#TW: scar mention

[enjomo-arch]

that  one  prompt  i  sent  out  made  me  think  ...  that  the  chest  scar  after  the  war  and  scars  around  the  wrtists  after  prison  do  hurt  ace,  still.  not  physically.  his  body  may  be  healing  but  he  will  never  truly  heal  from  the  pain  and  anxiety  he  felt  back  then.  the  way  he  was  questioning  himself  in  impel  down,   he  was  questioning  his  own  strength  and  came  across  the  thought  that  his  only  real  destiny  was  to  die  regardless,  that  he  disappointed  edward,  then  the  information  of  luffy  trying  to  risk  himself  breaking  into  the  jail  and  lastly  the  marineford  itself  and  the  way  ace  had  to  watch  his  family,   his  father  and  everyone  die  while  he  was  chained  to  the  execution  platform  and  he  couldn't  do  anything  about  it  but  watch.  the  way  it  reminds  him  that  his  little  brother  could've  been  killed  because  of  him.  it  hurts  him,  a  lot.  and  it  will  hurt  even  if  his  body  feels  fine. his chest scar, and the fact the back scar damaged his tattoo. it all damaged ace from the inside so much he feels like it ripped him clean from his life and purpose.

[ryeonah]

Ryeon was no stranger to rage and death or years of pain. In another life, she might have sworn to god she had the answers for most things life had thrown her way. There is a bitter realization in knowing one's prayers go unanswered and that nobody was ever truly listening. A steely gaze greeted the other, arms folding over her chest — an action she often did, an indication of displeasure and annoyance. Life and humans were infinitely complex, and it was in their darkness that she often saw their inner struggles, reaching out for someone to acknowledge how there was an emptiness in the place life had once been. She could understand this only because of her scars hidden beneath red threads; in her own pain and guilt, she sought to try and fix a broken world.

❝ If that is how you truly feel, then why are you still here? Why have you stayed when you said you were going to leave multiple times? ❞ She demanded after a moment, her tone perhaps harsher than it needed to be. She was a being that had crawled from the gallows of hell, aimlessly wandering and plagued by the anguish of someone she would never meet again (or so she had once thought). ❝ I will not stop you if you wish to leave. But you and I both know there is a reason why you are still standing before me. ❞

In times like this, it was easy to pretend she was something that she wasn't, something alive and human. She found it easy to lie about who she was to everyone she encountered, having done it for decades, finding it easier to lie and let the guilt rot away at her ribcage than it was to admit to the ugly truth. ❝ Your rage is misplaced here; you will come to find that I am no enemy. ❞ She commented, her words breaching the silence that had once settled over them. Then again, such a sentiment was up for debate as she was no stranger to engaging in violence when it was called for.

@pohlepen // ☙ 

[raynes-musings]

  —   &  the scars don't write a song for me at all   —

[marble-hand]

Closed starter for Santi Amarin-Zhao ( @santi-u )

Val woke with the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The warmth of Santi’s body nestled against his brought a contented smile to his lips. For a few minutes, Val simply watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. In these quiet moments, when the world outside their door was still, Val felt a deep sense of peace—a peace he knew he was willing to do anything to protect.

He’d become an Overseer to safeguard the people he loved, to ensure that the darkness that lurked in the corners of New Jakarta never touched them. But this... this was different. This wasn’t about duty or honor or any of the ideals he’d sworn to uphold. This was personal. In little less than a year, he’d fallen for Santi in ways he hadn’t expected, ways he wasn’t quite brave enough to put into words just yet.

As he shifted slightly, the morning light caught on something just beneath Santi's skin. A series of faint scars that crisscrossed Santi’s body, almost invisible but undeniable in the right light. Val's heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. He’d always had a hunch, noticed them in passing when the moonlight grazed Santi’s skin, but in the clarity of the morning, they were definitely there. 

For a while, Val stayed quiet, his mind turning over the discovery. He wanted to ask, to know what had happened, but it felt wrong to do so the moment Santi woke up. Maybe it was wrong to ask at all. But he couldn’t just ignore it either. So, instead, he brushed a gentle hand along Santi's arm, hoping the contact would be comforting to Santi as he greeted the day.

When Santi stirred, Val hesitated for a moment, then decided to offer something of his own first. “Hey, Santi…,” he began softly, his voice still hushed with sleep, “Did I ever tell you about how I got these?” He paused and wrestled his arm out from under the sheets to show him. 

