But of course, that couldn't stop them talking.

"Ew, gross."

"What's wrong with the Joker over there?"

"If I looked like that, I wouldn't ever let other people see me."

"Damn, I hope she stays away from kids. That shit's scary."

Very calmly, Frank stopped and handed (y/n) his coffee. "Would you hang onto this for a second, cupcake? I'm about to have my hands full." And as she took it from him, he grabbed the tallest of the group by the collar and dragged him down to look him in the eyes. "You dare speak about her that way one more time - you even THINK something like that about her - and I'll make your face look more fucked up than it already is. You all wanna talk about ugly, go take a look in a mirror. And if you don't like the idea of no longer having your balls attached to you, you'll apologise. Right this instant."

Recognising the man who was threatening them, all four boys blanched, huddling together and barely stuttering out something vaguely like an apology. Arms folded across his chest, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds, but (y/n)'s hand against his upper back made his temper settle marginally. He turned back, and the sight of her trembling very nearly made him launch at the boys again. But the rational part of his mind took over, making it very clear that the best thing to do was just get out of there. And so with one final glare at the offending morons, he led her out to the street.

"Do you wanna go to the park, or do you want me to take you home?"

Taking a deep, faltering breath, she sniffled. "Home. Please."

"Your wish is my command, sweet cheeks. Come on. Let's go."

The walk back to her place was short, but they spent it in silence. He desperately wanted to say something to her, but knew that now just wasn't the right time. Over the years, he'd learned that quiet was the best thing for her until she decided to speak. Pushing conversation too far only ever made the situation even worse.

(y/n) was mute until the two of them were comfortably situated in her living room, sat at opposite ends of the tiny sofa as they sipped at their coffees.

"Thank you for being there."

"Hey, I'm always gonna be there for you. Every time. You could be stuck at the top of Mount Everest and I'd still make it up there to kick some ass if you needed me to."

She snorted, setting her drink down. "You hate the cold."

"That wasn't my point, and you know it." He rolled his eyes, kicking at her feet. "Those kids were total assholes. Half of me wants to go back there and kick their asses all the way into the next century."

"I'm glad you didn't actually do anything, I don't want you getting arrested for me. I’m not worth that much effort.” 

“You absolutely are. To me, you always have been. And you always will be. You're the most important person to me in the whole world.” 

His expression shifted a little, and (y/n) could read him like a book. The prevailing thought in his mind was panic. Clearly, he hadn’t intended to say that in quite that way. And that just made her want to dig a little deeper. 

“Frank... what are you saying?” 

“I just- well, I care about you, obviously. You’re my best friend, of course you’re worth it.” 

“No, that’s not it. I can tell.” 

“I swear, it’s-” 

“Please. Just tell me. I... I need you to be honest with me, okay? I can't keep worrying about the way everyone sees me now. I can't keep worrying that you don't see me the same.” 

He seemed to flounder for a moment before coming to the realisation that this time, he wasn’t going to get away with some flimsy excuse. She was far too clever for that. It had to be everything, raw and unfiltered and straight from the soul. “I’m saying that I love you. More than I could ever possibly describe. You came into my life scrawling smiley faces and animals on my arms in permanent marker, and you wrote yourself into my heart at the same time. I’ve never had eyes for anyone else - it was always an act. Every time someone asked, I’d choose a person at random so nobody would find out it was you. I couldn’t face the thought of losing you if you found out how I really felt. Hell, half my tattoos are based on something I remember about you, something you drew or said or made me laugh about. You are just... everything. Perfection. The sweetest soul this hellhole of a society has ever seen. I'm pretty sure I've loved you forever. That I was born to love you.” 

She could feel the tears catching at the patches of new skin on her face, but couldn’t find it in herself to care about the bizarre sensation. This was what she’d been waiting to hear since she was thirteen. “How... how long has it been? Really, how long?” 

“Um... well, thinking about it... since we were, like, ten. Maybe even before that, but that's probably when I started to notice it.” 

“And you...” She trailed off for a second, trying to think of how best to phrase things. “Even now that I look like this?” 

Frank practically threw himself across the couch and hugged her as tightly as he possibly could, burying his face into her shoulder as he let all of his thoughts out. “You’ve always been beautiful to me. Always. Even when you let your mom cut your hair when you were nine and the bangs were all wonky. Even that time you tried to dye your hair without any help and it went that weird shade of green. Oh, and the time you accidentally shaved off a whole eyebrow so you had to get rid of both, and you could never draw them both the same. Every art class where you ended up with multicolour freckles, and never remembered to wash them off before coming to lunch. Those hideous fake glasses you wore for a year because you were convinced they looked cool. I’ve seen you in every state imaginable, and I’ve never stopped loving you. I've seen you delirious with the flu, unable to walk because you were so hung over, greasy and tangled after not showering for a week. There are so many brilliant, unique things about you. And even if they aren't always things you like, they're still special. These scars are just another special part of you that we can both get to know.” 

