#rolling acne scars

[doctorqazi]

Acne scars are one of the most difficult skin conditions to treat. Which is why for each patient I build a unique and customized treatment plan. Here are some of the treatments that I combine during my custom acne scar solutions. 🔥

🔸 TCA Cross: By precisely applying Trichloroacetic Acid (TCA) to targeted areas, we stimulate collagen production, encouraging the scar tissue to gradually fade away.

🔸 Deep Subcision: Using a Taylor Liberator, we release the deep fibrous bands beneath the skin's surface that are causing those pesky depressed scars, allowing them to rise to the occasion and blend seamlessly with the surrounding healthy tissue.

🔸 Punch excision: Through punch excision, we tackle stubborn acne scars head-on. This technique involves surgically removing individual deep scars and allowing the healthy skin to regenerate.

🔸 Erbium Laser: This gentle yet effective laser works wonders by precisely resurfacing the top layers of your skin, promoting the growth of fresh, healthy skin cells while minimizing imperfections and scars.

🔸 CO2 Laser: Our state-of-the-art CO2 laser goes deeper, addressing deeper acne scars and enhancing overall skin texture. It encourages collagen remodeling and helps reveal a revitalized complexion.

🔸 Pico Laser: The pinnacle of laser technology, Pico laser pulses at an ultra-fast speed, targeting pigment irregularities caused by acne scars. It breaks down stubborn pigmentation, leaving your skin radiant and even-toned.

🔸 Bellafil: This advanced dermal filler works wonders by filling in depressions caused by acne, giving your skin a plump and youthful appearance. It stimulates collagen production, ensuring long-lasting results.

🔸 Radiesse: This innovative dermal filler stimulates natural collagen production and provides immediate volume, reducing the appearance of acne scars and giving you smoother, more refined skin.

Typically, multiple sessions of different treatment modalities are necessary.

If you are interested in booking a consultation for acne scars, please call/text 949-336-7293.

🏠20271 SW Birch St Suite 100 Newport Beach, CA 92660

[tri-punisher]

ive started colouring sid's teeth as yellow inspired by my own teeth (which is also the reason he has an overbite+tooth gap) i think it makes his design way better and also immediately made me feel better about my teeth. so. i would recommend giving your characters big misaligned or yellow teeth. in fact any part of yourself that you feel bad or insecure about make a concerted effort give to your favourite characters or your ocs when you draw them cus i can assure you you will start feeling better about those aspects of yourself as you see them reflected more as well as start becoming more and more appreciative and admiring of seeing them on other people too 👍

[millennialskin]

Acne Scars: Just When You Thought The Fight was Over!

Acne scars can linger long after breakouts have cleared, serving as frustrating reminders of past skin troubles. Different types of acne scars require specific approaches for treatment, and while severe cases may need professional intervention, there are over-the-counter (OTC) products that can make a significant difference. Here’s a guide to understanding which OTC treatments are most effective…

[mintmatcha]

tiktok reader universe

contains mentions of sexual assault. cisfem reader.

.

There's still times when Bakugo can tell your mind wanders during sex. The focus drains from your eyes, your grip goes limp, and your smile slips just a bit. You always come back to him if he says something, but... sometimes he lets it happen, lets you drift away. Maybe the distance is needed.

Even after all this time, you still never sleep over after sex. Tonight, you're a bit more impatient than usual, fixing your hair and wiping your brow right after he pulls away.

"I was offered a job today," you say casually.

"Yeah?" Bakugo loops an arm around the empty pillow that could be yours, if only you'd lean back into it. "With who?"

Instead, he's left to study the curve of your spine as you throw your legs over the side of the bed. He loves the story your body tells, with its scars and marks. Even the acne pocks are a reminder you were once just a teenager, just like he was. His own scars have puckered with age, still the same raging pink they were when they first healed.

"Someone with way too much money-" you say. -"who likes what I've done for your image and thinks I can fix theirs."

"And can you?"

You shoot him a grin from over your shoulder. "Is that even a question?"

Truthfully, Bakugo thinks you could do anything if you wanted to. You could lean over and rip his heart from his chest with just your fucking teeth-- and you'd make it look easy. He'd maybe even thank you. He'd definitely let it happen again.

Bakugo gives up on luring you back. "Well, when do you start?"

Your head tilts.

"I don't," you say."I didn't take the job."

Bakugo sits up straighter.

"I didn't want to leave you."

The statement sits warm in his chest, then quickly cools.

"Well, maybe you should have."

That makes you turn. You cock your head the other way, expression neutral, but still gracing him with a closed lip grin. The stare lasts for a long while before you crawl back under the covers and return to his side. Your lips find the side of his neck and your hands grip back to him, hot, heavy, breathless in that way you think he likes. A hum builds in your throat, a rolling, performative sound.

"Pull your cock out," you demand, right into the shell of his ear. "If this is the last time, I want another round."

"What?"

He doesn't have time to react before you're gripping his half hard cock, jerking it up gently. It's still wet with you and buzzing with sensitivity, so much so that he can't help but enjoy it, enjoy you-

"If you're about to break up with me, I want to at least cum one more time."

He loses the remnants of his erection.

"That's not what I fucking meant." Bakugo tries to meet your eye, but you just keep kissing at him, gripping at him. "Just-- stop stroking my cock for a second and be fucking serious."

You freeze, but keep your hand on him.

"I don't wanna work together," Bakugo reaches for your hand. The free one. "I just want to date."

You don't respond.

"I want to take you places and have you meet my parents and-"

God. this is so unlike him. When did he lose his teeth? Did you pull them straight from his skull and hang them from your neck like jewels?

"I want you to sleep over." He means it. "Like a real fucking couple."

The ceiling fan hums with an uneven hitch, catching in the same spot each time. It's an easy fix, but he's been ignoring it for so long that it's almost blended into the tapestry of his home. Click-click-click-click-click: now it's deafening, overwhelming the silence you're choosing to sit in. Just as he's about to open his mouth, you look away from his body and meet his eye. There's no sharp edge to your eyes.

"'tsuki."