“Got this one,” he continued, pointing to a faint mark on his forearm, “when I was just a kid. Tried to pull a tray out of the bakery oven without the mitts. I was so excited to see what I’d made that I forgot. Ended up with a burn so bad, I couldn’t use that arm for days.” He chuckled lightly at the memory, though his eyes remained serious. “Then there was this one,” he gestured to his side, “from a fight I got into protecting a classmate from a bully. Got suspended for it, but my whole class protested until I was allowed back a day later. And...”

His voice trailed off as sat up a little to show the large scar on his back, one that held a deeper significance. “This one’s from my early days as an Overseer. Thought it was just a ‘training’ session. Turned out to be hazing, and it almost went too far. But I made it through. And that’s when I learned… there were bad people out there only pretending to be good.”

He let out a slow breath now that he was done rambling, his eyes meeting Santi’s. “So... so, yeah. I’m not telling you this because I expect anything in return,” Val murmured, his thumb brushing gently over Santi’s skin. “Just… wanted you to know, if there’s ever anything you want to share, you’re not alone. I’m here, okay?”

Val then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Santi’s forehead, trying to convey the support and love he felt, even if the words might not come easily.

[daiwild]

changing room mishap

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

[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. 

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

stories left untold

18+, mdni.

been cooking up this one for awhile i hope y’all like it

readers can expect: fem reader, an established relationship: playful banter with big ‘ol boyfriend jason todd, flirting in a dressing room, car sex, fingering, unprotected penetration (reader is on birth control), a resulting creampie , tw mention and discussion of scarring, it ends a little angsty if you squint

your boyfriend, jason todd, loves literature.

but the only thing you read is him. as long as the two of you are dating, you’ll never want a book.

he’s covered in stories. the scars scattering his body tell you about his past, even if he might be hesitant to. but he humors you, relishes in the fluttery feeling of your delicate fingers all over his massive body.

and sometimes, he’ll tell you the story himself, if you’re lucky.

you’re straddling him, the couch cushions dipping under your knees. you’ve never talked about it, but you somehow always end up on his lap.

jason loves it, because he gets to study you up close, under the guise of you doing the same to him. his hands roam over your thighs and hips, his callouses creating friction against your smooth skin. having you on his lap grounds him, having you so close keeps him sane. you hum as you run a thumb over the scar on his lip, leaning down, kissing him.

“got that one fightin’ as robin-” he starts. you pepper his face with kisses, reaching his mouth again and cutting him off.

he smiles as he kisses you back, pinching your waist and making you squirm for interrupting him.

“as i was sayin’, i was up against some of two-face’s goons,” he continues. “two of ‘em, ironically enough—”

you kiss him again, biting his lip. he groans low in his throat, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“you gotta stop with that. let me finish.”

you shake your head, batting your eyelashes at him. he playfully rolls his eyes, and reaches his own hand up to your face to tug on your bottom lip.

“but i was up against two of ‘em, and while i had it under control, batman dropped in to help me,” he eyes you warily, leaning his head back.

you widen your eyes at him like a warning, a stupid grin on your face.

“but bats surprised me, and one of the goons took that opportunity to split my lip open. thanks a lot, guy, right?” jason pushes his lip out to show you the scar.

“the thing is, i wouldn’t have this scar without the element of surprise, which, in my line of work, is a crucial thing to be able to employ.” his thumb twitches where it’s resting on your waist.

before you know it, he’s spun you around and down, your back on the couch cushions that your knees were just pressed into. a smile plays on your boyfriend’s lips, making his scar dance. he lowers himself over you, flicking the button of your jean shorts open.

round one: you.

he’s following you around a department store as you look at clothes, his muscular forearm supporting the weight of all the clothes you’ve tossed his way.

he lumbers after you dutifully, just happy to be there.

some dude hits your shoulder as you walk past. it was pretty hard, but you don’t even think of it. it’s saturday, the mall is insanely crowded—you’re bound to get bumped into.

you glance back to make sure jason is still following you, but instead catch a glimpse of the daggers he’s staring at the man that shoved into you. you giggle to yourself, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and pulling him away.

he’s still glowering, even now in the perfume department.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say this is you pouting.” you stare at him pointedly.