Scoffing a little, (y/n) extricated herself from his grip and shuffled back, arms folded over her chest. “They’re not special, they’re awful.” 

Understanding that she needed a little space, he settled for resting a hand on her arm. “Hey. You’re allowed to hate them, you know? It’s totally okay that you do. I just really need you to know that I don’t. I could never hate any part of you, and that includes them.” 

“But I’m not the same.” Her voice cracked a little, and she sniffled, determined not to break down. “I don’t... feel like I’m me any more.” 

“I get that. It’s a big change, and it’s one that’s gonna take time to get used to. But I promise, it doesn’t make a difference to the person that you are inside. And it doesn’t make a difference in the way I feel about you.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because a life without you is not one I’m interested in living. Every second I’m without you, it feels like my soul is waiting for the rest of it to come back. You are everything to me.” 

He sounded so confident in his words, the honesty practically seeping from his pores, and she knew him well enough to know that he was telling the truth. He really did mean every word he’d said. And that was enough to start the flow of tears again. She didn’t resist as he took her back into his arms, kissing softly across her hairline as she melted against him. 

“I’m sorry. I- that was a lot. If you don’t feel, you know, quite the same way I do, then that’s-” 

Frank found himself unable to speak mid-sentence; (y/n)’s lips were locked against his own, and all he could do was kiss her back. They were both a little breathless when they broke apart, and she jabbed a warning finger into his chest. 

“Don’t you dare apologise. I’ve thought about kissing you, probably since I was twelve. Every date I ever went on, I wished it was you. I spent so many nights laying there in the dark wishing I was brave enough to say something, so I wouldn’t have to watch you with other people any more. I don’t think it’d be possible for me to ever love someone else as much as I love you.” 

Those last three words left them both in silence for a moment, overwhelmed by the enormity of what they’d both just confessed. And then, (y/n) started to giggle. He eyed her curiously. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Well,” she shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I just... that’s not exactly how I imagined our first kiss to go, that’s all.” 

He snorted, stroking gently at the spot where the largest of her scars disappeared into her hair. “Yeah, I don’t think I pictured it like that either. It-it was good though, wasn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely not complaining.” 

“I mean, we could always... do it again? Just so, you know, we’re sure we’re doing it properly.” 

The little glint in his eyes made her heart flip, and she nuzzled against him. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Good. Because now it’s happened once, I plan on kissing you for the rest of your life. I’ve imagined doing it for so long, there’s no way I’m letting you slip through my fingers again. I hope you’re okay with that, sweet cheeks.” 

As his lips brushed against hers, feather light and tasting of sheer desperation, she just about managed to answer before he took her breath away completely. “I’m sure I can cope with that.” 

[bcneheaded]

ALSO IDK IF I SHARED ELDCN R/NG STUFF but that is my current obsession so i

her name is Cyg (Cygnatratus,,, bc i am ,,, a nerd,,,, and like to make things Mean Things [a play on how the dragons names work! her name is a mixture of words that means 'black swan' essentially jfjfjfhd]) she's a prisoner subclass (and all that comes w it yea) and a draconian <3 playing heavily in the dragon blood thing, wants to purify her blood or whatever jfsdfhsdjf idek!! if thats possible but she sure as hell wants to try (probably why she was imprisoned all those years ago,,, smthng to do with her seeking some kind of forbidden power) ANYWAY she's a little Havoc Wreaking gremlin who did NOT need the flame of ambition at all but now she has it and she's never been so terrifyingly Laser Focused on power FDGFDG anyway tldr, as a good friend of mine once said..... We support women's rights and women's wrong here... she just happens to have a lot of Wrongs

[silverselfshippingchaos]

i hate s.eifer a.lmasy so much

[ceolocunt]

[shiredded]

Happy father's day!

This poll is about estranged fathers. If you are not estranged, congrats! You all get to share one answer.

Good lord! This sure did go. I'll answer some confusion as best I can.

This is a poll about estranged fathers. I'm interested in the timelines of people who don't talk to their dads.

Because I am interested in estranged fathers, I basically categorized everyone who is NOT estranged into one answer. If you have spoken within the last few hours or weeks: congratulations! You are within normal relationship parameters.

If it's been more than a month, something odd may be going on, especially if your culture normally observes father's day. After a year, it's definitely not normal.

If you want to be more specific within that month, make a poll, it's fine! No need to get mad, go hug your dad!

The results (aside from the volume holy shit) are pretty much what i expected: the vast majority of people are not estranged. Within that, some love their dad, some do not. But I don't personally care how recent contact was if it was within the last month.

I'm not trying to make a commentary about how fathers are all awful and everyone should reject them. I'm not an authority on dads either.

I am not "everyone" and I am not "tumblr"

I'm literally just a guy.

There's no goal here to try to fill every slot evenly, nor a message that you should.

Not every poll is all inclusive, and not every poll is about you.

