#Trigger scars

[khoirkid]

Better than I know myself - IsArt sketches in collaboration with @amethystfairy1

[expealidocious]

reference sheet for ayla (dark urge) and their scars

placement and descriptions below!

[dotcircledot]

old sketch page thing that my friend convinced me to post here

[jisatsuwaifu]

Sometimes I forget I exist oops

Like/Reblog

[vanixing-thts]

[...Tinkertoy 🗝...]

(New, improved, and dedicated to the amazing people @projectdestati )

Emergency Commissions open! ⊂( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)⊃

[canines-crown]

I have fins now🤭🥰😈

I've tried them out already, swimming is so much fun with them!!

[greenieart]

I was inspired.

[00dermelancholie00]

the fucking dubbing studio for the latin spanish dub mightve leaked a striker s3 design???

WHAT IS HAPPENING 😭

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

So they're pretty basic but they've got polka dots, they're basically a 6 but the polka dots make them a 100 in my heart.

dyke here, men and minors dni 🪻

[braverytattoos]

Louis showing off his scar

[bookshelf-dust]

Hii love!! I absolutely LOVE your works and was wondering if you could write a fic where Billy finds the readers s/h scars and asks about it? The reader kinda opens about why they did and Billy is super confused about why you would purposely hurt yourself, but he swears to himself he’d never let you do that again?? If not, that’s perfectly fine, i know this topic is pretty sensitive to people🤍🤍

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,513

warnings: SH trigger warning!! please heed that. mentions of self harm (specifically cutting), scars described, areas on skin. all scars are healed and reader has recovered. please do not read this if this will make you uncomfortable. this is meant to be comforting and let you know that things do get better. it is about acceptance and change.

a/n: anon!! thank you for this idea. i just want to put it out there that i’m not taking requests for the foreseeable future, and haven’t been for quite awhile, but i got sent this and i felt really compelled to write it because it’s something that’s important to me. i felt like i could do it justice, at least a little bit, and i really hope that it will provide you with some comfort. this is something close to my heart, and my goal here is that it will reach someone the right way and encourage them to keep going. i love you all so much!! please go easy on me as i’ve never written anything like this before. also did a bit of a different format! anyway, mwah! 🥰

————

Billy knows you’re shy. Of course he does. 

But he wants you to feel as comfortable with him as he does with you. He’s never felt as relaxed and safe as he does when he’s around you. Hell, he’s never allowed himself to let his guard down in this way. 

Inviting you to sleep over was his olive branch, hoping you’d have a space where you could be fully you. He has the house to himself, and he knows that will help ease your anxiety. All Billy wants is to give you all that you’ve given him. And maybe more.

Billy had just stripped, pulling on sweats and an old t-shirt, not caring whether you saw him in his underwear. He’s yours anyway. Sure, you haven’t gone very far in your relationship, but he still wants you to see how comfortable you’ve made him. He’s never done this casual intimacy thing before. 

“I’ll be just a second, okay?” You give him a gentle smile, feet softly padding against the worn hardwoods, sleeve brushing the door frame as you walk by. 

Billy watches you walk out of his room with your pajamas tucked under your elbow. “Okay, baby.” 

He busies himself while you’re gone, straightening the bed, finding the tv remote. (He’d never be allowed to roll it into his room if he weren’t home alone.) He figures you’re taking your makeup off too, maybe doing something with your hair, and heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you both to share. 

In the bathroom, you take a deep breath as you pull on your nightgown. You don’t pride yourself in having nice or fancy things to sleep in, but you felt like bringing this with you because it’s one of the few things you own that makes you feel pretty. Something about a freshly washed face and the soft fabric make you all…content. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The gown is not tight by any means, and actually a color that brings out your eyes. It has little bows on the sleeves and a tiny strip of lace at the hem. You don’t tend to dress for anyone but yourself, but you do think Billy will like this. Some part of you craves that feeling. 

He’s never even seen your legs before, much less your collarbones. And not because you’re trying to be modest, but because it’s been cold and any other opportunity hasn’t presented itself. Showing someone so much of yourself is harder than you anticipated. And you anticipated quite a bit of work. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, shaking out your arms. You can’t help but be nervous. You’ve never slept over with a boy before. But it’s Billy. Your Billy. What is there to be worried about?