“people need to watch where they’re goin’.” jason shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

“jay, i’m not some delicate flower.” you smile up at your boyfriend, linking his fingers with yours. he nods, agreeing. “but thank you for looking out for me. i love you.”

“love you too, princess.” his face softens as he gives you a little smile.

you pull up your intertwining hands to eye level. “now what about this one?”

his eyes flash as he realizes what you’re indicating. a scar snakes up the length of his index finger, white and defined against the tanned skin of his hand.

“paper cut.”

you’re in the dressing room now, your giant boyfriend sitting on a little stool next to the floor to ceiling mirror. you twirl, turning this way and that to see all angles of your reflection.

you turn to him, raising your eyebrows. he shakes his head, frowning at the deep blue dress you’re modeling.

you sigh, taking it off to toss it in jason’s face. he makes a choked noise, pulling the dress off of his head. he smirks at your lack of clothing, looking you up and down.

“oh, keep it in your pants,” you scoff, grabbing another dress off its hanger. “so, your finger?”

“bad paper cut.” jason deadpans as he puts the blue dress back onto its hanger.

you blink at him, surprised at the lack of story.

jason nods at you. “a really bad papercut.”

you make a face when you realize he’s bullshitting you.

“no, jay. really.”

he sighs, feigning annoyance. “so nosy!”

you shoot him a look before stepping into the dress, turning around so he can help you. he stands. his hand brushes your ass.

“jay.”

he chuckles under his breath, caught. “sorry, i couldn’t find the zipper.”

“riiiight.” you smile to yourself as he slowly pulls the zipper up your back.

he leans down, brushing your hair to one side.

he kisses your neck, sneaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. good thing, too. your knees would’ve given out with no support if he’d kept up the attention to your neck.

his eyes are on you in the mirror, hungry, tracing their way up your body in this dress. something nudges your ass, and you snuggle back into your boyfriend. he nips your earlobe. his other hand reaches up to your tit, finding your nipple through the fabric of the dress. it peaks at the feeling of his fingers, rolling the nub between his thumb and index. you let out a breath, and watch jason’s eyes darken in his reflection. the spot behind your legs starts throbbing. it sort of jolts you back into reality, and you turn out of jason’s arms. the look on his face makes you want to burst out laughing. you poke his stomach.

“jay, we’re in a dressing room!”

his eyes glint as he inclines his head, wrapping his arm back around you.

“your point?”

he pulls you flush to his body, and the two of you connect like puzzle pieces. you let out a breath at feeling his hard cock pressing into your stomach. you grab the collar of his shirt, and he leans his face down towards yours. he slants his lips, parting them with his eyes fixed on yours. you dodge him, giving him a little kiss on the nose. he harrumphs under his breath at being swerved, grumpy. you wrap your arms around his neck, batting your eyelashes at him.

“take us home?”

“sure thing, princess.”

you turn around so he can unzip you, and you watch him in the mirror. his lips are stretched into a smile. jason kisses your cheek as the deep red dress drops to the floor.

“so i’ll buy this one?” you ask as you put your clothes back on.

he’s got a hungry look in his eyes as he nods, running a hand through his hair.

you check out, your boyfriend tapping his card on the reader and flashing you a smile. the sales clerk is practically drooling. hey, you can’t blame ‘em, but still.

all jason can think about is the way you were looking at him in the dressing room.

he’s contemplating the logistics of installing a floor to ceiling mirror on the wall opposite his bed when you slide an arm around his waist. his arm automatically slings around your shoulders, and he presses a tender kiss to your hairline.

he grabs the bag from the cashier and your hand with his free one, leading you out to the car.

“baby, what?”

“what? jay, i didn’t say anything.”

“your body language is sayin’ plenty, princess.” he side eyes you, his lips pursed.

“the cashier was checking you out. like, pretty hard.”

jason grimaces as he unlocks the car.

“ew.”

he opens your door for you, closing it after you’re seated and buckled.

he gives you a quick kiss, starting the car. the sun is setting, painting the two of you in a soft, golden light. his hand finds your thigh like they’re magnetized, giving it a squeeze. seeing his fingers pressing into the smooth skin of your thigh reminds you of the conversation you’d been having.

“hey, jason?”

“hm?” he glances away from the road, gauging your expression.

“so what is that scar from?”