You say it like a mother about to comfort a child, with a rounded curve to your tone that he's never heard before. You're trying to dull the blow, but it does nothing. It's a fucking knife to the gut.

"I'm serious. I'm really serious." He points with his whole arm towards the bathroom. "I've had a fucking toothbrush ready for you for weeks now. It's right there, in the fucking package."

You withdraw, smile long gone. The air between you two, trapped under the covers, goes cold.

"The girlfriend thing." You are unrecognizable without your Mona Lisa grin and he's obsessed with it. He wants to consume these rare moments, chew on them until he's full of you and only you, despite how it makes his stomach turn. "It was never real. You know that."

You cover your bare tits with one arm, but leave your pussy exposed. It feels like a reflex more than an actual concern.

"I'm not meant to be a girlfriend. You don't want me as a girlfriend."

Bakugo's quick to close the distance between you, but he pauses when you full body flinch. Your quirk activates for a moment - you glitter out of existence and then immediately back in- like it's unwittingly done. It's another incredibly un-you moment, but one that he doesn't want to drink in.

"I do." He keeps his voice as delicate as he can. "I do. I fucking do."

"I don't know how to do the things you need. I don't know how to be a girlfriend," you say. The corners of your smile return and he can see the wall coming back up. The arch of your back, the way your hand suddenly cups your tit: you turn yourself into someone else, someone's who's happy to be here, in an instant. "I can make myself girlfriend shaped. I can open my mouth and let you fuck it. I can pose for a picture. I can make your friends jealous."

Oh, and that distant look comes back to your face. The dilation of your eye is just... wrong, even as you smile.

"But I'm just something that's girlfriend shaped," you say. "I'm an illusion, a creature, a tool, a hole-"

"Don't ever say that shit again."

It rips out of him too roughly. "A hole? That's-- why would you say that?"

It all seems to hit you slowly, as if you're processing your own words. Like it never occured to you that you were saying something foul.

"Because-" you try to explain yourself.

"You're just a girl," Bakugo doesn't let you finish the thought. He can't. Not when you're above him like that, so guarded and yet so vulnerable, neither predator nor prey. "I hate to break your fucking illusion or whatever, but you aren't this fucking lumbering beast or huntress or, or, or, I dunno, whatever the commission has tricked you into believing."

He tries to meet your eye, but you're ducking away from it.

"You're just a girl." He lets his hands fall back to his lap. The pinky that doesn't work twitches, kicking with it's old muscle memory. The scar tissue itches under it's own tautness. "Underneath it all. You're just a girl."

The mattress creaks under your weight as you shift back. Now, your eyes are incredibly focused, almost pinpricks. You watch him with an unreadable expression, one slowly inching more towards horror with every moment.

"You think I can't see you, but I can." Bakugo stays where he is. "And I think you want to be seen."

Everything moves slowly. You blink a couple times, with this meek nod, swallowing thickly as you listen. Then, you get off of the bed and head towards the door. All of your clothes are still scattered on the bedroom floor, your panties at the foot of the bed.

"Wait." Bakugo scrambles to get to his feet. "Don't- fucking wait."

He says your name, once, twice, three times, and gets no response. Panic and regret swirl in his skull, so violent he almost goes lightheaded. By the time he reaches the hall, you're gone, and he thinks you've activated your quirk to escape him. It's the nightmare he's always had around you, the one where you disappear into the night the second he gets too close.

And then the bathroom light flicks on. With a careful trepidation, Bakugo inches down towards the door, afraid the break the illusion. Maybe, if he moves too fast, you'll really scatter off into the night, a deer under his headlights.

But when he slides into the frame, you're just standing there, holding a familiar little tube.

"This it?" You hold the package in your hand. "My toothbrush?"

"Yeah."

With your thumbs, you crack into the packaging and carefully peel the toothbrush out. You run the head under the faucet, then turn it off.

"Toothpaste?"

Bakugo pulls out the top drawer. With a sullen nod, you take the toothpaste and unscrew the top. Bakugo watches you, both of you completely naked, both of you completely silent. It surprises him how unsexual it feels to be here, postcoital, still sweaty, watching you brush your teeth. After the moment settles, he steps over and grabs his own brush.

You're just a girl, he thinks as he brushes his teeth next to you. He likes that you're just a girl next to him.

The both of you finish up, then you silently pad back to the room. Bakugo follows, a healthy distance, but close enough the he watches you shrug on his sweatshirt before dipping under the covers. Your head rests on your pillow.

Bakugo finds his space on the other side of the bed and you lay there, in the dim overhead lighting.

"It's hard for me," you say.

"Sleeping?"

"Yeah."

Bakugo turns on to his side and almost reaches out. Almost. Instead, he goes back and turns off the light. When he returns, you're nothing but a dark lump beside him.

"That's okay," he says, "You can sleep however the hell you want."

Your silhouette stays still.

"Sometimes I wake up crying," you say. "Or kicking, or just remembering something I shouldn't."

"Remembering what?"

The click of the fan overtakes everything again as you lay there, pulling in even breaths. A moment passes, then another and another. You're silent for too long, long enough that he thinks you've fallen asleep. Just as he's about to give up, you sigh out a winding breath.

"He was a hero," you whisper. "I felt special when he paid attention to me."

A chill he can't place creeps up his spine. He wants to ask what that means, why you're telling him this, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth. He has to swallow, then cleae his throat.

"Did-?" His voice crackles. "Did someone hurt you?"

Again, you're silent.

"Who?" This time, when you don't respond, he presses. "Fucking who?"

"Someone who retired a long, long time ago."

"Give me a name and I'll fucking-"

"Katsuki."

"Someone raped you."

He had to say it out loud and dispel the mystery behind it. It's selfish, brash, but he needed it- just as he needs this hand around you, holding, cradling-

"That's what happens when you're just a girl." You clutch at his forearm with a want that isn't present in your voice. "People hurt you."

The bite of your nails surprises him.

"It's safer to be something else."

It's his turn to be quiet.