Billy returns to his bedroom shortly after you’ve sat down and queued up the movie for you both to watch. You take the popcorn he offers you, the socks that are much too big, and snuggle into the worn pillows propped up against his headboard. 

You’re sitting too far away for Billy’s liking, munching on your snack and trying to focus on the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street as if you haven’t seen it over ten times. His eyes can’t stop dragging over your bare legs. This is the first time he’s seen them, and he wants you and all that skin closer.

“Baby,” he drawls.

You can feel his big blue eyes on you, but for once you really are paying attention. “Yeah?” you hum, licking butter from the tip of your thumb.

You don’t even look over at him, and Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. The noise prompts you to spare a glance in his direction, but he’s already got an arm wrapped around your thigh, yanking you across the sheets until you’re pressed against his side. 

He tries not to convey how excited he is that he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, how soft your inner thigh feels. He frees you though, laughing at the “Oomph” you let out before settling yourself more comfortably. 

You swing your leg over both of Billy’s, handing him your popcorn remains and resting your head on his shoulder. He happily sticks his hand in your little bowl, eating what you’d left behind. 

As the movie progresses and Billy finishes all the popcorn, you shift further and further into him. It makes Billy so happy to see you act so comfortable around him. This is everything he was hoping for. He sets your empty bowls on his side table and wipes his hands clean with the wet rag he’d brought with him.

You’re engrossed in the movie, laughing every now and then at something you shouldn’t find funny, or clutching at Billy’s fingers when you get stressed out during a tense moment.

God, he’s so happy to be with you. If he could make this night last forever, he would. Billy kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. You don’t think much of the gesture, only feeling a shiver run down your spine at the contact. At his warm hand on your skin.

Your skin.

Your nightgown has ridden up a bit, and suddenly you register exactly where Billy’s hand is. You take a deep breath, hoping he won’t rub your thigh and feel what you’ve avoided showing him for so long. 

You try not to worry, try to keep your focus on the movie, but you can’t. Your bubble has popped. You want to adjust your nightgown, but you’re afraid to draw more attention to the area, afraid to offend him and make him think you don’t want his touch. 

Billy’s thumb starts to stroke back and forth on your skin. You can feel the exact moment he registers that it doesn’t feel the way it should. The way your arms do, the way the soft backs of your hands do when he takes them in his. 

You feel him sit up slightly, crane his head to look at you. At your thigh.

Upon touching your leg, Billy had expected smooth skin. But he met ridges. Bumps. Lines of raised skin. He knew that wasn’t normal, and it sent a surge of curiosity or maybe even concern through him. 

What he sees confuses him. What happened to your leg? 

“Baby? What’s that?”

He’s sitting up fully now, prompting you to do the same before you fall against the bed. 

The longer he looks at it, the more confused he gets. There are scars on your leg. They’re not big, but there are a lot of them. So many that it’s scaring him. Some thin, some thicker. Different shades of scar tissue and scratched skin that never returned to its original state. 

They aren’t fresh, no, not at all. They are all healed. But he’s so confused because he’s gotten lots of cuts and bruises throughout his life, and they’ve never looked like yours do. They don’t look like a normal injury does. These look…deliberate. And he doesn’t understand.

You turn around and sit on your knees. I guess it’s now or never, you think. If you don’t tell yourself that, you’ll probably throw up. And if you hadn’t moved so far past this, you’d feel even worse. 

“They’re scars,” you say, rubbing your elbow. 

Billy flicks your knee, mainly because he doesn’t know how to react, his other hand rubbing down his face. “No shit.”

Your heart is pounding despite the fact that this is something you have long overcome and are not ashamed of. Even still, there is a part of you that hopes he won’t be disgusted with you. It’s the same part that hasn’t let the relationship go as far as you’d like it to. 

“I put them there.”

Billy blinks. Even if some part of him knew that’s where this was headed, he still can’t wrap his head around that. “What?” 

His eyes dart to your leg again, wondering if the scars are more extensive than what he can see. He’s scared of how badly you’ve hurt yourself. If he’s not careful, his eyes will glaze over. 