“i told you, princess, paper. it’s a paper cut.” the corner of his mouth is twitching, he can’t even keep a straight face.

“jay, oh my god.”

“if you must know, it’s from when i learned how to throw batarangs.”

he launches into the story as streetlights wink in and out of the windows, flashing through the car. his tale involves a much younger batman and a very stressed out alfred standing by with a med kit.

“i almost lost my finger.”

“you’re like, way too nonchalant about that.”

“psh, i’m nothing but chalant, baby.”

you giggle, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drives. he suddenly switches lanes, turning the car into an empty parking lot. he parks, turning the car off.

you look at your boyfriend, amused.

“you are so easy.”

he leans over the center console, pulling you into a deep kiss. he bites your bottom lip, sparking a fire in your lower belly. he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“you can’t expect me to just sit here and do nothing when you play with my hair like that.”

“oh, so chalant.”

he scoffs, scooting his seat all the way back. “just get over here.”

thankful for nightfall, you unbuckle, climbing over the center console to straddle him. you make it onto his lap, feeling his rigid length even through the layers of fabric between the two of you. you cock an eyebrow, surprised he’s already fully hard. jason looks away sheepishly.

“you were bein’ a tease in the dressing room.” he cups your ass, squeezing. “help me out, princess?”

you nod, smiling and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. a nearby streetlight sheds just enough light into the car, as he runs his hands up your thighs, you grinding your hips against the length between his legs. he groans, and you reach down to unbutton his pants. the wet spot in your underwear grows as he nips and sucks along your jaw. he kisses your neck, moving down to your collarbone as you scoot his pants down his legs. he tenses as you brush your hand along his cock, smiling up at him.

“hi, gorgeous.” he says, as he kisses you on the cheek.

“hi, jason.” you reply, looking up at him through your lashes.

your boyfriend suddenly grabs you by the waist, shifting you so that you’re turned around, facing the steering wheel. you make a surprised noise, repositioning on his lap to get your balance. jason groans in response, your ass flush to his crotch. you lean back against him as his hand makes its way under your waistband, brushing against the curls covering your sex.

“may i?” he whispers, his voice rumbling into your ear.

“mmhm,” you reply, desperate for some relief.

his other hand cups your tit, giving it a squeeze. the familiar calluses on his fingers brush your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through your body, but he goes lower, sliding two fingers along your entrance. he gathers the wetness, rubbing your aching folds. his fingers start working between your legs, rubbing your clit in the familiar rhythm he knows you like. you stifle a moan, the pace already bringing you dangerously close to the edge.

“good thing i still have that finger.”

you can practically feel his smirk from behind you.

“oh, shut up.” you retort, shaking your head.

“well, since you asked so nicely.” he replies, punctuating the work of his fingers with kisses on your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. jason nudges your legs wider with his, opening the gap of your thighs to bracket his legs. he reaches into your underwear with his other hand, gathering slick on his middle finger.

“all good, princess?”

“yes, jay.” you peek up at him, smiling.

he kisses your forehead, holding eye contact as he slides his finger into your entrance. you moan at the intrusion, growing louder as he adds a second finger. all the while he keeps up his pace on that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“that’s right, beautiful. let me hear you.” jason kisses your shoulder, his fingers curling inside you, hitting just right.

you say your boyfriend’s name, causing him to pick up speed, groaning low in his throat. you feel his cock twitch under you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your toes, whining, as it all becomes too much, shuddering as the orgasm crests like a wave. your boyfriend continues working on your clit while you ride out your orgasm. you lean back against him, breathing heavily. he takes his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. he grabs your jaw, kissing you, his fingers wet against your skin. he leans down to take your shoes off, tossing them onto the passenger’s side. he pulls your underwear all the way off, hooking them around the stickshift. he loops an arm around your waist, lifting you off of him to shove his boxers and pants down to his ankles, exposing the muscles of his massive thighs. he sets you back down, and you rub your wetness against the length of his ruddy cock, his tip shiny with precum. jason hisses, his head falling back against the headrest, his eyes closed.

you smile, loving that no matter how often the two of you do it, his reaction is always the same. like he hasn’t been touched in years, like he’s been blessed by the powers that be to have this moment with you. jason peers down at you, his jaw clenching as you grind against him. he scoots down the seat, shifting, taking the liberty to turn you again. you face him, settling your hands on his shoulders. he swipes a thumb across your clit, and you hum, your thighs tensing.

