#Blemish Healing Patches

[celluheal]

CelluGlow™ skincare solutions designed to promote clear, healthy skin. From hydrocolloid pimple patches to future skincare innovations, our products target acne, blemishes, and impurities for fast healing and long-lasting results. Experience science-backed skincare focused on regeneration and skin vitality for all skin types.

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + dressing you in white

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, heavy pet/master dynamic, toxic relationship (condescension), blood + blood eating, slight gore, fem!reader words: 1.8k

alastor exclusively dresses you, his precious little pet, in white—white linen dresses, white silk pjs, white cotton undies—and you’ve finally figured out why.

“Alright, uh,” Charlie’s finger flicks the worn cardboard spinner in her hands, watching as the arrow lands on a splotch of colour. “Right hand, red!”

You’re in the parlour when it happens—a sudden, sharp pain that sears through your ribs as you bend over, a reactive hiss spit from between gritted teeth. 

“Whats’a matter?” Angel teases, panting slightly. “Too short to reach your colour?” 

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Angel’s long limbs easily twist to obey the most recent order, both of his right hands finding red circles on the crinkled plastic mat.

“No, I just—”

“Holy shit!” his gasp cuts you off, all amusement eradicated from his face, dissolved by concerned shock. “You’re bleeding!” 

“What?” 

Glimpsing down at your body, your eyes are drawn toward the rapidly developing blot of scarlet, steadily seeping through white linen—a gruesome petal, irregular edges spreading, slow but ceaseless, eating away at the fabric.

A gurgle of disquiet sounds from the couch, voices tangling together, dulled to your ears as your gaze finds your Master’s. 

But he doesn’t meet your stare. 

Unblinking crimson eyes are focused on the flowering patch of blood, beginning to mottle as specks bloom around it. His chest rises and falls with even little huffs of air, ebony pupils gnawing at his irises as they devour the sight, his fingers twitching on his knee. Your gaze drifts back to the smeared blemish, the softest whimper dripping from your lips.

It’s beautiful. 

Alastor was right; your blood does look ravishing against the crisp bright fabric—stark but artful, a miniature abstract piece being painted in real time as the substance transudes the linen, created by your body and his, together. 

Now you understand; there is a reason why Alastor always dresses you in white. Especially when the abrasions he leaves have a nasty tendency to split and spill out. 

Entranced, your fingers press around the sensitive flesh, feeling the open wound hollowed by your dress and staining your skin with a glittering crimson, a sharp breath sucked through the gaps of your teeth, flashes of speared agony radiating through the surrounding flesh.

Your sound of pain seems to snap Alastor from his revere, blinking twice as he comes back to himself, smile stretching wider with something sinister, worming between razored teeth.

“All right,” Alastor’s saying as he stands from the couch, bravado ringing strong and clear and firm over the chatter. “I’ll take care of this.” 

“Are you sure? That looks, uh—”

“Why is she bleeding in the first place?” 

“Alastor, maybe we should—”

“Come, pet.” Alastor disregards the chorus of concerned comments without sparing them a glance, holding an arm out to you in invitation.

Then you’re scampering to his side, instant, instinctive, allowing him to curve around you protectively, guiding you away from a collection of worried faces with a palm plastered over the injury. 

“I told you not to play,” Alastor admonishes in a singsong while he guides you through the threshold of his bedroom

Leaning into him, you nestle your cheek against his ribs, catlike, hiding the blurry disappointment nipping at your eyes.

“But I wanted to.” 

“You should’ve known better,” he chides, but his voice is tender, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder as he ushers you into his bathroom, depositing you on the rim of the clawfoot tub. “Your injuries are not fully healed yet.” 

Your injuries are never fully healed, you want to point out. He is constantly engraving new cuts, scrapes, slashes, bites into you; there is never a moment where your body is not stained with Alastor in some way.

“I thought they’d be okay,” you say instead, forehead scrunched in petulance. 

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Who knew a game of Twister could be so strenuous,” you mutter to yourself, bottom lip wavering on the edge of a pout. 

He snorts out a titter, mean and scoffing as his fingers pick through the first aid kit. “For such a smart little girl, you can be really stupid sometimes, can’t you?”

“What?”

But he refuses to elaborate, continuing on as if you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Clearly, Master cannot allow you to make decisions for yourself,” he teases, but his tone holds a twinge of sincerity, a vow of certainty. 

This is the last time you’ll be making a decision on your own for a long time. 

“Arms up.” 

Immediately, you comply, arms held straight over your head, Alastor’s hands curling in the hem of your dress and pulling it from your body in one swift, fluid motion. 

It stings, the linen of the dress ripped harshly from the steadily weeping wound it had been clinging to, a yelp cracking in your throat. 

A halfhearted hush falls from your Master’s lips as he carefully drapes the soiled dress over the rim of the tub, taking a moment to admire the stain. A finger traces around the blotch almost affectionately, a tender sigh exhaled out his nose. Then his palms are finding your legs, pushing them apart and sinking to his knees, wedging himself between your spread thighs. 

“All right, let Master see,” he murmurs, shoulders hunched a little as he becomes eye level with the gash, your spine straightening to present the tear to him. 

Hesitant fingers prod at the surrounding flesh, now smeared with dried blood, inspecting the damage. 

“You ripped open every single stitch,” Alastor chuckles quietly, his fingers tugging at the bordering skin and watching with macabre awe as the wound gapes open beneath the pressure, a thick torrent of blood oozing out. 

A whine that sounds suspiciously close to his title sticks in your throat, half-stifled by your clenched teeth, and he looks up at you, sadistic amusement glimmering in his eyes. 

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” His fingertips press down on the tender flesh, now slick with blood, and shove together, completely sealing the wound, another cascade of crimson spilling past the seam. 

“Master!” you cry out, fingers clamping over his shoulders to steady yourself, nails scraping against cotton. 

 The force of his touch increases, claws nearly sinking into the torn slash. “Answer my question.”

“Yes!” you choke out, head nodding in quick little motions. “Yes, it hurts.” 

A soft hum vibrates at the back of his throat, sharp teeth hidden behind a wide, close-lipped smile. Leaning forward, he plants his tarnished hands on your thighs for stability, then runs his nose along the top of the cut, inhaling one deep breath, his entire ribcage expanding as his chest swells with it. 

He stops, holds the scent in his lungs for a moment, lets it ferment into something sick and foul, lets it steep in the tissues and infuses them with you, before finally exhaling, the rush of air frigid against the bleeding gash.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into the blood. “So fucking delicious.”

Tongue unfurling from his mouth, he traces, slow and cautious, around the edges of the wound with the tip, turning rusted blood watery and faded, grotesque streaks painted across your flesh. A noise claws at his throat, desperate to get out as he shoves it back down, tongue flattening over the slit and dragging, measured and meticulous, slick muscle soaking up the percolating blood.

“Alastor,” you nearly moan, dainty fingers curling around his antlers, the sudden touch evoking a growl from deep within his chest. 

“Let your Owner clean it,” he spits against the injury, lips brushing it again, voice muffled by your skin. 

And so, you do—because you’re nothing if not an obedient little pet girlfriend for your Owner, back arching as you press your ribs into his mouth, offering yourself up to him.

He laves over the laceration three more times, glazing it in a protective layer of his saliva, glimmering in the light with each of your shallow breaths. 

“Better,” he breathes, the word nothing more than a wisp of air against the wet cut, chills skittering across your flesh. 

“Th-Thank you, Master,” you whisper, fingers tugging on his antlers a little, desperate to get him closer. “I—It felt nice.” 

Crimson eyes flick up, his gaze veiled by heavy lids as he laps at his lips, cleaning them of excess blood, some of it streaked along his chin. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful he looks coloured in strokes of you. 

Hips twitching a little, your thighs tense around his torso, and he looks down again, eyes honing in on the drenched lace between your legs, panties molding to your cunt and accentuating every dip, every bump, every contour. 

He chuckles at the sight—something dark, something decadent, something demeaning melting on his tongue. 

“Well,” he pants softly to himself, pride tweaking the edges of his smile. “Would you look at that.” 

A finger traces the outline of your cunt—over your hood, along your lips, circling your hole and just barely pressing into it, watching with a morbid fascination the way it flutters against his finger, delicate material dipping, trying to siphon his finger into you.

“You would like that, you nasty little girl.” 

But he’s aroused, too, his cock straining eagerly against his trousers, a direct result of your sweet blood still tinging his tongue, your precious yelps of pain still ringing in his ears. Saliva pools in the dips of your mouth as you stare at it, thighs flexing on either side of him again, another gush of warmth flooding the apex of your legs. 