[schrodingers-romy]

Anyway I saw this thing about how choso doesn't have dark circles on his eyes it's just purple eye makeup and I think me and choso would make the perfect pair. Everyone thinks he has dark circles but it's just makeup, while everyone thinks I have eyeshadow but it's just the permanent dark circles

[wiisagi-maiingan]

I think people need to get off social media and look at real actual human beings around them to remember what actual people look like. No tiktok filters. No airbrushing or other editing.

Just real, normal human beings with receding hairlines and acne and scars and fat rolls and wrinkles and missing teeth and all the other things that people aren't allowed to have on social media.

I see so many posts about how disappointed people are that their fave internet celebrity's boyfriend is "just a guy" and I'm sorry but must men are "just guys" instead of supermodels or actors on magazine covers. Most people do, in fact, look like regular human beings. Yes, even celebrities and models and influencers.

[kultofkorii]

─ Old Habits, Die Hard

✎ Strawhats x gn! reader

Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp [Separately]

• fic type: drabbles

• summary: Strawhat men with an s/o, who picks at their acne/scars; and they do whatever they can to help them try to break the habit.

• word count: 3.9k [Collectively]

• warnings: skin picking, acne picking

• a/n: These are based on my own experience with skin picking, which won't be like everyone else's. So I ask that you be considerate when reading, please! I kinda got carried away with Sanji and Usopp 🧍‍♀️

Luffy:

The sun beams down on the Thousand Sunny, its golden rays glinting off the calm ocean waves. You lean against the railing, your fingers drumming absentmindedly against the wood. Your gaze wanders toward the horizon, thoughts meandering as the ship cuts through the water.

You shift slightly, fingers brushing your shoulder. There it is again—the familiar itch of idle hands meeting your ever-stubborn acne. Before you can pick at it, a familiar voice snaps you out of your trance. “Y/n! Look at this!” Luffy’s voice rings out, cutting through the salty air. Turning, you see your captain sprinting toward you, holding something in his outstretched hands. Usopp trails behind him, yelling something about "not losing it this time."

Luffy skids to a stop in front of you, shoving a palm-sized beetle practically into your face. “Isn’t it cool? Usopp and I found it on the mast!” You lean back instinctively, raising an eyebrow. “Cool? It looks like it’s planning world domination.” Luffy cackles at your remark, his grin widening. “You’re funny, Y/n! But look at its horns! They’re huge!” You snort, glancing at the beetle. “Yeah, massive. Bet it benches twice my weight.” You flash a mock-serious expression before bursting into laughter, your tone dripping with pompous flair.

“Oi! Don’t insult Beetle-sama!” Usopp protests, pointing a dramatic finger at you. “He’s the strongest beetle in all the seas!” Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, you cross your arms. “Alright, alright, I concede. Beetle-sama is a paragon of strength and charm.” Luffy laughs again, his joy as infectious as ever. “See? Told ya it’s awesome!” He’s gone as quickly as he came, bounding off to show the beetle to Robin next. You shake your head, amused, as your fingers drift back to your shoulder.

“Stop that,” Chopper’s gentle voice interrupts, his small hoof swatting your hand away. “Caught red-handed, huh?” you reply with a sheepish grin. Chopper frowns, his little doctor’s coat billowing slightly in the breeze. “Y/n, you’ve gotta stop picking at it. It could leave scars or get infected. You should take better care of your skin!”

You sigh, nodding. “I know, Doc. It’s just...a bad habit, y’know? Boredom, stress—it happens.”Chopper nods sagely, but before he can respond, Luffy reappears, his curiosity piqued. “What are you two talking about?” Chopper hesitates, glancing between you and Luffy, but you wave him off. “It’s no big deal, just some skin stuff.”

“Skin stuff?” Luffy tilts his head, clearly not understanding. Chopper sighs, taking pity on him. “Y/n picks at their acne sometimes, especially when they’re bored or stressed. I’ve been trying to help them stop.”Luffy blinks at this, his rubbery brain gears turning. Then, with the sudden decisiveness only he can muster, he declares, “Alright! I’ll help too!” You blink, caught off guard. “Help? How?”

“By making sure you’re never bored!” Luffy grins, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced a grand plan. You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s a tall order, Captain.”

“Not for me!” Luffy insists, stretching his arm out and wrapping it around your waist. “C’mon, we’re gonna explore the ship!” And so it begins. Every time you find yourself sitting alone, fingers starting to twitch, Luffy appears like magic. Whether he’s dragging you off to explore a new island, shoving some bizarre food Sanji’s made into your hands, or excitedly ranting about his next dream, he always manages to keep your hands busy—and your mind off your habit.

One evening, after a particularly chaotic adventure involving angry sea kings and narrowly avoiding an ambush, the crew is sprawled across the deck, basking in the quiet. You sit alone near the bow, the familiar itch creeping up again. Your fingers twitch, drifting toward your shoulder, when—

“Y/n!

You startle as Luffy plops down in front of you, cross-legged and beaming. “Wanna hear about the biggest fish I’ve ever seen?” he asks, leaning in close. “Let me guess—it was this big?” You stretch your arms wide, grinning. “No, bigger!” Luffy laughs, mimicking your gesture but stretching his arms far past the point of realism. “It was huuuge!” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Sure it was, Captain.”

As he talks—animatedly describing a fish so large it could swallow the Sunny whole—you realize something. His hands have found yours, his fingers weaving through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The urge to pick at your skin fades, replaced by a warm, calm feeling. You smile softly, letting yourself be swept up in his energy. “You’re really something, Luffy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” he asks, cocking his head. “Just...thanks,” you say simply, your voice lighter than usual. Luffy grins, his face lighting up with joy. “Of course! You’re my crew, Y/n. And you’re my partner! I’ve gotta take care of you!" The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, but you quickly mask it with your usual humor. “Aw, shucks. Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain.” He laughs, throwing his head back, and you join in, the sound of your laughter mingling with the ocean breeze.

Zoro:

The salty breeze of the ocean tickled your nose as you leaned on the Sunny’s railing, the waves sparkling under the sun. You were currently watching Luffy attempt to catch fish with his bare hands—unsuccessfully—and your amused chuckles were drowned out by his cries of determination.