“like that, princess?”

“uh-huh,” you reply, breathless.

“you want more?”

“obviously.”

your boyfriend chuckles at your response, pinching your waist.

“anything for you,” he replies, taking himself in his hand.

jason fists his cock, pumping once, twice, before grabbing your hips and angling you over his length. you suck in a breath as his tip opens your entrance, jason focused on giving it to you slowly, giving it to you so you can take it all. you fist a hand into the fabric of his t-shirt, catching a glimpse of his biggest scar, marring the path of hair from his belly button into the junction of his thighs. he’s never told you the story behind that one. but it’s a harsh reminder of how much your boyfriend’s been through, how hard he’s lived. but he’s still here with you, still here to have these moments with you. he pulls out, only to thrust back in, increasing the stretch. the slight squeeze of his hands on your waist only increases the pleasure, the feeling of being weightless in your boyfriend’s grip only furthers your need for all of him.

“please, jay?”

jason looks up in surprise, squinting at you. you’re not one to beg, and he’s usually not one to make you. he’d give you the world if he could.

“whatever you want, princess.” he slowly thrusts all the way inside of you, still wanting it to be comfortable for you. bottoming out, he groans, grabbing your thigh. “feel so good, baby.”

you hum in agreement, pulling yourself up to find the friction you’re looking for. your boyfriend gets the hint, placing one hand back on your hip, the other with a thumb at your clit. you moan at the sensation, jason picking up the pace. he doubts he’ll last long with how needy you’re being, needy for him, especially in this position. you lean forward into the hard planes of his chest, and his hands find your ass. thrusting into you, fucking you, hard. the wet sounds of skin slapping echoes out into his car, bouncing off of the fogged up windows.

“wet for me, huh, princess?” jason growls into your ear, driving into you harder.

you whine into the crook of his neck, a hand gripping at the hair on the back of his head.

jason grunts at the feeling, nipping and licking at the soft skin of your neck.

“‘m close, baby.” the rhythm he’s found is perfect for the both of you, the angle leaving you breathless.

jason’s thighs flex under you as he finishes inside you with a shout, groaning as he plants a warm kiss on your lips. you lean back, and his hand finds your clit again, circling the sensitive nub. he thrusts into you, hissing through his teeth. your back arches as your second orgasm rocks you, leaving you moaning and panting.

your boyfriend can’t take his eyes off of you, off of your fluids mixing on his cock. jason kisses you, swallowing your sounds as his tongue finds yours, swiping through your parted lips. he rubs your back as you nestle against him, the two of you breathing heavily.

round two: you.

some part of him, some deep, dark part, worries that one day he’ll tell you the story behind one of his scars, and it’ll scare you away. it’s not rational, he knows that, but who said anything about being rational?

you’ll never actually push him for a story, or an explanation, knowing he’ll tell you in his own time.

you doubt he’ll ever tell you the story behind his biggest scar, the one that runs up the length of his chiseled torso, branching off across his chest to his shoulders in a Y shape.

once when you were laying in bed together, talking, cuddling, kissing, you traced it with your fingertip, following the line of it down to his waistband. you stopped when he drew in a breath, pulling your hand back. the acute pain expressed in his eyes surprised you.

you tried to apologize, eyebrows pinched, wondering why he looked like he was in pain when the scar was long healed.

jason was panicked, his heart fluttering behind his ribcage at the prospect of confessing his biggest secret to you. he couldn’t tell you, even though he knows he should. he wouldn’t even know where to start, even though he knows he should at least start somewhere. he just wouldn’t know how to tell you that he’d died and come back to life.

so he kissed you instead.

your mind rushed with thoughts as you wrestled with making him explain or letting him distract you with his lips, his body over yours, his huge forearms bracketing your head. he nudged your legs apart with his knee and you were hopeless.

round three: jason.

[aurorangen]

For how long will I have to live with this pain?