“Master, you’re—” you begin in a stringy, needy whine, swallowing thickly. “You—You’re…Can we…” 

“Can we what?” 

A knuckle finds your chin, drawing your eyes back to his, a thumb gripping the point, inhibiting you from fleeing his invasive stare. 

“Come now, it’s rude not to finish your sentence.” 

Pricks of embarrassment erupt across your face, eyes teetering on a wince as you force the stubborn words from your tongue, question trembling.

“Can we fuck?” 

Crimson searches your face, pupils pulsing with a vile sort of voracity, consuming his irises bit by bit as he contemplates. His gaze is cutting, slicing into you as it torturously pulls apart your features and examines them one by one. 

And you—you let him, open and willing and vulnerable and raw as you bear your soul to him, as you rip yourself open for him, as your fingers dig through meat and blood and bone to get to your core, offering it to him wholeheartedly. 

“Perhaps,” he finally responds, reaching for his surgical needle and thread. “I’m going to re-stitch this now,” he tells you, voice a touch huskier than before. “If you are well behaved as I tend to the wound—no squirming, no complaining—I might just give you what you want.” 

His stare holds your own, an eyebrow raising, imbued with inquiry. 

Are you ready to play? 

Oh, he isn’t going to make it easy for you, but you’re up for the challenge. 

[melkyt]

Stretchmarks, every person gets more than a few in their life. It is a natural part of existence.

Law has plenty of scars, blemishes, and pale patches dotting his skin from years of struggles. The stretchmarks are something that he both hates and loves to look at.

It is a sign that he survived, that he beat the illness, and his body could finally grow, and it did. Yet, on the other hand, the growth spurt only came after he lost Cora. It is many painful memories interlaced with the few moments of happiness etched into his skin as a constant reminder.

Luffy on the other hand, has very little that shows he was ever a child, beyond the scars he collected over the years, there is nothing to show that he lived and grew like every other person. He can't miss what he doesn't have, but he is fascinated by such things, especially when it comes to Law. With each mark, however faint, has a tale to tell, and Luffy wants to know everything about his Torao.

On nights when he and Law are alone in the infirmary of the polar tang, when its quiet, Luffy will sit down across Law's lap, demanding a story as he is bired being cooped up while his wounds heal.

Law rolls his eyes eith an exasperated sigh but starts reciting one of his medical books. He very quickly realised that Luffy just wants to hear someone talk, he does not do well in silence.

It was on the last night they spent together that Luffy noticed the stretch amrk crisscrossing over Law's stomach. It was a hot day and he was not wearing his usal tanktop.

Luffy is fascinated, his fingers trace the first line just past the belt. Law quivers, chocking midword. He pusshes Luffy's hand away. "What are you doing!?"

"These are so cool, Torao" Luffy grins his sginature smile "You're so cool" He takes Law's hand in his own, while continuing to trace the patterns, learning more about Law through the history etched into pale skin.

Law can't tell Luffy to stop. It has been so long since he allowed anyone to touch him in any way, as they always wanted more.

Yet with Luffy, he knows that this exploration does not ask for more. It is curiosity and kindness with no expectation for anything but this moment.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

One of the things I’ve been playing around with in my head regarding Jason’s appearance is whether or not he has visible scars from his death.

Per Lazarus Pit lore, it does remove all scars/blemishes from the body. Yet, this is sometimes very unsatisfying.

My friend and I had an idea for our one AU that his scars were just silvery marks that only showed up under certain light. And the more I play around with the idea, the more I like that type of concept.

I think moving forward I might describe them like that - patches of skin with no evidence of injury save for the off coloration (scars are usually lighter than the surrounding skin though burns are sometimes darker while they heal)

[ccieatchildren]

Scars

Shower steam filtered in through the open bathroom door, warming the bedroom and permeating the smell of soap in the air. They had been reapplying ointment, what little he had given them, to their still healing wounds and rebandaging them. Whumpee turned from their spot on the edge of the bed to watch as he walked in. There was a certain swagger to the way he carried himself that they despised. However, while Whumpee hadn’t been here for long, they had already learned not to engage with him if they didn’t have to– it wasn’t worth the risk– so Whumpee just stared.

A towel was slung low around his waist and his hair was still damp, leaving droplets of water in his wake. His half naked body was on full display, and Whumpee couldn’t stop from curiously analyzing each part of him. They typically didn’t get to see much of him due to clothing or dark lighting getting in the way, but now they could see the various scars littering his frame. 

There were two slash marks on his lower right abdomen that formed an uneven cross, a line of indented flesh that seemed to encircle his whole left bicep, a bullet wound sat right above on his shoulder, and on his right collarbone were four deep cuts, almost like claw marks. Whumpee hadn’t expected someone like him to have so many cicatrices, he was a simple researcher, and while they did get hurt sometimes, they typically were small cuts from broken glass or chemical burns. They had their own to confirm. Furthermore, normal villains usually had many more lesions and blemishes across their figures from many fights and powers going haywire. Though, he wasn’t like many normal archetypes anyway. 

Their train of thought was cut off by a deep chuckle. “Like what you see?” 

Whumpee blushed, glaring at him, and turning back to what they were initially doing. He continued to snigger at their embarrassment while they furiously tried to refocus on patching themself up. The thought of the line being cliché and overused made them feel a bit better, and they continued to bash him in their head to calm themself down as they worked. 

The rustling of a towel could be heard as he dried off his hair, sounding like a wet dog shaking itself dry. Then, they could hear him shuffling in the background, presumably fetching clothes from the closet. Whumpee tried to keep their gaze solely on what they were doing, but could no longer concentrate on their task. Having been caught staring, and him misinterpreting their attention, irritated them, but now they were even more curious. Forcing themself not to look, only made them want to look more. Whumpee cursed themself for having the self restraint of a five year old…

Slightly pivoting their head to peek at him again as he picked out his attire, they barely managed to stop themself from gasping at the sight. His back was still turned to them, and scrawled there was one of the most unsettling wounds they had ever seen. Along his upper back, spanning from the left shoulder to the right the word “BASTARD” was carved in large letters. The raised skin along his shoulder blades conveyed that the cut had healed long ago, but whoever had done it, made sure to slash deep enough so the mark would stay there forever. They had seen many things, from their own burnt skin melting off, to arms completely torn off, but the deliberately and aggressively engraved swear on his body disturbed them in a way they had never felt before.

Whumpee had never met anyone, villain or otherwise, who intentionally and methodically cut someone in a way that would leave them alive but always wearing a reminder of their experience. Especially in a way that exuded so much wrath and resentment. At least not until Whumper. They looked down at themself and the injuries that adorned their body. Was he using the same techniques on them that someone else had used on him? The thought made them shiver. Vigorously returning to their task, Whumpee swore to themself that they would not allow Whumper to scar them like he had been himself. 

— — — — —

“Just ask.”

Whumpee flinched. They had just finished one of their sessions and Whumper decided to patch them up afterwards this time. They would much rather do it themself, as his hands would always roam to places they didn’t need to, but Whumper would use better medicine whenever he played medic, and knew how to bind the wounds tighter than they ever could with their, now constantly, trembling fingers. They also weren’t allowed to say no to him.

“W-What?”

“I can practically hear the questions bouncing around in your head.” He suddenly pulled the bandage harshly, pulling a gasp out from them. “Not to mention the hole you’re burning into my back with your staring.” The hand on their middle considerably tightened, “it’s starting to piss me off, so ask.”

Whumpee contemplated his demand, unsure if he meant it or if it was just another one of his tricks, baiting them to make a mistake just so he could beat them again. But they could feel him getting agitated behind them, therefore they had to say something. However, Whumpee didn’t think asking him what was really on their mind would go over very well. They had to think of something quick, but, unfortunately, when it came to talking they didn’t work very well under pressure. So…

“How do you get your hair so sleek?” Whumpee wanted to smash themself over the head with a glass. This was the best their brain could come up with? Might as well say goodbye to a calm evening.

Whumper was still behind them, and they were already saying their prayers, until he barked out a laugh. “What?” The amusement pervaded his tone. “You have been ruminating for the past three days on how I do my hair?”

“… Yes.”

He continued to cackle behind them as Whumpee quietly panicked, hoping that was enough to quell him.

