#tw; scars

[dragetunge]

TW: SCARS AND TATTOOS HEADCANON (DONT STEAL OR REBLOG)

MAJOR POINTS OF INTEREST: Six identical scars , three on each side of Hiccup's waist to the top of his hips from Toothless' claws during his descent into the flames during the battle of the Green Death.

Faint Lichtenberg marks from being struck by lightning on more than one occasion.

Bite marks and various scratches from rough housing with Toothless or playing with smaller dragons.

Scar under night fury tattoo from a sword piercing through in a fight for life or death with an enemy.

Various faint to darker burns from smithing.

**BACKSIDE HEADCANON , FRONT VIEW TO COME SOON**

[cinnamontoastcoreyart]

This tool longer than I would like.

[ivyxmantled]

[ TENSION ]  one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact,  lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s.  (daemyra)

They both had scars, even if Rhaenyra had yet to see HIS, she could only assume from his battle with their nephew. But she had scars from some of her worst burns, some along her shoulders, some along her upper legs, some along the back of her neck, but the worst tended to lay along her torso, and her stomach. The ones... that after a warm day outside in the Los Angeles sun, had her sinking into a cold bath in order to sooth her warm skin. She had never, EVER reveleaed this to Daemon one of the many reasons she had yet to turn herself over to her husband since they had arrived here, as much as she would want to, she knew it would simply fill him with complete and utter anger as many moments of her demise had, but when he had come in to her getting dressed... she felt, almost embarassed as they had now been sitting on the floor of their bedroom, lips crashed together. “I’m sorry, I never showed you.” She choked out. “Once I realized they were here? I never felt beautiful enough to show you.” She choked out. 

@bcssbitchs​

[warriorsbutnotreally]

bisexual brightheart mayhaps? (:

she <3

[sakurarisen]

εїз !

Send εїз for an unimplemented HC!

Sera's scars, spread around the fronts of her shoulders and trailing some up towards the tops, are actually pretty ugly. For the most part, they're jagged and several have healed rather poorly, seeing some of the scars combine into one mess while others look like valleys surrounded by mountain ranges - Very few have properly healed, resembling something akin to cat scratches, a result of infection having set in after the injuries had been inflicted. Though it's hard to tell just how many are actually there due to the combining and overall difficulty of the healing process, there's at least 18 to 20 scars there, and Sera does her best to keep them covered up and hidden until the birth of her son, Shayan.

She's not about to tell anyone how she gained these scars, but those who know why she replies with a bright smile constantly tinged with sadness and pain are quick to change topics for her, or to come up with some kind of cover story in her stead, much to her constant thanks. They come from a dark point in her life she wishes to never discuss outside of those she trusts above all else, and if they were easy to ignore, she would.

...But unfortunately, life is rarely that kind. With the scars spread out, from either side of her neck out to the edges of her shoulders, they regularly cause issues for her when it comes to lifting her arms, using her bow, and even shrugging; any use of her shoulders past lifting her arms about halfway runs the risk of causing discomfort and even a bit of pain due to the skin being tight around the larger and uglier of the scars, and activities like drawing her bow cause aches without fail - Aches she has long since taught herself to ignore and put out of her mind. Those aware of these issues will receive a shrug when questioning her about it, if they notice any small flinches or sighs, and an excuse; She's not about to burden them with something she can't do anything about, and had leaned how to deal with them, either by icing them, a heat pack, or just taking some time to rest, the later of which is hard to do when the weather is poor and irritates all kinds of aches, not just her shoulders.

The primary reason why this is being counted as unimplemented is because it's new - Sera has always had these shoulder scars, and the reason behind them, which I won't go into here for a multitude of reasons, has not changed. What has changed, though, is how they look and how they've healed and affect her; reading about another character's scarring in another series (unrelated to anything I have on blog here, or on ANY of my blogs) has made me realize I didn't put enough thought into how her scars would have healed and present themselves now, especially given she received them around the age of 12, long before she was done growing, and they were infected due to her recovery and living conditions at the time. There was no possible way they were going to heal into essentially cat scratch looking scars and be perfectly fine given the conditions they were 'healing' under. i needed to rehaul their appearance and effect on Sera - And this was the result, so it won't be 'unimplemented' for too much longer, I just need to figure out how to word it in her carrd. <3

[sirenetica]

Session Six

[cephalocrow]

Kids who grew up

[daiwild]

changing room mishap

Kons a lil confused but he will ALWAYS get pissed at bad guys hurting his friends

[to00fu]

vampy

[pakchoys]

boy with the hand shaped scar

[dragetunge]

What is the reason behind hiccups scars being pink?

The deeper the scar the deeper the color. Not so deep scars usually turn white to indicate and injury for example Hiccup's face scar where Cloudjumper nicked him. Its white because it wasn't a deep injury.

So because of a deeper injury the more color remains showing the healing process.

[todoslosdiasdemivida]

“i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.”

@tlacehualli

When he hears the door open, he can't even bring himself to be overly concerned. Somebody potentially here to put an end to his misery? By all means. He doesn't have the energy or presence of mind at the moment to care.