“A few years ago. You know how I’ve mentioned my depression and anxiety? And how I have medicine? How it was hard for me to go on dates with you at first or how sometimes I get standoffish?” 

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well, you’ve been really good at reassuring me and understanding my panic attacks and stuff, and I’ve gotten a lot better at managing these things. But before all of that, before how I am now, I had no one. I was all alone, and I couldn’t deal with my feelings. So I took it out on myself. I started cutting myself as a way to cope.” You hate to admit all of this, but he deserves to know.

You start fidgeting with your fingertips and break eye contact with him. Billy’s lips have formed a stern pout, his brows knitting together in a way that shows he’s trying to understand you. To him, he really is just trying to comprehend this. But to you, that’s the look of shame you’ve been awaiting. You don’t want to be looked at that way.

You sit on your hands and stare at a string that’s come loose from your worn-in comforter. 

“Anyway, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I couldn’t talk about how sad and lonely and angry I was, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a doctor. I kept it all in, figuring it was safer that way. But that got to me, and I chose to take it out on myself. There.” You touch your thigh. “Here and here.” Your fingers brush your stomach and hip. “Here too.” Your forearm. I know it’s horrible, but that’s what I chose to do. And I wouldn’t ever want someone else to choose that.” 

“I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the hurt to stop. I needed an outlet for all of those suffocating feelings, and that was what I did. Hurting myself helped me feel better because at least I was expressing something. And I was able to punish myself for being so unlike everyone else. So quiet, so hard to love, so different.”

Your heart is pounding but you steal a quick glance at Billy. He can’t fight the emotion from showing on his face anymore. He feels his eyelashes getting thick with tears that are threatening to spill at any moment. 

“I know this is probably hard to understand. I know you might be disgusted with me. But I guess it’s better that you know, right? I should’ve been more open about it with you sooner to avoid it being so…complicated.”

You stop, not really knowing what else there is to say. You’re hoping that this will encourage him to say something. Anything. You’d be happy to answer a question at this point.

Billy brings the hem of his shirt up to wipe his eyes. You wince, feeling awful for making him emotional over this. 

He takes a moment to try and wrap his head around what he’s just heard. He’s had a habit of self-medicating with alcohol, with cigarettes, hell, even ego lifting shit he shouldn’t at the gym. But everyone copes differently, right? You wouldn’t do what he does. He wouldn’t do what his dad does.

He just can’t bear the thought of thinking that someone would physically do that to themselves. That you, his perfect girl, would be feeling so low that you’d make yourself bleed just in search of relief from the pain. He can’t understand it, but at the same time, he sees that it comes in different forms. 

Billy reaches out for your hands, waiting for you to take them. The pressure behind your eyes immediately softens at the gesture.

“Don’t apologize to me, okay? I’m just trying to process.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your warm skin.

“Okay.”

He kisses each of your knuckles in turn, maintaining eye contact all the while. He straightens, not letting go of your fingers. “I don’t like to think about you being in any sort of pain. Imagining you doing that to yourself…fuckin’ breaks my heart.” 

You tilt your head, scanning his face. He’s hurting for you, and you want to take it away. “It’s okay, Billy. I’m so much better now.”

“But I wish that I’d known you when you were hurting so damn bad. Y-you were alone, and I’m angry that no one was there to pull you out. I would’ve helped you.”

You squeeze his hands. “Billy, baby. I wouldn’t have let you help me.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

“Because I didn’t want to get better. I was comfortable in an endless cycle of hurt, and I had to be the one to finally change something.”

Billy leans forward until his forehead is resting against your chest. “I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, and I know you sure as hell don’t want my pity, but I just can’t have you ever be in pain.”

You weave your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “I know, Billy. I’m okay, I promise? I’ve worked really hard to be okay.”

He straightens, cupping your face. “God, I know you have. I’m never gonna let you hurt like that again, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Billy. That’s not a place I ever want to return to.”

He leans in and kisses you with so much passion, using his lips to say more than he could ever form into words, that it leaves you feeling dazed. Loved.

“I’m so proud of you,” Billy says. 

You smile at him, and if he weren’t already sitting, he’d need to because of how weak you make him. 

“Thank you for respecting me and not treating me differently. You have no idea how much that means.”