“Aww, that’s cute, darlin’. Didn’t know you still had the quips in you.” He took a moment to pretend to wipe a tear from his eye. “But I don’t think that’s what you’ve been thinkin’ about.” Arms locked around their waist, pulling them flush against him. A dark voice whispered in their ear, “Now, I’ve indulged your little game,” his arms constricted, pushing into their stomach, agitating their injuries, “letting you figure out the best way to approach this,” Whumpee looked away. “If I’m honest, it was quite nice to see you contemplate whether to ask me or not,” his voice grew smug, “it means you’re learning, becoming more obedient, which will only make things easier for the both of us in the future.” Whumper squeezed even further once again, and they groaned from the pain. “For that, I’m giving you an out. Be good and I’ll reward you. So,” he growled, “ask the damn question.”

Whumpee gulped. “Fine. Ju- Just let go,” they pushed at his arms, “it hurts.”

Whumper clutched them tighter. Whumpee could feel some of their wounds reopen under the pressure. “I’ll let go when you stop wasting my time.” 

“Okay, okay,” they wheezed. “I just wanted to know about the large scar on your back,” the ache was getting worse. “The one that says bas–.”

He abruptly let them go, allowing air to filter back into their system and dampening the pain to a dull throb. “I know the one.”

Whumpee froze, trying to suppress their oncoming coughing fit. They didn’t want to set him off when he was obviously very displeased. He curtly got up and headed for the door, leaving them with the final words,

“Do not bring it up again.”

Extra:

Fuck that motherfucking mothafucka. 

Whumpee wanted to punch something, they just did what he asked and now he’s mad at them, like it’s their fault.

Fuckin’ hate that fuckin’ kidnappin’ piece of shit. They continued to curse to themself as they finished the job Whumper brusquely left to them. Closing up the now open cuts, applying ointment, and finally bandaging them for the– hopefully– last time that day. Whumpee sighed to themself. Who were they kidding, he would ruin them again at night. But at least they had a new piece of information to exploit.

It may take a while, but they will escape from here and see everyone again.

[eldritch-spouse]

Wife innocently asking Kalymir about all of his scars and touching them and fawning over him, seemingly oblivious to how hot n' bothered he's getting.

" YOU'RE STARING AGAIN, RUNT. "

Ah, he caught you. How can he blame you? Kalymir is quite something, physically speaking. It's hard not to notice him, not to stare at him. In such a vivid garnet coloration, it's hard not to focus on the gashes of blush rose that cross his figure, standing out like sore thumbs.

Kalymir doesn't hide them, in fact, he practically goes out of his way to display them, like they're the most beautiful part of his body. He seems to think other people's scars, whether from battle or simple "blemishes" of nature, are also attractive- It was very odd to see him constantly trace a slash across your arm from a soft training session.

Nevertheless, the King is kind of primal sometimes. In the sense that prolonged gazing agitates him severely. It's hard to tell if he enjoys it or not, but you know it definitely reads as a challenge, if the growl under his words is any indication.

" So I am. " You blink.

" IT'S GETTING ON MY FUCKING NERVES, SPEAK ALREADY. " He fumes.

It's clear you caught him in the middle of some sort of scheme, he only ever stands in front of his main (massive) fireplace with his arms behind his back when he's mulling over something. Kaly's already pissed from being interrupted, better not to test him further. But then again, you did come here to make sure he isn't spacing out in his own mind, in a positive feedback loop of fury...

" How did you get that one? " Walking to stand beside your demonlord, you point to his chest, specifically the large patch that crosses it diagonally.

Kalymir snorts, turning. " OH, SO YOU JUST CAME TO MAKE GOO-GOO EYES AT ME? "

You roll your eyes, but a lazy smile still graces your face. " I asked you a question. "

" I HEARD, DIPSHIT. "

Apparently, you've successfully brought him out of his thoughtful stupor, because the Icon grins wide, teeth ever flared, and squats in front of you.

" THIS ONE HERE? " He barks, and you nod silently. " IT'S MY FAVORITE. " And his biggest. You wouldn't be surprised if it was his favorite precisely for that reason. " I GOT IT THE DAY I BECAME KING OF WRATH. "

Eyebrows rise, you gawk openly, rising loud cackles out of him. " No shit-? "

" YEAH BITCH. " He leers, fetching one of your hands and putting it up against the gnarled flesh, just beneath the bone growths on his upper chest. You blush a little, though allow yourself to map it out. " FEEL IT. "

Kalymir flexes. Although you're entirely unaware of it, his tail wags increasingly faster behind him. " I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE IN THAT ARENA, YET I WALKED OUT AS THE BEST WRATH COULD OFFER! "

When he puts it like that, it really is a scar worth showing off. You'd wear it with pride too. It actually sits very well upon him.

"AND THIS- "

Your hand is forced to grope at the scarred flesh harder, every inch of tense muscle felt beneath his hot skin.

" IS MY TROPHY. YOU HEAR ME, PIPSQUEAK? "

" Y-Yeah. " Is his breathing faster? You suppose you'd get excited talking about such a cool conquest too. " That's so brutal! I bet it hurt like a motherfucker too, you're amazing. "

Kalymir beams, puffing out further before you, even going as far as to raise his arms in a perfect display pose so you can see the way the healed tissue stretches to accommodate movement. Your gleeful giggle has him beaming back, happy to show off.

" DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I AM. " He huffs, greedily allowing you to explore the length of said scar, relishing your little hands on him, your words of complete awe.

Kalymir licks at his teeth and groans, wondering how long it'll take before you stop babbling and notice the twitching tent in his loincloth.

[firelightmuse]

Character Profile 🔥🌸

Yume Aino

Since it is VERY long, it is under a cut. If you do read all of this, thank you so much for taking the time out to do so!!! Enjoy! 🥰

Updated as of Dawntrail Patch 7.1, 12/06/2024

BASICS//

Name: Yume Aino

Name Pronounciation: Yoo-may Eye-know

Name Meaning: Yume = “Dream”, Aino = “Of Love”, both of Japanese origin. In her lore, "Aino" is the name of the now dormant volcanic mountain that Aino Castle is built upon, and the clan itself took its name from the volcano. Theoretically, Yume was named as such because she was to be the "Dream of the Aino Clan".

Nicknames: “Little Bird”, is a nickname from her childhood but is adopted by Zenos as a pet name for her; “My Fire”, “My Light”, and “Mea Amata”, are all other pet names Zenos has for Yume (“mea amata” is Latin for the feminine form of “my beloved”, and is a reference to the Garlean native language).

Unsundered Name: Nemesis (Not Azem)

Titles: Warrior of Light, Warrior of Darkness, Hydaelyn’s Chosen, Scion of the Seventh Dawn, Champion of Eorzea, Eikon Slayer, Savior of Ishgard, Liberator of Doma and Ala Mhigo, Wandering Flame, Ronin of Eorzea, Former Heir of Lord Masanori Aino

Age: 24 in ARR, 31 as of Post-6.0

Nameday: 13th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon (May 13th)

Gender: Female, Cis

Race: Au Ra

Tribe: Raen

Nationality: Hingan

Languages: Modern Hingan, Most Far Eastern Dialects, Old Auri Tongue, and Eorzean Common Tongue

Profession: Former samurai and heir apparent of the Aino Clan; Currently a ronin, adventurer, and Scion of the Seventh Dawn

Education Level: Home schooled by private tutors in Hingashi, and is particularly knowledgeable in history, cultures, and languages.

BLOODLINES//

Father: Lord Masanori Aino (48 in ARR)

Mother: Lady Michiko Aino (45 in ARR)

Siblings: 2 younger brothers, Daichi and Kentaro (Ages 8 and 6 in ARR); Numerous half-siblings born of her father and his concubines

Extended Family: Large extended family, but her best friend is her first cousin Rei Tokugawa (25 in ARR)

In-Laws: All in-laws deceased

Children: None, and cannot have any biological children due to her injuries from attempted Seppuku

Pet: An amaro named Nightmare who also serves as Yume’s mount; the amaro was named after Yume’s black horse, also named Nightmare, that Yume was forced to leave behind after she was banished by her father.

ROMANCE & SEXUALITY//

Sexual Orientation: Demisexual

Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic

Significant Other: Zenos Galvus, in a long-term monogamous relationship as of Post-6.0; Will marry at some time in the future

Past Relationships: Briefly dated G’raha Tia during the events of the investigation of the Crystal Tower; Yume’s ancient self as Nemesis was eternally bonded with Ares, Zenos’ ancient self

RESIDENCE//

Place of Birth: Born in Aino Castle, in Lord Masanori Aino's territory, located not too far outside of Kugane, Hingashi

Current Residence: Small house in Shirogane (Located in game at Rafflesia, Shirogane, Ward 17, Plot 33.)