“Don’t laugh!” he hollered. “I’m gonna catch the biggest fish in here!” You snorted, smirking. “Sure you are, Captain. At this rate, the fish are probably betting on who’ll pull you in first.” Luffy splashed water in your direction, though he was far too far away for it to land anywhere near you. You grinned, leaning back and crossing your arms. Being on the Thousand Sunny was never boring, and neither were the people on it. That was especially true when it came to Roronoa Zoro.

You felt his presence before you even saw him, his heavy footsteps and steady gait unmistakable. You turned just in time to see the swordsman approaching with his usual lazy scowl, swords at his side. He stopped a few feet from you, hands tucked into his haramaki. “Oi, you done slacking?” he asked. You grinned, tilting your head dramatically. “Slacking? My dear mosshead, I’m hard at work being me. It’s a full-time job, you know.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “Tch. You’re coming with me. Training.” You groaned, throwing your head back theatrically. “Again? Zoro, I’m not trying to become a human pretzel! Besides, what’s the point of training if I can already outwit you with my superior intellect?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who trips over their own feet,” Zoro retorted, grabbing your wrist. “I was testing gravity,” you deadpanned as he dragged you across the deck. “It still works, by the way.” You could hear Nami chuckling in the background, but Zoro ignored everyone, his grip firm yet not painful. You’d long since stopped resisting his training sessions, mostly because he was stubborn enough to carry you over his shoulder if you didn’t cooperate. Plus, you knew why he was doing it.

As the two of you reached the training area, Zoro handed you a practice sword. You stared at it with mock horror. “Oh no, not again. My arms still feel like noodles from the last time.” Zoro raised an eyebrow. “Good. Then you’re warming up faster.” You groaned but complied, holding the sword in a half-decent stance. Zoro began to correct your posture, his hands brushing yours briefly. You tried not to think too hard about it, focusing instead on his instructions.

“Stop slouching. Keep your wrist steady,” he said, circling you like a predator assessing its prey. “Sir, yes Sir,” you quipped. “Just focus, idiot,” he muttered, but you could hear the faintest trace of amusement in his tone. The training session lasted longer than you’d anticipated, and by the end, your muscles ached, and your bad habit had all but slipped your mind. Zoro had a way of keeping you so focused that there was no room for idle thoughts—or idle hands.

Later, as you sat on the deck with Chopper tending to a scrape on your hand, the little doctor gave you his usual stern look. “You need to stop picking at your skin, Y/n!” he scolded. “It’s bad for you, and you’ll get scars!” You gave him a sheepish grin. “Aw, c’mon, Doc, it’s not that bad.”

“It is bad,” Chopper insisted. “And Zoro’s been telling me you’re getting better about it. Don’t ruin the progress!” Your head snapped up, and you blinked. “Wait—Zoro’s been talking to you about it?” Chopper nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He said you’re too stubborn to admit it, but the training helps keep you from doing it. I think he’s really proud of you.”Your face grew warm, and you glanced over to where Zoro was lounging in his usual spot, swords by his side. He was fast asleep—or so it seemed—but his presence felt... steady, grounding.

That night, as you sat beside him in the crow’s nest after he’d dragged you there “to keep him company,” you finally worked up the courage to ask. “Hey, Zoro,” you began, your voice softer than usual. “Hm?” He cracked an eye open, glancing at you. “Why do you... you know, keep bugging me to train with you?” He stared at you for a moment before closing his eye again. “You’re less annoying when you’re focused.” You snorted, leaning back against the wall. “Wow, I’m touched. Truly.”

A brief silence fell between you, but Zoro’s voice cut through it, lower and more serious. “...You’re not alone on this ship. So stop acting like you have to deal with everything by yourself,” he said. Your chest tightened at his words, and for once, you didn’t have a snarky comeback. Instead, you smiled, your voice light. “Thanks, mosshead.”

He smirked, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “Anytime, idiot.” And just like that, you realized how much Zoro cared in his own, gruff way. You didn’t need flowery words or grand gestures. His actions spoke volumes, and you silently vowed to keep working on your habit—not just for him, but for yourself.

Sanji:

The scent of sea salt mixed with the delicious aroma of baking bread wafted through the galley. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, as Sanji expertly kneaded dough with the kind of finesse that only he could muster. His blond hair fell into his eyes, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “Careful, chef,” you said with a smirk. “You’re going to knead that dough into another dimension if you keep putting your back into it like that.”

Sanji shot you a look, one eyebrow arched in mock offense. “Oh? And what would you know about dough, my dear?” “Oh, I know plenty,” you replied, puffing up your chest dramatically. “I’ve got years of experience eating bread. That practically makes me an expert, don’t you think?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he transferred the dough into a bowl to rest. “You’re impossible, you know that?” “Thank you, I try,” you said with an exaggerated bow, laughing at your own antics.

As much as you loved joking around, you could tell Sanji was keeping an eye on you—specifically on your hands, which had started to wander toward your face. You were picking at a small spot on your cheek, absentmindedly scratching at the imperfection as you talked. His smile faded slightly, and he quickly stepped closer, gently catching your wrist before you could do more damage.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge. “Don’t do that, Y/n.” You blinked, glancing down at his hand holding yours. “What? Oh, this?” You waved your free hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Just a little battle with my face, nothing serious.” “It’s not fine,” he insisted, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You’re hurting yourself. I hate seeing you do that.” The earnest concern in his voice took you off guard, and for a moment, you felt a pang of guilt. “I’m not trying to hurt myself,” you said, your tone softer now. “It’s just... I don’t know. It’s a habit.” Sanji sighed, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand before letting it go. “I know, love. But it still worries me.”

There was a pause before you brightened up again, forcing a grin to lighten the mood. “Wow, look at you, Mr. Worrywart. What’s next? Are you going to start measuring my water intake?” He gave you a flat look. “If I have to.” You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. “Oh, Sanji, you’re killing me! You’d make an excellent mother.” “And you make an excellent troublemaker,” he shot back, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “But seriously, Y/n, I want to help.” Later that day, you found out what he meant by “help.”