Transcript:

[Starting high school was a fresh start for me. I met new people and my best friends were by my side. I made lots of happy memories and forgot the bad things from primary school. It was all perfect when it began]

[That day, it started like any other day until I got to school. I was met with staring eyes and whispering voices. Talks about a missing person. Kingsley? Could he be related to Ashton Kingsley? 4 months have passed since the shed incident and we never talked about him at home. I hadn't thought about him in a while]

[Billy drove me home after school and I asked about the missing person case. The man was Dr Anton Boerescu and he showed me the newspaper, it was that doctor again. He kept quiet about my dad when he talked though. I was reading the article then looked up and saw an undercover police car parked on my house drive]

Police Officer: Payton Wilkinson, you are under arrest for the murder of Ashton Kingsley-

[My heart was racing and I was too stunned to speak. I couldn't understand what was happening. Billy tried to take control of the situation, demanding details as he recognised the officers from the other station]

[I wanted to run to my mum, but I was stopped and I froze at the sight. All I could see was her shaking while being handcuffed, crying and denying the accusations. I could hear Billy contacting his chief: he had no power]

Payton: [begging] Please! I would never do such a thing! Billy take care of Vincent! Make sure nothing-

[I was so scared: the police were arresting her for murder. I didn't know what to believe and started suspecting my own mother. The times she didn't seem like her usual self, if she was at work while I was at school, how much she despised him, why she has never mentioned his name. I fell to my knees. She couldn't have, could she?]

[clownpalette]

You have to move on!

Fr revenge's tears is like the goriest story I have 💀💀 (spoiler) everyone dies at the end-

[enjomo-arch]

𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗗 : 𝗦𝗔𝗕𝗢 / @ofpersistence

❝  looks worse than it was.  ❞

❝  Nah,  don't  say  that.  ❞  A  simple  shook  of  his  head.  The  more  his  eyes  looked  over  the  burn  scars  adoring  his  brother's  body,  the  more  sorry  he  felt  that  Sabo  had  to  suffer  through  something  like  this.  Even  so,  he  wouldn't  say  they  looked  bad  or  disgusting.  However,  apparently  Sabo  had  a  different  opinion  about  it.  Half  of  his  chest  was  burnt,  extending  down  his  arm  to  his  face.  He  had  no  idea  what  the  blond  must  have  been  going  through  when  they  were  separated  from  each  other,  but  something  told  him  that  Sabo  needed  more  comfort  now  than  ever.  Especially  when  he  was  brave  enough  to  show  his  scars  and  past  wrongs  in  front  of  Ace.  

The  Fire  Fist  stepped  closer,  hanging  an  arm  over  his  brother's  shoulders  with  a  wide  grin.  Like  a  ray  of  the  sun,  shining  over  the  awkward  situation  happening  between  them,  to  wash  it  over  and  the  worries  within  Sabo's  head.  ❝  Hey,  whatever  happened,  Sabo  you  were  strong  enough  to  survive.  Look  at  me,  I  have  a  huge  fuckin'  hole  on  my  heart  from  my  surgery.  Even  though  it  reminds  me  of  the  worst  in  a  way  it  is  my  trophy.  If  me  and  Torao  hadn't  fought  for  my  life,  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  spend  time  with  ya'  now,  right  ?  I'm  kinda  glad  I  have  it.  Even  if  it  disfigures  me,  I  don't  really  care.  You  look  badass  as  fuck  to  me  anyway.  ❞  He  laughed,  so  loud  with  the  usual  bright  enthusiasm,  throwing  his  head  back  and  swaying  left  and  right  with  Sabo  still  carrying  the  weight  of  Ace's  arm  hooked  over  his  shoulder.

[kdramamilfs]

"I got these scars when I was tortured in Manchuria. When I first took off my clothes in front of the Deputy, I told him they were self-inflicted, and he loved it. Sick pervert ... But his perversion made it easier for me to serve my country."

PHANTOM | 유령 (2023) dir. Lee Hae-young

[infizero-draws]

sigh. alexa play icarus by the crane wives

[cistematicchaos]

Y’all DO know self-harm is included in body positivity/neutrality, right? You should not be shaming people for self-harming OR having self-harm scars, much less shaming them for their scars being visible. 

It’s not “setting a bad example” or “encouraging” self-harm to not be an ass about it. That’s literally in the basis of body positivity/neutrality. 

[simandy]

Having my worst day so far 👍

[xxl1ghtxx]

Tw: scars, and keep yourself safe

WHY IS HE SLAYING 😭😭😭

[itsguysnightitsironic]

POV: You're getting adopted into a polycube after trying to murder them while on drugs

Put him in your pockets! PUT HIM IN YOUR POCKET--