TALENTS AND SKILLS//

Canon Battle Jobs: Samurai (Trained since early childhood; canonically referred to as a Ronin; some of Yume’s abilities are unique and distinctive from the in game job) and Black Mage (Self-taught; some abilities are unique and distinct from the canonical in-game job)

Abilities: Kenjutsu, Martial Arts, Marksmanship, Thaumaturgy, Black Magic, Writing Poetry, Dancing, and Polyglot

Bad At: Singing, All forms of healing magic, Household chores, Public Speaking, Confiding in others when stressed, and Controlling her anger.

APPEARANCE//

Hair: Naturally jet black in color with straight bangs and pulled back into a high ponytail most of the time, and medium-long length.

Eyes: Large, wide set eyes; Royal Blue in color with lighter blue limbal rings surrounding the iris.

Face: Heart-shaped, with ivory colored scales on cheeks and bridge of her long, thin nose.

Lips: Full, plump lips

Complexion: Fair, can mildly tan with extended sun exposure

Blemishes: None

Scars: Though she has many small scars accumulated over the years, the most prominent one is a large, very deep scar from the right side of her abdomen to her belly button that she is quite ashamed of for many years; she only shows the scar when necessary unless she is alone with Zenos.

Tattoos: One large tattoo of a Phoenix spreading its wings that covers her entire back in all red ink.

Height: 5 fulms 2 ilms (Tallest Height for female Au Ra)

Weight: 120 ponze

Build: Petite and athletic but curvy with a large chest.

Features (Au Ra): Horns are slightly curled and sloping backwards away from her face; tail is long and smooth with a few small spikes near the base. Scales adorn her body and face with a small speckling of scales above the bridge of her nose.

Usual Hairstyles: Usually pulled up into a high ponytail for battle, but she tends to also pull up her hair into a side ponytail with braids while not fighting, and recently she has worn her hair loose.

Usual Face Look: Usually wears reddish-pink eyeshadow, black eyeshadow and eyeliner, and mauve colored lipstick.

Usual Clothing: Black leather, black colored robes, black or dark colored kimonos, black dresses, and some dark red and dark purple accessories. Basically, Yume asks, “Does this come in black?”

Face and Voice Claim: Chinese actress Fan Bing Bing for both face and voice claim.

PERSONALITY//

Introverted / Extroverted / Ambiverted (bold what applies)

Positive Traits: Friendly, polite, respectful, reserved, courageous, brave, kind, compassionate, empathetic, open minded, pragmatic, intuitive, loyal, faithful.

Most Positive Trait: Honorable to a fault. Yume follows the Honor Code of the Samurai and will not fight an unarmed opponent, tries her best to not bring harm to the innocent, and she is extremely loyal to those she has sworn to serve. Will give her life in an heartbeat if she deems it to be an honorable death and a worthy sacrifice for a good cause.

Negative Traits: Temperamental, prideful, aggressive, cynical, jealous, possessive, distant, insecure, reckless.

Most Negative Trait: Besides falling in love with Zenos? Yume has a problem with anger management. When she doesn’t keep her anger in check, she gets violent, and will kill an enemy with no hesitation. She has killed many people this way in her past in Hingashi, including killing those that she felt had dishonored her in some way.

Fears: Living a life without making her own choices, having regrets, and the death of her loved ones, though not afraid of dying herself.

Aspirations: To live a life that she has chosen for herself and not forced upon her by someone else, to help others and use her powers for good, and to see the entire world for herself.

Traumas: For past traumas before ARR, you can read Yume’s history below. Most of the events of ShB and EW were really traumatic for her, especially almost dying after the battle with Zenos at the end of 6.0.

Hobbies: Writing poetry, travelling, learning about other cultures, learning history, reading, and shopping.

Vices: Eating too much junk food, bottling up emotions until she explodes, shutting out others when feeling depressed, feeling insecure about herself outside of being a Warrior of Light.

Faith: Believes in the concept of Karma and that everything happens for a reason, but does not believe in the Kami or any other kind of god, at least ones that aren't primals anyway.

Turn Ons: Loyalty, Confidence, Bravery, Integrity, Intelligence, unique eyes, beautiful smile, muscular physique, and a large chest.

Turn Offs: Cowardice, Dishonesty, Disloyalty, Deceitfulness, Superficiality, Greed

Temperament: Phlegmatic/Choleric

MBTI: INFP-A

Soul Type: The Warrior

Tropes: The Chosen Many, Lady of War, Aloof Dark-haired Girl, Dark and Troubled Past, Samurai, Ronin, Warrior Poet, Honor Before Reason, Seppuku, Black Mage, Lady of Black Magic

Songs: “Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones (This one is also her OC tag), “Weight of the World” from Nier Automata, “Sayuri’s Theme” from Memoirs of a Geisha, and “Wandering Flame” from FFX

Character Inspirations: Chiyo/Sayuri from Memoirs of a Geisha, Mariko from James Clavell’s Shogun, Auron from FFX, Tifa Lockhart from FFVII, Rei Hino/Sailor Mars from Sailor Moon, Trinity from The Matrix, Daenerys Targaryen from A Song of Ice and Fire, and Jasmine from Disney’s Aladdin

FAVORITES//

Book: Chūshingura, translated as The Treasury of Loyal Retainers, commonly known as The 47 Ronin.

Deity: Nald’thal the Traders

Holidays: Heavensturn and Moonfire Faire

Month: 3rd Astral Moon (May)

Weather: A warm, sunny day with a light breeze and fair to clear skies.

Time of Day: Dawn

Places: Kugane, Eastern Thanalan, Costa del Sol, The Royal Menagerie in the palace in Ala Mhigo, Rak’tika Greatwood, Thavnair, Ultima Thule, and Yak T’el

Sounds: The wind, chimes, Taiko drumming, birds chirping, and crackling wood of a campfire or a fireplace.

Scents: Cherry blossoms, tea brewing, incense, and candles burning.

Tastes: Anything spicy, strawberries and cream, sushi, curry, ramen, matcha green tea, coffee, chocolate.

Feels: Leather, flower petals, Hingan silk, and a warm fireplace or campfire.

Number: 2

Colors: Jet Black, Dalamud Red, Wine Red, and Gloom Purple

SYMBOLISM//

Elements: Fire, Light, and Darkness

Gemstones: Amber and Sunstone

Animal: Birds of all kind

Mythological Creature: Phoenixes

Flowers: Cherry blossoms and sunflowers

Seasons: Late Spring and Early Summer

Land, Sea, or Sky: Sky

Astronomical Object: The Sun

HISTORY//

History (Pre-ARR): ((Content/Trigger Warnings Ahead!! Ritualistic Suicide/Seppuku, Attempted Suicide, Mental and Emotional Abuse, Slight Depictions of Self-Harm, and Discussion of Potential Incestual Marriage; Feel free to skip over this section to avoid!))

Yume was born the eldest daughter of a Daimyo (a feudal lord who ruled over a territory in Hingashi), Lord Masanori Aino, and she was his heir apparent. Yume was raised from birth to become the ideal samurai, who would be able to beat any opponent in battle, and to one day succeed her father as daimyo. She excelled in all her studies and was driven to be the best on the battlefield, yet she always felt like something was missing from her life.

As she got older, she travelled often to Kugane, the famed port city where merchants from all walks of life congregated. Yume was exposed to people with vastly different cultures and traditions from the ones she knew. She was fascinated with the travelers from distant lands that she had never seen before, especially the Eorzeans. Yet she would always do her duty and aspired to live up to her father’s expectations.

When she came of age, Lord Aino began the search for his beloved daughter’s suitor, and he had narrowed down his criteria to a very short but nigh impossible list: 1) Must be a son of a prominent noble family, 2) Must be able to sire children, and 3) He must be Yume’s equal in battle, as determined by a 1v1 duel with Yume herself. The first two criteria were the easy part. Many clans were interested in marrying their son to the daughter of Lord Aino, but Lord Aino looked for perfection, and no man around her age was good enough for his daughter. This is because every would be suitor who dueled Yume for a chance to win her hand in marriage was defeated. There were none that proved worthy of her.

Yume pleaded with her father to allow her to decide for herself who she wants to marry in her own time, but her father forbade her from ever speaking of it again, for she would shame him and bring dishonor to the family name. Soon after Yume’s 18th nameday, her father announced her betrothal to Lord Nobu Aino, her own uncle. Nobu had lost his wife due to illness, and he never fathered children with her. To ensure that Nobu will have children of his own, he wished to wed a young woman with many years ahead of her so that she can give him many children. Yume was appalled; it was commonplace centuries ago for uncles and nieces to marry in Hingashi, but it is a dying tradition that only a few remaining noble families participate in, as most of Hingashi frowns upon it in modern times.