Sanji had roped Chopper into his mission. You walked into the infirmary to find the little reindeer scribbling on a clipboard while Sanji paced back and forth like a man on a mission. “I feel like I’m walking into a conspiracy,” you announced, startling them both. “What’s going on here? Are you plotting my demise? If so, I’d prefer poison. Very dramatic, very Shakespeare.” Chopper turned to you, flustered. “N-No! We’re not plotting anything bad! Sanji just asked me for advice on how to help you with your… um… habit.”

You raised an eyebrow and turned to Sanji. “You went to Chopper for advice? What, are you worried I’ll pick myself into oblivion?” Sanji crossed his arms, clearly unamused by your humor. “I’m serious, love. If you can’t stop, I want to at least help you keep your hands busy. Chopper mentioned stress balls and fidget toys, but I figured you might like something more… hands-on.” “Hands-on?” you repeated, intrigued.

That’s how you found yourself in the kitchen later, standing next to Sanji as he handed you a cutting board and a knife. “If you’re going to be fidgety, you might as well put it to good use,” he said, grinning. “Wow, I’ve been reduced to junior chef status,” you said, pretending to look offended. “What’s next? Do I have to peel potatoes?” “Not today,” he replied, amused. “Today, you’re cutting vegetables. Think you can handle that?” “Oh, I’ll handle it all right,” you said, twirling the knife dramatically before starting to chop. “Watch and learn, chef.”

To your surprise, you found the task oddly soothing. The repetitive motion of chopping vegetables kept your hands busy, and having Sanji nearby made it all the more enjoyable. He’d occasionally lean over to check your work, offering tips or cracking a joke to keep the mood light. “You know,” you said after a while, “this isn’t half bad. I might actually be good at this.” “Of course you are,” Sanji said, giving you a proud smile. “You’ve got me as your teacher, after all.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “Don’t let it go to your head, love."

Over the next few weeks, Sanji made a habit of inviting you to join him in the kitchen whenever he had the chance. When he was too busy to cook with you, he’d leave behind recipes for you to try on your own—always tailored to your tastes. One evening, as you both worked side by side to bake a batch of cookies, you glanced at him and felt a wave of gratitude. “You know,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence, “you’re pretty amazing.”

Sanji looked at you in surprise. “What brought that on?” “Just… everything you do for me,” you admitted, your usual snark giving way to sincerity. “I know I joke around a lot, but I really appreciate it, Sanji. You’re kind of the best.” He blushed, his cigarette almost falling from his lips. “Y-Y/n, don’t say stuff like that so casually.” You laughed, nudging him playfully. “What, can’t handle a compliment? Poor Sanji, so unused to praise.”

He shook his head, smiling despite himself “You’re impossible.” “And you love it,” you said, grinning. “I do,” he admitted softly, his voice full of warmth. The moment hung in the air like the scent of freshly baked cookies, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to pick at your skin.

Usopp:

Usopp was on of the most interesting people you'd ever met. He had this magnetic way of weaving words, turning even the most mundane tasks into grand adventures. He was funny, brave (well, mostly), and, above all, kind. And somehow, despite the larger-than-life personalities around him, he made you feel like the most important person on the ship.

Which was why you were currently sitting on a barrel in the workshop, your hands idly fidgeting with a small mechanism Usopp had given you. He was pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly as he described the intricate designs for a new cannon he and Franky were working on. “And then,” he said, his voice rising with excitement, “the cannon will have this rotating mechanism that lets it fire in three directions at once! Can you believe that? Three! It’s genius, right?”

“Absolutely,” you replied with a grin, turning the small gear in your hand. “Though I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Usopp paused mid-step, his jaw dropping in mock offense. “Y/N! How could you? I’m sharing my brilliant ideas with you, and you’re not even trying to understand?”

“Hey,” you said, holding up the gear like it was a prize. “I’m doing my part. Look, I’m keeping my hands busy so I don’t accidentally pick at my face and send Chopper into another lecture.” At that, Usopp puffed out his chest, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Well, you are welcome, by the way. I did make those fidget toys for you, remember?”

You laughed, the sound ringing through the workshop. “Oh, don’t worry, Captain Usopp. I’ll sing your praises for the rest of my days. Truly, what would I do without you?” His cheeks flushed a deep red, but he quickly turned away, pretending to inspect a nearby toolbox. “Y-you don’t have to go that far,” he mumbled, though you caught the hint of pride in his voice.

You hopped off the barrel and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a sudden hug. “Thank you, though. Really. For noticing and for caring. It means a lot.” For a moment, he froze, his entire body going stiff. Then, as if on cue, his chest puffed out even more, and he placed his hands on his hips, striking a heroic pose. “Of course, Y/N! As your boyfriend, it’s my duty to look out for you!” You stepped back, biting back a laugh. “Wow, look at you. The very picture of chivalry.” “Darn right,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

Your days soon seemed to develop a rhythm, and you found yourself spending more and more time in Usopp’s workshop. Whenever he noticed you sitting by yourself, your fingers absentmindedly scratching at your skin, he’d beckon you over. “Y/N! Come here! I’ve got something cool to show you!”You’d roll your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. He’d hand you some little trinket—usually a part of a gadget he was working on—and challenge you to figure out how it worked.

“These gears fit together how exactly?” you’d ask, holding up two mismatched pieces. Usopp would smirk, leaning against the workbench with a cocky expression. “Ah, you see, that’s a trade secret. But I suppose I could teach you… if you’re nice to me.” “Nice? Oh, please,” you’d reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m always nice to you, Love.” He’d chuckle, then launch into an enthusiastic explanation about the mechanism, complete with sound effects and exaggerated gestures. Half the time, you had no idea what he was saying, but you didn’t mind. Watching him light up, his voice filled with passion, was more than enough for you.

Then there were the quieter days. On those rare occasions when the crew wasn’t caught up in some grand adventure, you and Usopp would retreat to the aquarium. The peaceful hum of the water and the gentle swaying of the Sunny made it the perfect spot to relax.