Billy’s hands slide down to rest on your collar bones. “Why on earth would I treat you differently? Have people before? If anything it shows me how much of a fucking star you are, because you got through that all on your own. You got through it and now I have the pleasure of being yours.” 

You feel like someone’s poured warm water down your back. “People are usually awful about it, yeah. But that doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that you’re so accepting. And I want to be more open with you.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, baby. I’m working on my patience, so I’m happy to wait and learn every inch of you. Inside and out.” He winks at you, hoping to coax out a smile. It works.

“I’m so glad I got to this point,” you admit to him. You never say that out loud. 

“Fuck, so am I.” He kisses your forehead. “My best girl.”

[captainbobbin]

forgot to post this little Croco sketch I did the other day

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

Re-learning to love yourself

Okay I got this idea from a spoiler I saw on TOWL of Rick and michonne touching each others scars or something like that. And I was thinking wouldn’t it just be ADORABLE if reader and Daryl share that same experience. I haven’t seen TOWL so excuse me while I just vaguely base this off it… without actually watching it. Haha. Also thank you thank you THANK YOU for nearly 400 followers I absolutely adore every single one of you beautiful people.

Trigger warnings: scars, self harm scars, vulnerability, sensitive moments, self hatred. If sensitive to any of this loves please do not read. F reader- will do M reader if requested.

-

“What happened…?”

Daryl’s voice was soft as he gazed down at you, torso exposed but bra still on as you showed him the scar that trailed from your collar bone and all the way down to your breast. “The governor.” You spoke softly and Daryl seemed to grimace at that name “Maggie got it worse but… yeah.” You mumbled softly, and to your surprise you watched as he removed his shirt. Sure you both weren’t a “couple” you were more friends with benefits who enjoyed each others company in bed sometimes, but only for make out sessions and such. Nothing big… just soft tender love.

He then slowly turned around, he seemed to shake slightly from head to toe clearly nervous about showing you something so vulnerable. You slowly stood from the bed and walked towards him reaching your hand out as your fingers gently traced against the tip of the scar, his body flinching slightly at the sudden contact against something that hadn’t been touched before. “Sorry.” You quickly retracted your hand expecting him to pull away but instead he spoke softly, “no… it’s okay. Do it again.”

And so you did- placing your fingertips against the scar on the top left of his shoulder blade tracing the curve of it, before your fingertips slowly spidered over to the right hand side of his back to where one of the ‘X’ laid, and you slowly traced your finger against the lines his body tensing every now and then but he didn’t tell you to stop “what happened… I know… those psycho kids did this to you.. but— why?”

Daryl remained silent for a few moments only shrugging “the crazy woman said the ‘X’ was a sign of strength… but I think it’s ugly. She was just branding us like fucking cattle.” He grunted out, your fingertips moved down to his lower back where you stroked against the ‘X’ branded against his skin “not ugly.” You reassured gently before tracing your hand more against his scars. “She had brainwashed her children practically… turned them feral.. they were obsessed with punishing us.” He spoke quietly almost sounding embarrassed.

Eventually though he turned around looking into your eyes, your eyes scanning along his chest for a moment or two but your thoughts were quickly pulled away as you looked into his eyes “what happened to your wrists?” You felt your breath hitch momentarily and you glanced down at the healed over scars but they still looked ghastly to you. “I hurt myself.” You spoke honestly and he frowned slightly, he understood why, he hurt himself too sometimes, but why you? A beautiful young woman. “Why?” He questioned after a few moments before you looked down sighing heavily, and he gently reached his fingers out touching against your cheek making you look at him again “talk to me.”

You gazed into his eyes before smiling sadly “I hated myself.” You explained softly Daryl soon crouching in front of you as you sat back down on the bed “I disliked everything about myself. I had lost my family.. I didn’t think I had any reason to keep living…” Daryl listened nodding his head, and as a silence fell upon the both of you he moved his hand down to your wrist “can I touch?” He asked and you nodded simply watching as his calloused fingers gently rubbed against your healed over scars “they’re disgusting. I’m sorry..” daryl frowned and looked back at you “no. I think they’re… beautiful….”