Yume soon felt trapped in the station in life that she was born into. Her family never sought her approval of her uncle as her suitor, nor was there any room for her to decline the betrothal. Though she wished for nothing more than to become a samurai, she did not want to be forced into a marriage with her own uncle, nor to be bound to a fate that she never decided for herself. This led to the biggest decision she ever made: she confronted her father and outright refused to marry Nobu no matter what.

Her father answered her by saying that she has dishonored him and the family, but Yume responded that he has shamed her and she cannot live like this anymore. Lord Aino ended the confrontation by telling her that if she cannot live with the shame, then she must commit Seppuku, or ritualistic suicide.

The next day, the ceremony has commenced, and Yume is fully prepared to take her own life. But just as she began to slit her belly open, her father stops her and tells her that she does not have to die but must live in shame. Lord Aino’s change of heart allows Yume to survive the attempted seppuku, but the damage to her organs was so extensive that her reproductive organs had to be removed, so Yume can never have biological children. Soon after she recovers from her wounds, the family disowns her, she is stripped of all her power and titles, and she must leave her father’s lands, never to return. Yume agrees to this, and she never sees her family again.

After she has fully recovered and left her father’s lands behind, Yume is now known as a disgraced ronin, a samurai without a master. To survive, she makes a name for herself as a mercenary and assassin in Kugane for five years, and was known as the “Wandering Flame”, which derives from her clan living on a dormant volcano, the “flame” part, and “wandering” for her being a ronin.

One fateful day, after hearing the voice of Hydaelyn calling to her day after day to go to Eorzea, Yume decides that since there really is nothing left for her in Hingashi, she leaves her homeland behind for Eorzea, a land that she has always dreamed of seeing, and soon becomes a Scion of the Seventh Dawn and is known as a “Warrior of Light”.

OTHER//

Smokes: Never

Drugs: Never

Drinks: Only drinks wine and certain kinds of cocktails, and she is overall very responsible with her alcohol consumption. She will never drink on the eve of battle, nor ever indulge at times when she needs her mind to be clear and focused.

Mount Issuance: Yume was never given a chocobo, as she flat out refuses one. She does not like the chocobos because of their smell, and still usually calls them “horse birds” out of habit from growing up in Hingashi. She rode a motorcycle built by Cid for a few years (from ARR until ShB) until she is gifted an amaro named Nightmare by the Crystal Exarch.

Been Arrested: Was technically going to be arrested for Regicide during the events of the Bloody Banquet, but Yume escapes Ul’dah along with her fellow Warriors of Light.

UNSUNDERED AND SHARDS//

Unsundered: Nemesis (Not Azem)

Source: Yume Aino, Warrior of Light, 8 times rejoined

First: Renda-Rae, rejoined during ShB 5.0

Second: ???, rejoined in 3rd Calamity (Fire)

Third: ???, rejoined in 4th Calamity (Earth)

Fourth: ???, status unknown

Fifth: ???, rejoined in 1st Calamity (Wind)

Sixth: ???, rejoined in 5th Calamity (Ice)

Seventh: Tifa Lockhart, rejoined in 7th Calamity (Bahamut)

Eighth: ???, status unknown

Ninth: ???, status unknown

Tenth: Auron, rejoined in 6th Calamity (Water)

Eleventh: ???, status unknown

Twelfth: ???, rejoined in 2nd Calamity (Lightning)

Thirteenth: Rubicante, deceased as of patch 6.3

CURRENT STATUS//

As of patches 7.0-7.1, Yume will begin by wandering Tural with Zenos as they hunt down Tural Vidraal, with Yume’s newly self-trained skills as a Black Mage. Yume and Zenos did not assist in the Rite of Succession for any candidate. However, they helped in the defense of Tuliyollal both times that the city is attacked, and they fought in the battle with Sphene alongside Hali and the other WoLs. Following their victory, Yume and Zenos have remained in Tural for a while before they eventually head back to their home in Shirogane.

NOTE: Yume's story follows all of the major events of the MSQ as she is a Warrior of Light. The only major canon diversion is that in her canonverse, there are multiple Warriors of Light (notably my main OC Hali Aloke @starrysnowdrop and my friends’ OCs) and Yume’s ancient self is NOT Azem. Yume won’t always be the main focus of certain MSQ events either, as my main WoL is Hali. Feel free to ask me for any specifics in this regard.

[asongaboutpirates]

VetVimes kissing prompt: 21. …on a place of insecurity. You always write so fluffy and sweet things. <3

Thank you for your prompt @slowlymychaos 🥰 I hope you are alright with a bit of angst... (But it's sweet too! Promise!)

Holding On and Letting Go

Rating: G Words: ~1.000 Tags: Angst, fluff, emotional h/c, past child abuse

It was a peculiar feeling to watch the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork sleep. Sam was still getting used to it, to sharing a bed, to this intimacy between them. Usually, he slipped under the covers early in the morning, only shortly before Havelock rose to start his day. The little time in between was all the more precious to him.

He never managed to settle next to him undetected. Havelock’s eyes would flutter open, then he would smile at him gently. He was beautiful like that, when he hadn’t donned the aloofness of the Patrician yet, when he was soft with sleep. Sam was under no illusion that this softness wasn’t as calculated as everything else he did, and that Havelock could be on the other side of the room with a knife in his hand within seconds. But it made these quiet moments all the more precious, when he knew that Havelock had chosen to be vulnerable.

‘Morning,’ Sam muttered, then kissed his temple, his jaw, his neck. He traced Havelock’s chest with light fingers, relishing in his warmth after a cold, rainy night out. He’d never thought he’d get to have that: a warm place to return to, where he would be welcome to stay and rest. Sometimes he even felt that Havelock was waiting for him to come… He traced his fingertips gently along his collarbone, up and down his neck, and over his shoulder.

His fingers stopped when they found a tiny rough patch skin. When they stayed for a moment to carefully examine it, Havelock startled and pulled away, propping himself up on his elbow to eye Sam warily.

Sam quickly took his hand back. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.’

The wary stare didn’t waver, but behind it, Sam could practically see gears turning.

‘Never knew you had a scar,’ he muttered, just to fill the silence. It was something that fascinated him. His own skin was rough, weather-beaten and riddled in scars. Havelock’s was soft and smooth, without a blemish. Or so he had thought. ‘How’d you get it?’

The gears still turned behind watchful eyes. Knowing Havelock, there was probably an elaborate pulley system involved, too, and some levers to boot. As close as they had become physically, he still didn’t share easily. Neither did Sam. They fit together like that – not asking, not telling. Maybe it was time to change that. So Vimes didn’t withdraw his question, just lay there, enduring the heavy silence, and waited to see what the outcome of Havelock’s internal fight might be.

‘By my father’s hand,’ he finally said, very matter-of-factly. ‘Or rather, by his belt buckle.’

Oh.

Havelock continued to hold Sam’s gaze as if trying to gauge his reaction. Sam felt like he was put to a test that he didn’t know the requirements to.

‘I’m sorry.’

Havelock shrugged his shoulders.

‘He was a traditional man, and he didn’t like that his son had no interest in the things boys of his age and upbringing traditionally had interest in.’ He looked down at his shoulder, where the tiny white speck of scar tissue glimmered in the twilight. It was hard to overlook once you knew it was there. ‘Usually, he took care to not leave any permanent damage, nothing a doctor might see. But one time I had angered him so much that he forgot himself. And he gave me this.’

Sam desperately wanted to touch him, to hold him, but was unsure whether he would be welcome.

‘My aunt took me in afterwards. I went to school. I healed. The scar stayed. It’s a constant reminder.’

‘Is your father still alive?’

‘Are you turning this into a murder investigation, commander?’

‘No. Just checking. He might get a little visit from me, if he were.’

The corners of Havelock’s mouth twitched into the resemblance of a smile, but only for a second.

‘He died of a stroke about ten years ago. I never did work up the courage to face him, I’m afraid.’

‘Good.’

‘If you are going to tell me that it is better for me to not have stooped to his level…’

‘No, not that. Just that men like him aren’t worth your skills or your time. Let them be forgotten by history. Let them fade into insignificance.’

‘Strange advice to receive from you, of all people.’

Ha!

‘Right. But it’s enough for one of us to be the terrier that doesn’t let go.’ Sam slowly reached out his hand, giving Havelock plenty of time to back off. When he didn’t, he carefully stroked over the scar again, and when Havelock didn’t stop him then either, he leaned down to place a tender kiss on it. ‘He can’t hurt you anymore.’

A hand curled around the back of Sam’s head to hold him close as Havelock nestled his face into the crook of his neck. After a moment, Sam felt dampness on his skin, and it broke his heart. Carefully, he turned his head to kiss the quiet tears from Havelock’s cheeks.