The gentle gurgle of water and the soft, rhythmic swish of fish fins filled the aquarium, creating a tranquil symphony. The light refracted through the tank’s glass, casting wavy blue shadows across the floor. You sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Usopp on the cushioned bench, his hand clasped warmly in yours. Neither of you spoke, but there was no need for words—the silence felt full, not empty, like a soft blanket wrapping around you both.

Your thumb idly traced the callouses on his palm, a subtle reminder of the work he put into everything he cared about. Usopp’s hand fit perfectly in yours, rough yet comforting, like holding a tether to something steady in an unpredictable world. You could feel his heartbeat in the quiet stillness, a steady rhythm that mirrored the calm you felt whenever he was near.

Usopp’s gaze lingered on the tank, but you caught him sneaking glances at you out of the corner of your eye. His face softened whenever he looked your way, a quiet, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. For all his bluster and bravado, there was a gentleness to him in moments like these—an unspoken vulnerability that made your chest tighten with affection.

The fish glided lazily through the water, their vibrant scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tank lights. You wondered if Usopp saw the same beauty in them that you saw in him—bright, intricate, and endlessly fascinating.As if sensing your thoughts, Usopp gave your hand a small squeeze, grounding you. He didn’t say anything, but the action spoke volumes, You'd leaned your head against his shoulder, a quiet smile curling at your lips.

Over time, you started to notice a change in yourself. The fidget toys Usopp had made, the trinkets he gave you to tinker with, the quiet moments in the aquarium—all of it seemed to help. You weren’t picking at your skin as much. The urge was still there sometimes, but it was easier to resist. One evening, as you sat on the deck watching the sunset, you turned to Usopp. “Hey.” He looked up from the slingshot he was polishing, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. He tilted his head, confused. “For what?” “For everything,” you replied. “For noticing when I’m struggling. For finding ways to help without making me feel bad about it. For just… being you.” His eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess I should say thank you too. For putting up with me. And, you know, for being you.” You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “We’re a pretty good team, huh?” “The best,” he said, his voice full of confidence.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Life on the sea was unpredictable, filled with dangers and uncertainties. But with Usopp by your side, you knew you could face anything. After all, he wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your partner, your teammate, and, most importantly, your friend. And that was more than enough.

[montypng]

it takes two !

[ID: two coloured drawings. the first is of party poison sitting crouched; they look off to the side with a scowl and their body is peppered with scars and freckles. their hair is shoulder-length and shoddily dyed red, and they have a pair of green goggles pushed up onto their forehead. their tank top is pale green with the words "killer queen" printed on in a weird font. they are wearing denim cutoffs and thick-soled combat boots with purple laces.

the second drawing is kobra kid, looking slightly annoyed and wearing his trademark red racing jacket and tiger print shirt. he has an incomplete cleft lip, acne, and a choppy blond mullet in desperate need of rebleaching. his look is completed by snake bites and dice earrings which have rolled snake eyes. /end ID]

[innerfare]

Scars - Sabo  

Summary: Sabo has been feeling a little insecure since he met you; a short drabble

Genre: A little fluffy, a little angsty

CW: None // SFW

Word Count: 890

———

Sabo never felt insecure about his scars before he met you. 

Scars were badges of honor, something to be worn with pride. They were a sign that he had stared down foes and persevered, that he had fought and lived, that he had experience under his belt and was a man to be respected. And the scar on his face, in particular, was something to be proud of, given to him by a Celestial Dragon. Not many people could claim they had survived an encounter with a World Noble, certainly not when they were a mere child. 

Sabo was young, but he was a battle-hardened revolutionary soldier under the tutelage of Monkey D. Dragon himself. He had run away from home at a young age and trained alongside some of the most fearsome pirates of his age in the wilderness. And yet, he stared into the mirror with a forlorn look on his face, a boy uncertain of himself. 

He didn’t have acne- he was lucky in that regard- and Ivankov always told him he was a pretty boy, something he had disdained initially but was now grateful for. Or was that wrong? Did girls like pretty boys? Did you? Or was he right to scorn the nickname? 

He ran his fingers through his blonde hair. It was soft, and blonde- did you like blonde? His lifetime of training had left him lithe and muscled, and even though his face was pretty, his shoulders and hands were quite masculine. Was that enough? Did you like that? 

He let out a heavy sigh, thinking it didn’t matter. No amount of prettiness or manliness would get rid of the scar on his face, and a lifetime of training had not prepared him to stand on his own two feet when you were in the same room as him, when you made eye contact with him across the table and offered him that soft smile, when you said his name to get his attention. 

His meltdown in front of his bathroom mirror had been triggered by you giving him half of the chocolate chip cookie you had been eating with your afternoon tea. He’d barely choked it down, not because it tasted bad, but because his stomach was flipping with what he could only describe as inadequacy. 

The fear of you secretly disliking it when he was in the same room as you, detesting the lopsided smile he always threw back at you, and despising the sound of his voice when he said your name made his piping hot blood run as cold as ice. 

He scrubbed his hand over the scar as if it might wipe off. He had many more beneath his collar, but at least he could hide those beneath clothes. The one on his face was visible for all to see and, unfortunately, permanent. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at his bedroom door. 

Sabo jumped, knocked out of his thoughts by the sound. With a huff, he stalked out of the bathroom and went for the bedroom door, pulling it open. “Yeah? What?” 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” came your sweet voice. 

Sabo blinked down at you in shock. Every ounce of annoyance left his body at the sight of you standing there with his jacket in hand, shifting back and forth on your feet as though uncertain, probably because he had opened the door in such a mood. 

“You left this behind. I thought you might want it back.” 

He stared at the jacket in your hand, thinking how foolish he’d been to take it off in the meeting room. You had been in the meeting room, after all; what if he had rolled up his sleeves without thinking twice and flashed some more of his scars? A grim expression settled onto his face, the stress of it all dragging his lips down into a frown. 

“Sabo?” You asked. “Are you alright?” 