You smiled softly and shook your head “not beautiful.” You murmured sadly, Daryl’s fingertips continuing to brush against the lines that dug up and down your wrists before he did something that surprised you, he brought your wrist up as he leaned down pressing a singular kiss to the largest cut on your skin, it was such a soft moment it could’ve made you cry if you weren’t careful. “Butterfly’s can’t see their wings…” he trailed off pressing another little kiss to your scar “but they’re beautiful without knowing it.” You were so taken aback by his beautiful words that you barely recognised the tears forming in your eyes. No one had treated your scars so beautifully before…

Soon his hand came to caress against your cheek rubbing his thumb against your skin “you’re beautiful…” his words were honest yet hesitant still, clearly not sure whether you wanted to hear that again, before he slowly leaned in pressing a kiss to your lips a slow passionate kiss that held a lot of love and affection within it. Eventually he slowly pulled back holding your face in his hands as you gazed down at him “oh Daryl.” Your hand came up to caress against his cheek “I think I’m in love with you.” You murmured softly and he smiled at you, nodding his head “I think…— no… I know I’m in love with you too.” He spoke before leaning in and kissing you again over and over, the both of you sharing such a special moment together… only for your eyes only… only for his eyes only. Forever and always shared between the both of you.

[valeriearmani1]

rosekiller⁉️⁉️⁉️

[angeart]

My brain keeps going back to the hhau rambles and Grian asking Scar about taking his wings off and just...how incredibly short-sighted that "fix" would be. Because like, even if he lost one/both his wings and lived through it....he'd still have his instincts. He'd still chirp...he'd still wanna be high up in nests but he'd have to climb now. He'd never be able to wrap himself in wings again... depending on when that earring of Scar's might be the last of his feathers... and oh gosh post rescue? The hermits seeing him without wings and all the questions and looks of pity. Some well meaning hermit maybe brings him an elytra which he's never needed before and oh that could cause a spiral

-🎀

oh gosh. oh okay. i see you're bringing angst to my doorstep.

grian definitely wasn't thinking clearly in that moment. he simply reached a point where he can't see any other solution. so much of his anguish is tied to his wings. he's in pain and scared and he desperately wants it to stop.

he's learned to despise his wings. they cause him so much turmoil and everything that was ever good about them—everything he loved—has been meticulously erased. they're not pretty. they are dirty and grimy and itchy. heavy, unwieldy, muscles locked up, clumsy and aching from disuse. they no longer feel like a proper part of him. he's not using them, he's just constantly fighting to tuck them away. to make the world believe they're not there.

well then... wouldn't it be easier? if that was the reality?

to him, it sounds like a long-term solution to an otherwise never-ending problem.

his wings are a beacon, and wouldn't him and scar be so much safer without them? if he didn't have them, there'd be no reason for people to madly hunt him. maybe then they could stop running and catch their breath. maybe then scar wouldn't be in constant danger just from being near him. maybe then the fear lodged into grian's spine and the endless string of triggered panic attacks would finally go away.

yes, he'd still have his instincts. but he's already grounded. he's already not using his wings for any sort of comfort at this point, and flight is not an option. he's craving nests and high places, but that doesn't mean he can get them, wings or no wings, and— he was fine without that on hermitcraft! surely if the pain and fear stop, his instincts will calm down? surely, he can get at least a semblance of control back?

and you need to realise. there was no thought spared to the hermits. at this point, scar and grian have given up and no longer expect or even hope to ever be rescued. in their minds, there's no one coming to save them. there's no home to go back to. it's just this.

it will always be this.

and this is painful, and grian is clawing at ideas of making it better somehow—anyhow—no matter how drastic or gruesome that option might seem.

that all being said... man. that big what if. what if he really lost them? what if, one way or another, he managed to get rid of his wings? what if that happened and he survived?

your point about how scar's earring would be the last of grian's feathers is so heartrending. that'd be so tragic and sad.

and then post-rescue, the hermits would have even more proof of the damage. even more questions, too. even more helplessness as how to help, when the damage done is long since unfixable </3

grian, having to wrangle with having a safe environment to fly again, but having no wings to fly with... especially if that was his own choice. if it was preventable. ouch.

[wikitpowers]

everybody tough as hell until i mention the clockwork princess epilogue…