Havelock tolerated his tenderness only for a moment, before he pulled away and sat up. He blinked his eyes, once, twice, and looked as if he had never cried at all, just the way Sam would find him on any given day in the Oblong Office.

‘I apologise. That was inappropriate.’

‘No, it wasn’t! It was…’ Sam was fishing for words and found a realisation. ‘Look, we… we could be more, couldn’t we? We could talk more, right? Get to know each other. Be more like…’

‘A couple?’

Oh gods, that sounded terrifying. But it also felt like the logical next step. It felt right.

‘Yeah. I mean… Yeah, if you want.’

Again, the gears turned, the pulleys rolled, the levers levered.

‘You might end up disappointed.’

Sam’s heart gave a painful twinge when he heard Havelock’s voice crack. ‘So? That’s how these things work. That’s how life works. We try anyway. It’s all about holding on to some things and letting go of others, I guess.’ He swallowed. ‘We could find out what’s what together.’

Something behind Havelock’s eyes snapped into place.

‘Alright.’

‘That a yes?’

‘Yes.’

Sam smiled, then he pulled him into his arms and placed another kiss on his scar.

They slept in that morning, Havelock cradled in Sam’s arms, and neither of them even considering letting go.

[kairiscorner]

Hi bhie 🧍‍♀️

(Are you tired of my gabri shit yet)

No? Great, Im gonna req something then :)))

Gabri x spiderperson reader

Imagining them coming home from a long mission, like really exhausted from work, or spider duties. They’re probably really scarred/bruised

Seeing his partner in such a state, Gabri goes into househusband mode KAJSJWJDIJSKDJSKSKSKSK

Taking care of their wounds, patching them up, doing cleaning and cooking for them 😭

Can you tell which character im obsessed with atm

is it miguel

gabriel o'hara x wounded!spider person!reader

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

"nena, what happened to you?!"

gabriel rushed over to your fatigued, scarred, and injured self. he was heaving and panicking internally, and externally, as he guided you to the sofa and sat you down–rushing over to the bathroom and, in his anxious haste, made several containers and toiletries clatter. your wounds weren't that grave, you sought immediate medical aid the minute you got back to HQ before you came home to gabri, but your dearest was always so easy to shake up and worry, he can never sit still and be calm when he sees even a single new blemish or fracture on your otherwise perfect skin.

you tried telling gabriel you were fine, the scars would heal up and would, hopefully, go away soon. gabriel shook his head and kept repeating to you in spanglish that your wounds didn't look very good... he wanted to be assured that you would most definitely be okay, not just told that you were, but confirmed to himself that you would be okay. you let gabriel tend to your worse wounds, with him looking up at you with concerned doe eyes in between him bandaging you up. "ay, mi vida... i know you're very strong, capable, smart and all, but... i can't help but worry sometimes." he muttered as he finished bandaging you up. you told gabri that this wasn't anything new, you would walk it off fine–even better now that he's taken care of your other wounds.

gabriel smiled at you and kissed your cheek, deciding to make your evening a little better with a good batch of treats you loved. he was a decent chef, but a better baker, in your opinion–he was hellbent on making you the best damned treats you would ever taste in your whole life. after an hour or two, gabriel finally finished the batch of treats he made for you–flour, icing, and some other ingredients coating his face and arms; they adorned his smiling expression with a bit of literal sweetness behind them as he giggled in slight embarrassment at how messy he looked.

"dig in, cariño, you've had a long day... you deserve this much." he tells you as he hands you a piece. he expected you to take it from his hands and dig in, but you bit off a piece as he held it out to you and smiled a little wider as his eyes widened and he got all... flustered at your bold, unexpected move. "only if you'll feed me, gabri." you said with a grin as he chuckled and smiled even wider like a dork, taking you up on your offer and fed you from his own, clean and sweet hands with a smile.

tags !! @hearts4gabri @ophanimgold

[potentialbreakupscng]

she never thought they'd have quiet moments like this. their entire relationship happened during a war -- fighting for their lives and the lives of thousands of others. they'd lost people. every moment they could get felt so precious to her. dora savored these moments — wearing nothing but the chain around her neck that held her old wedding band, chest pressed against his while her finger traced a soft pattern on his clavicle. clothes scattered a ross tbe room as they had been unceremoniously pulled off of the other ( he wore his new suit today, she couldn’t be blamed, really. ) new ones nearby in case their almost eight month old decided to wake up — he usually didn’t, and the late night feedings had stopped. she couldn’t remember how they got on the topic of her scars, but she didn’t mind it. she could change her appearance on a whim, and decidedly only changed her hair color.every blemish on her skin told some kind of story — stories she didn’t mind sharing. her scars were a combination of her different adventures as an auror, part of the order — or just plain clumsiness.

she let out a soft laugh as his lips pressed against the most noticeable scar on her shoulder, shivering when she felt his stubble against her skin. “it was from an epic fight between nine year old me and the giant tree in our back yard.” she moved her hand so she could comb her fingers through her hair, moving it from her neck where it clung to the skin. her hand returned back to his chest — tracing soft shapes onto his skin in a random rotation. “i really enjoyed climbing trees when i was a kid, and we had a giant one in our back yard. mum told me not to climb it, but i did anyway.“ a shrug as she leaned in to brush her nose against his jaw. “i got up pretty high then lost my footing and fell to the ground. had a pretty awful gash and a broken shoulder. dad had been so worried, but made sure he didn’t let me see it when he patched me up. he’d always been better at healing than mum was.”

there was a shift in her expression at the mention of her father, feeling her stomach squeeze and her chest tighten. one of their last conversations had been the night remus had left — when he came to comfort her and offer her advice. she didn’t know that when she hugged him good bye that it would have been the last time she was going to. had she known she wouldn’t have still been angry with him and her mother for insinuating that their child was a mistake — he would have loved teddy. she would have told him that she still loved him. part of her wondered if he died thinking that she hated him.

“sorry,” she breathed, inhaling a trembling breath as she reached up and wiped at a tear that escaped from her. dora never really had the time to properly grieve. she rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closing as she nuzzled her nose against the crook of his neck. “i miss him. a lot.”

@lupiinee x

[the-haunted-office]

🍁 what is Doom's skin care routine? Does she have any strong opinions of other/popular ones?

Send 🍁 + Any question you’ve been curious to know about my muse!

Doom doesn't have anything complicated as far as skin care routine. She did used to struggle with acne when she was younger, but it's mostly cleared up now that she's an adult.

For the most part, she washes her face in the morning with your average face wash and then again in the evening before going to bed. She has a magnifying mirror that she uses to pick at blemishes and then uses these little patches that sort of "soak up" any of the stuff that's leftover and helps them heal faster.

All in all, she's not too bothered by blemishes and doesn't care about having perfect skin. As long as her face feels clean, she's happy.

Something else of note is she actually dislikes wearing make-up. She's never liked wearing it. She hates the way it makes her face feel. It makes her skin feel like it can't breathe and it puts her into a kind of sensory overload. The only kind of cosmetics she can tolerate is like, nail polish, haha. So, no make-up for her.

[roachliquid]

Got a reply from @rachimiya on my "probably not Super Mutants" post, with a couple of points they wanted to discuss. The reply got deleted due to a misunderstanding, but after talking with them I decided to go ahead and address the main things I remember.

Before I begin, a quick preface: I doubt any of my followers are the kind of dickhead to harass someone over minor differences of opinion, but just to be safe I want to emphasize that this is a friendly disagreement. We all love Thaddeus here, and I'm sure we all agree that however his story continues in season 2, it's going to make good sense and be fun to watch.

So, the first thing I wanted to bring up (and I'm sorry if I'm misremembering what you said here, it's been a while and I have brainfog) is that the blemishing on Thaddeus's neck isn't necessarily indicative of him being a ghoul, since it was basically just the injury scarring over.

This is an understandable way to read the scene, especially if it's been a while since you last saw the actual footage. However, when I recently re-watched the series (funny enough, looking for Super Mutant Thaddeus clues) I realized something peculiar about the shot where his neck is healing. So I got screenshots. >:3

So, this is Thaddeus's neck with the bolt still lodged in it. As we can see, the skin is basically pristine outside of the entry wound. Once Thaddeus removes the bolt, the site starts to heal, and...

I don't have footage of the actual healing scene, but here's a shot of the aftermath. There does look to be a significant scar at the point where the bolt entered, but more bizarrel, there is also a large patch of mottled, uneven skin surrounding that spot. We can see it develop during the part where he heals, with discoloration appearing over what was previously healthy skin.