He noticed your expression sinking, too, though with concern rather than frustration. It made him want to die again. 

“Fine,” he ground out. 

“You don’t seem fine,” you said, still holding the jacket out to him. 

“I’m just… I’m just a little tired.” He accepted the jacket and noticed immediately that it smelled a bit like you. 

“Oh, well. It works for you.” You pushed your hands into your pockets. 

“What do you mean?” Sabo asked. 

“I mean you look cute when you’re tired.” 

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Even with this scar on my face?” 

You looked genuinely shocked by what he had said. “Especially with the scar on your face. It’s one of the best parts about you.” You offered him that small smile of yours. “Anyway, I still have some work to get done. I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, not having any clue what you had just done. 

Sabo closed the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. As soon as it closed, he jumped for joy, a grin spreading wide across his face. He felt like a balloon about to pop. It’s one of the best parts about you. He collapsed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, that same, dumb smile on his face. He didn’t think he’d ever scowl again. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[aayakashii]

"Go inside. Immediately." Romeo lightly pushed you inside his obscenely wide bathroom and pointed at the tall wooden stool propped in front of his bathroom counter.

"You really don't have to do this..." you dragged your feet slowly and stood awkwardly beside the seating, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You had a full face of makeup, carefully and masterfully applied by Romeo himself after he required your presence in Sinostra for a special night. Some rich student decided to celebrate their birthday at the casino, and Romeo would be damned not to take that chance to drain their pockets for all they were worth.

What was your role in it? Romeo wasn't really sure. But he did make sure, however, that you were there and impeccably attired.

And he did a great job, if he must say so himself. Especially with your eyes. They looked striking and sharp, and he watched all night, with smugness and a bit of a weird discomfort he couldn't quite understand, how so many students seemed to willingly trap themselves inside your gaze. If Romeo could have gotten a nickel for every student who complimented your eyes, he was pretty sure he could have made some solid cash.

Alas, he didn't, so he could only listen as stupid boy after stupid girl after stupid boy after stupid girl came and went, complimenting his very own work of art. The makeup. Obviously. Makeup is artistry, after all. You just happened to be a convenient, compliant canvas (that he kept close to himself all night).

Or so he kept saying to himself.

"Quiet." He hissed, closing the door to the bathroom and making his way towards you and his counter. He unceremoniously grabbed your shoulders and turned you around, with your back now facing the mirror.

"If I don't do this, you'll definitely do a terrible job removing your makeup, then you'll get acne because of those clogged pores, and THEN you'll be even more of an eyesore for me. In the end, I'm doing this for MY sake. Sit down and shut up." He rambled on, satisfied enough with his excuse, as he thoroughly washed his hands.

"Sure..." you said, rolling your eyes, disbelief making itself clear on your voice as you sat on the wooden stoll.

"Do you have any allergies?" He rummaged through the drawers of his counter, carefully selecting a whole collection of products and placing them right next to you. Romeo flipped his hair as he admired himself in the mirror for a second.

"No, siree." You answered, feet dangling as you read the flashy labels of the products.

"Good." He huffed. "Lean back on the counter and close your eyes. Don't open them, otherwise you're gonna get itchy eyes and I don't wanna hear you whine."

"Ooookay." You muttered and leaned back, doing as he said. You knew there wasn't much reason for you to discuss with him when he had his mind set on doing something his way, so you just chose to accept your fate.

Romeo opened a bottle of ridiculously expensive micellar water and poured it on a makeup wipe, shuffling closer to you as he leaned down to apply it on your face.

As much as he tried not to focus on your face as he slowly dragged the cotton pad on your skin, Romeo couldn't help but observe all of your minute details.

He couldn't help but notice how your pores were a bit bigger on your cheeks and how you had the thinnest, almost imperceptible, crease lines between your eyebrows. Probably from furrowing them on the daily, and knew he probably contributed to the etching of those lines on you. He thought of maybe getting you your own jade roller but dismissed the idea with a shake of his head – why would he willingly spend his own money on someone else? That would never be his brand.

He noticed the acne scars on your cheeks and your forehead and scowled. Not at the markings per se, but at how his mind immediately raced to imagine how you looked during your teenage years. You were probably a mess, even more unkempt and disastrous than you were as an adult – a pitiful ugly duckling; something completely unrelatable to Romeo, who had perfect porcelain skin his whole life (a courtesy of being born with a golden spoon in his hands).

And yet, it still frustrated him how he would never be privy to the life you had before meeting him. He would never see you grow into yourself, like a baby deer with shaking legs finally learning how to trot a little less clumsily. Romeo would never be part of a whole chunk of your past, and deep inside, it upset him.

And the fact that he was upset made him scowl ever harder. His fingers unconsciously pressed down on your skin more forcefully, and you winced.

"Hey, don't use so much strenght." You murmured, holding his wrist with one hand. Romeo clicked his tongue, shaking you off.

He grabbed another cotton pad and applied a dab of moisturizer, resuming his ministrations with less intensity.

And with them, his eyes focused on you again: on the dark circles under your eyes and your darker eyelids. On the fine smile lines on the sides of your lips and the bunny lines on the bridge of your nose. He analyzed every patch of discoloration and hyperpygmentation on your face with some sort of secret reverence that he wished eluded him, but didn't.

After all, you lived through joy, sorrow, anger, and despair, and your skin told your story to those who could see it up close. You were an open book for him, someone who could read the words carved in every little detail of your face. He could almost claim he knew you best just from that. What he didn't know, however, was if you were brave or just plain stupid.

Romeo knew his flawless appearance wasn't exactly the blueprint for courage. He donned a mask of perfection in order to stay in control: to control how others saw him and to control how he saw himself. The more poreless and uniform his skin was, the more things could stay the same, with money in his pockets and people under his command.

And so, he hid his traumas under retinol serum and rosehip oil and infrared lights. Fake it till you make it, or so his mother would say after it all came crashing down.

Romeo knew better than anyone else that he couldn't be as vulnerable as you. Vulnerability would mean assuming his losses and bequeathing the only power he had.