[ Once upon a time, he thought his bouts of sickness couldn't be any worse. Everything hurt, and his own body had almost done him in more than a couple of times. How unfortunate that he knows better now, because now is so much worse. Now had somehow amplified and perfected the suffering in which then had indulged. ]

When the bed shifts at his back, he still can't quite make himself care enough to turn or to move the blanket from over his head, at least until his visitor speaks.

He really should give Sombra more credit than he does.

Not many would have the audacity to enter his quarters, and certainly not when he's made a point of not leaving all day. Yet, here she is, and he supposes that the sheer gall deserves some sort of effort. [ No matter how much it hurts. Literally. ]

Slowly, he turns toward where she is, a sickening cough and a miserable groan following the action.

"Just don't… hold… your breath," he manages between unsteady breaths of his own.

[todayontumblr]

Friday, January 5.

Farewell little friend. (tw: pet death)

This is a tough one, y'all. We are deeply saddened at the news that Jellie, the most beloved and beautiful cat of @GoodTimesWithScar, has passed away, aged 17-and-a-half years. But we are also gladdened to see the community band together in support of Scar—and pay poignant tribute to this sweetest little pal. 

Hugs to Scar, and to all y'all, too.

@crunchesloudly

[frejs-froggy-artblog]

More sidlink because I have the power to draw it

[woundposting]

wound, eroticism and subjectivity

the holy wound, attributed to jean le noir / the incredulity of saint thomas, guercino / the body of signification, elizabeth grosz (in: abjection, melancholia, and love: the works of julia kristeva) / hannibal nbc / the incredulity of saint thomas, caravaggio / saint catherine drinks the blood of christ, francesco vanni / the body of signification, elizabeth grosz / crash, david cronenberg / side wound of christ (england, 15th century) / the terror amc / the terror of pleasure: the contemporary horror film and postmodern theory, tania modleski (in: the horror reader)

[pileofmush]

luffy is for the sad, pathetic, touch-starved bitches. the ones who shiver at the mere brush of skin. who wince whenever their friends go in for hugs, unsure of where to put their arms. the ones who are so, so aware of their proximity to others. so careful not to brush fingers when walking side to side with a peer, or when handing a pencil to a friend, because they’re sure that one affectionate squeeze of the arm could leave their innards a puddle at their feet, creeping toward the nearest drain.

when you meet luffy, you think he’s one to be admired, not touched. you see the way he infects everyone around him with his reckless abandon. hanging off shoulders and dragging people to and fro. his crewmates are used to it. they scoff and wiggle under his weight for show: for there’s a sense of relief when monkey d. luffy has his eyes on you. you can tell in the automatic decompression of their shoulders, in the languid way they turn to him—saplings curving toward the sun. 

you see it, and you envy it. respect it. respect him. but that’s the extent of your thoughts on the matter.

you never considered that he would turn his sights on you. 

but he does. 

he picks you up like you’re something shiny, holds you up to the light and squints. and whatever he finds must be satisfying, because after that, he doesn’t put you down. 

it overwhelms you, at first. he tugs on your cheek at the sight of a frown, like you’re the one made of rubber, and your heart does a funny jig that’s actually not funny at all. he pokes you in the ribcage to grab your attention, and ignores you when you try to tell him that a verbal cue would work just as well. he grabs your hand, instinctively twining your fingers, and pulls you along when you stop in your tracks.

and you feel—you feel like a puddle. be careful your mind warns, or you’ll slip.

but luffy’s there to catch you when you fall.

and that’s what’s so terrible about him, you think. he’s the question and the answer. 

and he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

how foolish of him to touch you so casually and expect you not to revel in it. not to crave his pokes and his prods more than you crave air. how foolish of him to drape himself over you like a weighted blankie and not expect you to desire him by your side, always, to keep the cold at bay. he’s a fool and you’re a pauper.

but, sometimes, you think he knows what he does to you. he has to. oh, how he’ll laugh when he catches you staring at his hands. bound over until he’s right in front of you, place a thumb under your chin and tilt until your gaze meets his. his eyes are dark, but so, so bright. you want to look away. you don’t. 

everything is so easy for him. it's unnerving. he plops his head in your lap one day with a carefree grin. you still—hold your breath like a child playing hide and seek. he cracks open an eye, like he can read your thoughts. or maybe he can just feel you tremble.

“what’s wrong?”

you rack your brain for an answer he could understand. “what do you want me to do?” you hedge. 

luffy furrows his brows. “whatever you want,” he says.

“no, i mean—where do you want me to touch?” 

he shrugs. “wherever you want.”

and you feel—you feel like you want to run your hands over every inch of his skin until you have a mental map of his body you could navigate through touch alone. you want to put him in your mouth. you want to inhale him like a drug, want him to burn the back of your throat 'til it stings. you want… him. 

you settle for caressing his jawline. tracing the slope of his nose. his eyes flutter shut, and you pause, but he grabs your hand and plants it firmly on his face. and it feels, it feels like you’re the question and he’s the answer. it feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with becoming a puddle of a person, for him.