Now, one of the pieces of Fallout lore that can be difficult to get your hands on is the early signs of ghoulification. Most of the stuff I've seen has just been passed through the fandom by word-of-mouth, and its canonicity is questionable, due to parts of the lore being established before Bethesda purchased the franchise. But I'm nothing if not a nosy bastard, and was able to find this quote on the Fallout wiki, from Fallout 3:

All I know is that people kept showing up here in the museum... ...After a while, things got strange. My skin started to get dry and flake off. Everyone's did. It took a while, months, maybe a year. But sooner or later, everyone ended up like this.

This is just scratching the surface of Ghoul lore, but the main point is that dry and blemished skin is one of the earliest signs to look out for, and that's exactly what this looks like to me.

As for the second thing I remember, they stated that (in their opinion, of course), from a thematic perspective, it wouldn't matter if Thaddeus became a ghoul or a super mutant - either way, he'd be an abomination in the eyes of the Brotherhood.

This is a reasonable thing to conclude if you don't know much about the lore and history of Super Mutants, as rachimiya has indicated they do not. So to explain why I disagree with this assessment, here's a fuller explanation:

In my post, I explained how the Brotherhood of the TV series exemplifies the destructive nature of excessive aggression and machismo, and how Thaddeus's arc looks to be taking him away from that environment. What I didn't mention is that, from the very beginning of Fallout, Super Mutants represent those same exact things. They were originally created by a genocidal overmind called the Master, who forcibly exposed people to a mutagenic virus that turned them into enormous, incredibly powerful warriors, at the cost of dramatically reduced lifespans and infertility, and then mind controlled them into acting out his ambitions.

This is once again just scratching the surface of the lore, but for the sake of brevity, the main relevant point is that when Bethesda took over the series, they leaned into this stuff hard. The overwhelming majority of their Super Mutants are hyperaggressive buffoons, bent on assimilating or destroying everyone other than themselves, but held back from success by their overinflated estimations of their own power and importance.

Or, to put it in short: they represent very nearly the same values as the Brotherhood does in the show.

This contrasts with the Ghouls, who, in both the show and Bethesda's games, are painted as much more sympathetic. They're often treated as second-class citizens, if not entirely subhuman. Similarly to Super Mutants, they tend to keep to themselves, but in this case it's not because they see themselves as better - it's because smoothskins (non-ghouls) are just usually not kind to them. There are certainly exceptions in both directions - some truly despicable characters and even significant villains have been ghouls, and there are plenty who have found humans to coexist with - but it's still an important facet of their lore as a group.

Now, I won't say that you couldn't pull off Super Mutant Thaddeus. There have certainly been Super Mutants in the games who were kind, rational, and generally broke the mold. But I think that being a ghoul suits him much better, because one of the big things we established in season 1 is that he isn't really Brotherhood material. He's compassionate, determined, eager to please, and comically accident-prone - the kind of person who would have died within hours serving a real knight. Now you could milk that contrast for comedy, certainly, but I see it causing a couple of big problems:

First, it would limit Thaddeus's ability to really come into his own on his own terms. Even a kind, reasonable Super Mutant has to be physically coordinated and somewhat aggressive, just to use their own body effectively. This would better suit a character with a skillset like Maximus's - one who is very capable of exerting physical force - or would benefit as a character from developing those skills.

Second, it wouldn't be a good first look at Super Mutants as a whole. The show is generally pretty good at introducing new fans to the lore, and a key component of that is showing the baseline before you subvert it. We can see this with Lucy and her vault, who are presented as what they're "supposed" to be before we learn the truth, and with the Brotherhood, who are very much written to communicate the faults of the organization as clearly as possible.

This isn't to say that there aren't exceptions, but that in itself is relevant. Because our first look at ghouls in the series only covers one facet of the lore. Cooper is a classic ghoul villain - he's cruel, he's callous, and he doesn't appear to have any friends, ghoul or otherwise. It's a great choice for his character, and the gradual reveal of the more unfortunate aspects of ghoulhood is an important part of his arc, helping us grow more sympathetic to him as we gain more knowledge of what he's dealing with.

But it still leaves us with a void in the lore, because we're still mostly seeing how he lives as An Utter Bastard. And this is a void that, IMO, Thaddeus is perfectly poised to fill - because, for all his attempts to do exactly that, he literally couldn't be a callous bastard if his life depended on it. Instead, he's hapless, goofy, and just a regular amount of dickish - prime Regular Ghoul material.

So, that's my thoughts on these particular statements. There is a lot more that I could say about why I've reached some of my conclusions, and if anyone is interested I might go ahead and do that, but for now I'm going to end it here.

[vartrisha]

What is Salicylic Acid

Let's have a Detailed discussion on salicylic acid

The Wonders of Salicylic Acid: A Comprehensive Guide for Clearer, Healthier Skin

Salicylic acid is a popular ingredient in skincare, especially known for its effectiveness in treating acne and exfoliating skin. But what exactly is it, and how does it work? In this blog, we’ll dive into the science behind salicylic acid, explore its many uses, and give you tips on how to incorporate it safely into your skincare routine.

What is Salicylic Acid?

Salicylic acid is a beta hydroxy acid (BHA) derived from willow bark. Unlike alpha hydroxy acids (AHAs), which are water-soluble, salicylic acid is oil-soluble. This solubility allows it to penetrate the lipid layers of the skin, reaching deep into pores to dissolve sebum and dead skin cells. This ability to clear out clogged pores makes it an essential ingredient in acne treatments and exfoliating products.

How Does Salicylic Acid Work?

Salicylic acid works by :

- Exfoliating the Skin: It breaks down the bonds between dead skin cells, helping to remove them from the surface and prevent clogged pores.

- Deeply Penetrating Pores : Being oil-soluble, salicylic acid can dissolve into sebum (oil), helping to clear out pores and reduce blackheads and whiteheads.

- Reducing Inflammation : Known for its anti-inflammatory properties, salicylic acid can soothe the redness and irritation associated with acne, making it a great choice for those with sensitive or acne-prone skin.

Benefits of Salicylic Acid for Skin

1. Acne Treatment : Salicylic acid is highly effective for treating mild to moderate acne. It can prevent future breakouts by keeping pores clear and helping to reduce excess oil.

2. Exfoliation : Regular use of salicylic acid promotes gentle exfoliation, which helps to even out skin tone and improve texture. It can minimize the appearance of fine lines and create a smoother, more radiant complexion.

3. Blackhead and Whitehead Removal : Salicylic acid’s ability to penetrate pores makes it excellent for treating blackheads and whiteheads, as it helps to remove blockages from within the pore.

4. Oil Control : By breaking down sebum, salicylic acid helps control excess oil production, making it ideal for those with oily or combination skin.

5. Reducing Inflammation : Its anti-inflammatory effects make it an effective ingredient for calming irritated, red, or inflamed skin.

Common Uses of Salicylic Acid in Skincare

1. Cleansers : Salicylic acid cleansers are gentle, making them suitable for daily use. They help keep pores clean without overly drying out the skin.

2. Toners : Salicylic acid toners add an extra layer of treatment after cleansing, helping to refine pores and balance oil levels.

3. Serums : Higher concentrations of salicylic acid are often found in serums for targeted acne treatment, especially effective on blackheads and whiteheads.

4. Spot Treatments : For stubborn blemishes, salicylic acid spot treatments can reduce inflammation and speed up healing.

5. Exfoliating Masks and Pads: Many brands offer masks or pads infused with salicylic acid to exfoliate and clarify the skin. These can be used weekly for a deeper treatment.

Who Can Benefit Most from Salicylic Acid?

Salicylic acid is most beneficial for people with:

- Oily and Combination Skin : Because it helps regulate sebum production.

- Acne-Prone Skin : Due to its ability to clear pores and reduce breakouts.

- Blackheads and Whiteheads : Its deep-penetrating properties make it ideal for unclogging pores.

However, those with dry or sensitive skin should use it cautiously, as it may lead to dryness or irritation if overused.

How to Use Salicylic Acid in Your Routine

1. Start Slowly : Begin with a lower concentration (0.5-2%) and gradually build up tolerance. Overuse can lead to irritation.

2. Patch Test : Before using a new salicylic acid product, test it on a small patch of skin to check for any adverse reactions.

3. Apply Once a Day : For most skin types, once-daily application is enough. Using it more frequently can lead to excessive dryness.

4. Follow Up with Moisturizer 🧴 🍦: Salicylic acid can be drying, so it’s essential to keep your skin hydrated with a non-comedogenic moisturizer.