For those who it is about, I see you. Father's day is weird for us, especially when surrounded by people who like their dads. We are rare in the grand scheme of things, and that's a good thing. But estrangement is about loneliness, either ours or his.

It's raw for some of us, an old scar for others, and for me: a turning point in life where everything started to get better. A year becomes two, a decade another, and someone who consumed your life becomes a part of the past so distant you stop remembering it so well.

We may not have dads, but we have each other.

[bi-writes]

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Simon taking care of you when you accidentally injured yourself. Just fluff cuz I need fluff :D .

cw: pet names (princess, love etc.)

“Simon, I’m home!”

You opened the front door, only to see Simon sitting on the couch. Hearing your voice, he raised his head from the book he was infatuated with these days, and a low hum left him as a welcome.

“I’ll go shower first, the weather’s hot as hell, and I’m stink.”

You tossed the key onto the plate, nonchalantly passed your lover, but Simon could sense the difference in your movements.

“Stop.”

He stood up from the couch, and came straight towards you.

Oh no, you’re so fucked up.

“Hey, Si! I’m dirty! put me down!”

Simon ignored your yelling, scooping you up and over his shoulder.

“Don’t move.”

He demanded, and you swallowed hard when he grabbed your left ankle, and lifted the trouser legs.

“You’re hiding this from me?” His coffee-like brown eyes narrowed in disapproval, throwing you daggers while all you could do was let out a sigh.

“Sorry, Simon. Don’t want to concern you.”

Crooking his eyebrow, Simon darted his eyes back to observe the wound on your left calf. A long, deep cut went across half of your flesh, blood just managed to stop dripping, and fortunately didn’t stick your injury to the clothes.

“Where do you get this?”

“The parking lot of the market. Didn’t see a rock and stumble over it, and the pin sticking out of a wall dug into my leg when I tried to steady myself.” You shrugged.

You knew he was worried and hated to see you get hurt, that’s why you try to sneak to the bathroom and deal with it yourself. Simon’s eyes softened when he learned how you get yourself injured, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t allow you to do things alone for at least a week.

“let’s go shower.” He picked you up swiftly as if you weighed nothing, and you just melted into his touch.

“You gonna help me?” Even though you knew the answer, you still asked when he strode to the bathroom.

“You think there’s other options?”

“... No.”

“Good Girl.” planting a kiss on your forehead, he kicked open the door.

“Close your eyes, don’t want to sting them, love.”

Your satisfied grumble when his hands attentively scratched your head made Simon chuckle. He put you in the warm bathtub, and the little chair looked comical under his bulky stature, but you didn’t laugh at him this time, instead focusing on his hands.

His hands, working magically through your hair, carefully not to tug your hair with too much strength. The hands that always protect you, the hands that are littered with scars, soaked with blood, but massage your shoulders when you are tired, shuffle your hair when you playfully argue with him, place on your belly when he hugs you from behind and whispered his affection to you.

He reserved all his tenderness to you, and you wondered why you were lucky enough to have this man as yours.

“Told you to close your eyes, love.”

You smiled when Simon finally discovered you had been staring at him from the start.

“Am I not allowed to watch my beautiful husband?”

“Don’t complain when the sud run into those pretty eyes then.” He huffed out a laugh.

When it came to you, he just couldn’t do anything but surrender to your adorable cheekiness. He thought when he couldn’t help but give your cheek a peck.

You sat on the edge of your bed now. Simon had dry your hair, and made you put on your underwear and his black shirt.

He was kneeling in front of you now, picking through the gauze and disinfectant. He seemed to find all the things he needed. Placing them aside, he took your ankle in his hand again.

“It’ll hurt a bit.”

He traced circles on your thigh to soothe the pain when he sprayed the antiseptic on your wound and waited for it to dry.

“You’re doing well, love. We’re almost finished.”

He cooed when he saw you blinked away a tear hanging on the corner of your eye.

Nodding, you watched him cover the wound with gauze and secure it.

“Thank you, Si.”

You chanted softly when his thumb caressed on the tape. Simon didn’t let go of your ankle when you thanked him, but landed a kiss beside the gauze.

“A spell for faster healing” The childish glints in his eyes were obvious when he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Don’t know you’re such a romantic person, baby.” You poke his cheek with a laugh.

“Guess there’s more of me yet for you to figure out.

He threw the bottles back into the medkit, and finally stood up after kneeling for ten minutes.

“Anything you want now, princess?”

“cuddle with me, Simon. The wound hurts.”

“Who’s the one trying to hide it thirty minutes ago?”

Lying on your back on the bed, his blonde hair shined under the light, but not brighter than the languid smirk he wore on his lips.

“Are you saying you don’t want to cuddle with me now?”

“Are there other options?”

“of course not, handsome.” You worm yourself into the comforter, and beckoned him to join you.

Slump down on the bed, he wiggled himself into his usual cuddling posture, arms snaked around your waist, and covered your belly with his palm.

“Anything for you, love.” You felt he kissed the shell of your ear when your eyes closed under the coziness.