5. Use Sunscreen ☀️ 🏖️ 🧴: Salicylic acid can increase your skin’s sensitivity to the sun, so always wear sunscreen during the day to prevent UV damage.

Potential Side Effects and Precautions

While salicylic acid is generally safe, it can cause dryness, irritation, or peeling, especially if you’re using high concentrations or applying it too frequently. Here are some precautions to take:

- Avoid Overuse : Using too much salicylic acid can damage the skin barrier and lead to redness and irritation.

- Do Not Combine with Strong Exfoliants : Avoid using salicylic acid with other strong acids (like AHAs) or retinoids, as this can increase irritation.

- Be Cautious with Sensitive Skin : If you have sensitive skin, start with products containing a lower concentration of salicylic acid or consider using it every other day.

Frequently Asked Questions About Salicylic Acid

1. How long does it take to see results with salicylic acid?

It can take 2 to 4 weeks to see noticeable results, as the acid works gradually to clear pores and reduce acne. Consistency is key, so stick with it.

2. Can I use salicylic acid with other skincare ingredients?

Yes, salicylic acid pairs well with hydrating ingredients like hyaluronic acid and soothing agents like niacinamide. However, avoid combining it with other strong exfoliants to minimize irritation.

3. Is salicylic acid safe for daily use?

Yes, salicylic acid is safe for daily use at lower concentrations (0.5-2%), though starting with a few times a week may help prevent irritation as your skin adjusts.

4. Should I use salicylic acid if I have dry skin?

Those with dry skin should use it sparingly and follow up with a hydrating moisturizer. You may also consider using it just once or twice a week to avoid excessive dryness.

Conclusion: Embrace the Power of Salicylic Acid

Salicylic acid is a fantastic ingredient for anyone looking to improve their skin’s clarity and texture, especially for those prone to acne or oily skin. By understanding its properties and using it wisely, you can achieve smoother, clearer skin with a healthy glow. Remember to introduce it gradually into your skincare routine, pair it with hydrating ingredients, and always protect your skin with sunscreen. Embrace the science behind skincare, and let salicylic acid work its magic for a clearer, more radiant complexion.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

THINGS YOUR MUSE WILL NOTICE ABOUT MINE. (Repost, don't Reblog, please!)

WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE:

Big, deep brown, almond-shaped eyes with creases at their corners lend to Doe’s broad, beaming smile. Still, something doesn’t sit well in her eyes, like porcelain fruit. Big, beautiful and fawnlike as they are, there’s a level of emptiness and vacancy behind them. Lights are on, but nobody is home. Maybe it’s the lack of focus, wide and shining but unfocused, staring at something far away and unseen to the rest of the world. Perhaps it’s the quiet weariness carried under them, bags partially hidden with makeup and glitter but evident in the lack of light behind her expressions. Either way, it’s unnerving at the best of times.

BIIIIIG expressions. Doe doesn't emote like most people. Oscillating between a neutral facial expression that denotes nothing at all, just a wide-eyed, almost haunted deer in the headlights vacancy that's evocative of porcelain dolls watching from a shelf to full-bodied, all emotion and no-holds-barred expressions of her feelings, like toothy, full-faced expressions of pure energy. Toothy mouth open, cackling grins, feral snarls like something out of an animal, not a human, and full gross sobs. Now, it should be said that Doe does feel sheepish about this. Quickly shying up and returning to her neutral and controlled expression when called on it. Still! unnerving queen!

Very, very emotive with her hands, arms, legs and everything. When she's feeling, she's feeling HEAVILY, and the emotions seem to affect her like a kid's toy tapped onto a generator instead of a double A battery. She's hopping in place, pointing, gesturing, everything.

Constrained body language, though, when left to her own devices, she likes to keep her hands, legs and arms to herself. Refusing to sit with legs spread or arms splayed out, even when utterly comfortable with her surroundings.

FRECKLES!!! Doe is covered in freckles and moles, concentrated most on her cheeks and upper back in a bountiful constellation of markings. She avoids covering with makeup and instead tries to enhance with methods like liners and slightly lighter blemish cover. 

A squint in her left eye (ptosis), one of few remnants of her skull and face improperly being healed through the afterlife process after being crushed in during her death.

Short and petite, no taller than 5'0 when standing straight up and often smaller with the slight slouch in her appearance. Curvy build with a wide if boxy, bust and hips.

Distinct personal fashion sense that blends the line between maximalism, 80s high glam, hair metal and punk/counterculture aesthetics (specifically those associated with lesbian and bisexual communities). Featuring many layers, leather & denim, HEAVY personalization (painting, embroidery, patches), different clashing patterns, too many belts, bright colors, metallic incorporation, accessories and provocative fits.

Dresses in almost exclusively Jewel-Tones (Blues, Purples, Reds, Pinks, Yellows & Turquoise Greens)

BIG HAIR!!!! It's the 80s, so it's a given, but I HAVE to mention that she often has it either curled and styled with varying degrees of mess from day-to-day wear or actively in curlers. She's very rarely seen with her natural texture and style on display.

ALWAYS wearing makeup, usually just lip gloss and lipsticks and eyeshadows. I'm not fond of foundations, though!

Somehow, despite the Raccoon-energy that defines Doe, she maintains a neat and made-up appearance that's earned her the nickname 'princess' by many for the high-maintenance vibes she evokes. Something, something, she looks plastic!

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE:

Understated but not undetectable base of a clean, floral, baby-powder-like aroma reminiscent of fresh wet laundry on the line

Thick and heavy overcoat of an almost intoxicating, floral & chemical-laden musk distinctive of cheap hairspray, mousse and bustling hair salons on a Sunday afternoon

Beneath the perfume of her hair products, Doe has a distinctive, almost nature-evoking blend of sweet amber, gardenia & jasmine, black cherry, nectarines, grapefruit, fallen leaves and wood.

Clothing has a thin aroma of cigarette and skunky smoke musk clinging to it, droned out by the already loud scents of her perfume and body products.

Breath is generally unnotable, though tinged with sweetness and minty freshness from her sugar-loving diet and gum-chewing habit.

WHAT THEY TASTE LIKE:

Sticky, sickly-sweet cherry-flavouring painted across her lips, harkening to those few bittersweet maraschinos swimming at the bottom of a half-drunk cocktail, festive, blood-red heart-shaped suckers and menthol-laced cough drops. It's an unnatural, overpowering, fruity concoction with a hint of a sour kick. Evocative more of her personality than the times.

Often, Doe's kiss comes with a warm, menthol tang on the tongue and in the back of the throat, resulting from a long-held habit of chewing gum to alleviate subconscious jaw clenching.

Depending on the situation, the stale taste of stagnant, metallic blood. The leftover remnants of a recent death or attack against her.

WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE:

High-pitched but silvery and dulcet-toned.

Gregarious but not at all loud, though she will talk at length whenever her body and mind allow her, her volume is quiet and softly spoken, maybe two or three steps above a whisper that often becomes muddled out in the presence of other people, which frustrates her to no end.

Playful, non-fussed lilt to her words, often not seeming to take anything TOO seriously. Part confidence and part pure mischief but all Doe!

Notable slur to her words that worsens, to the point of her speech being difficult to understand when speaking at length and with overwhelming emotion.

Very distinct Western Canadian accent that can be confused for an American accent until she goes to pronounce certain words, such as plague (pl-AG), drama (DRA-ma), lever (LEE-ver), z (zed), etc.

Kind of an evil, wicked witch of the west cackle, though! It's a point of playful mocking, but she will audibly titter with an 'ehehehehe'

WHAT THEY FEEL LIKE:

VERY soft skin that dips and dimples where numerous scars can be felt in her skin,

Mismatched, the constantly changes between the clothing she layers and the level of care Doe pays attention to certain features of herself lends to a confusing sensory experience but one that perfectly suits her

TAGGED BY: myself! Which is to say I stole it, but tomato tomato! Haha TAGGING: @coastercrushed, @neverscored, @mxlevolence (& for Loki!), @markedprey, @who-is-muses, @vcngefulwrath, @slateir & @horrifichaunts

[missanthropicprinciple]

Finishing up my Saturday evening (it's 3am on Sunday FYI) with a severely chapped nose, healing sunburn, messy hair, in need of a shower, covered in blemish patches, and my right foot taped up because the night splint I got for my heel spur won't arrive for a while yet (seriously I could not find this thing in stores wtf).

[dandelionsandderivatives]

I keep seeing people with cute stickers on their faces – some are the ones to help heal zits, but some I think are just decorative – and I have to say that I really didn't call "patches in fun shapes that may or may not conceal a skin blemish" as the 18th-century fashion trend that would come back this year.