So if that meant you were just a bit stronger than he was, just a bit more courageous than he was, then maybe – maybe – he could quietly admit to himself that he admired you.

He would never ever say that to your face, though. Fuck no. That would never be his brand.

[niki-phoria]

you got me moonstruck

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 442

notes: possibly ooc gojo (my apologies), i don't actually understand tengen's ability so sorry if that's wrong lol, inspo from this prompt list by @thepromptswhisperer, title from enhypen - moonstruck (it wasn't an intro we cheered !!)

a blanket of darkness covers the sky, only broken by the occasional glints of the stars above. the occasional chirps of crickets and leaves bustling from the gentle breeze fill the night. a faint glow of moonlight paints the world silver; the light glints off the harsh edges of the ever-changing temples that decorate the jujutsu high campus. 

your eyes flutter closed as you take a deep breath, letting the weight of protecting the world slip momentarily from your shoulders. the tension in your body relaxes for a second, safe within the confines of tengen’s barriers. “the sky is beautiful, isn’t it?”

GOJO SATORU shifts beside you, sighing softly as he leans his head against your shoulder. soft strands of stray hair tickle against the exposed skin of your neck. he hums quietly, staring out at the horizon ahead. “the view isn’t bad.”

“not bad?” you repeat, playfully pushing satoru’s head away from you. “i show you a beautiful nature view and all you can say is that it’s ‘not bad?’” 

he chuckles, moving to cross his legs beneath him. ���there are more beautiful views in my opinion,” he shrugs. satoru smirks as he props his arm up, leaning his cheek against his hand. “like this one.”

you scoff in response, playfully rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “shut up.” he chuckles when you lean back against your hands, staring directly upwards at the moon. 

with no retaliation from satoru, you fall into a comfortable silence once again. his lips quirk into a soft, unconscious smile as he admires your features. his brilliant eyes usually used to protect the world, instead find solace in studying the slope of your nose; the edge of your jawline; how your hair falls in waves to frame your face. 

“satoru?” he nearly startles at the quiet call of your voice; a deep flush spreads across his cheeks, staining the skin a cherry pink. you chuckle softly when you reach up to cup his face in your hands. your fingertips dance against his soft skin, sending shivers racing down his spine. “are you alright? your face is kinda red.”

satoru purses his lips as he turns away. your shared laughter fills the night when you cup his cheeks, turning his head until he’s looking forward once again. his breath hitches in his throat when you swipe your thumb against his skin, tracing your fingertips along faded acne scars and still-healing bruises. “are you blushing?” you tease.

his eyes shine like diamonds despite the darkness; they look strikingly beautiful as satoru’s gaze follows your movements. “i can’t help it when you look at me like that.” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[birdietrait]

🎲birdie's random cas challenge🎲

✿ This challenge is all about mixing different prompts together to get interesting results! 

✿ Sometimes rolls can be redundant or conflict with each other, so if that's the case, just re-roll!

✿ If you don’t roll an occult type in The Main Theme, you are free to choose! I didn’t include human because it’s the default. 

✿ Use the tag #birdie.rcc and tag me so I can see your sims!

Use this to create a new sim, make over a townie, or make over one of your own sims!

Here is a random number generator that may come in handy

Rolls under the cut 🕺

The Main Theme 1-58 (Roll 1-3 times)

Your favorite movie

The forest

Your favorite decade

Cyberpunk

Western

The ocean

The first song in your favorite playlist

A myth/fairy tale

Your favorite TV series

Emo

Goth

Grunge

Punk

Skater

Pastel

Rainbow

Boho

Hippie

Streetwear

Vampire

Alien

Spellcaster

Plant Sim

Werewolf

Fairy

Ghost

Zombie

Mermaid

Horror

Your favorite video game (other than the sims)

Preppy

Retro

Your favorite book

Your star sign

The moon

Apocalyptic 

Fantasy

Medieval 

Winter

Spring

Summer

Autumn

Your favorite flower

Your birthstone

Your favorite cryptid

Sporty

Rocker

Glam

Dark academia

Royalty

The sun

Monochromatic 

Barbie

Bratz

Your favorite color

Primary colors

Prom

An iconic townie (from any sims game)

Details 1-40 (Roll as many times as you like)

Bald

Buzz cut

Short hair

Medium length hair

Long hair

Black hair

Brown hair

Blonde hair

Red hair

White hair

Grey hair

Colorful hair

Warm skin tone 

Neutral skin tone

Cool skin tone

Fantasy skin tone

Blue eyes

Brown eyes

Green eyes

Black eyes

White eyes

Grey eyes

Hazel eyes

Colorful/Fantasy eyes

Freckles

Eye bags

Scars

Body hair

Piercings

A hat

Glasses

No makeup 

Minimal/Neutral makeup

Colorful makeup

No eyebrows

Fangs

Dimples

Gap teeth

Tattoos 

Acne

[anothergoodtime]

Fat rolls and cellulite because I eat food, scars because I have a history, stretch marks and acne because I have a hormonal condition, glasses because my eyes don’t work…. Just me doing my best, take it or leave it. ✨

[skibiditoiletfan69]

Skincare and fashion alternative’s for my broke and/or poor girl and guy’s.

Skincare

Trust me when I tell you,

Rose water is my holy fing grail for skin. It fight’s infection’s, is gentle on the skin, make’s ur skin smooth, reduces redness, reduces skin discolouring, help’s acne scar’s and is an anticancer. Not to mention, you could get it at ur local grocery store for less than two dollar’s.

Water. I know you hear this over and over again but water is one of the key part’s of skin. Wash your face throughly at least three time’s a day with a face wash. I use dove. When I say face wash, it could be shampoo. Use a gentle one, everyone’s skin is different. Drink at least four cup’s a day.

Cucumber. You could get an spray bottle from you’re local dollar store but if you want to be diy, you could use you’re hand’s, it does not matter as long as it get’s on you’re face evenly. What I do is I cut cucumber into tiny pieces and put it in a bottle with water. (Bottled is the best.) and leave it to cool. At night or whenever, I spray it onto my face and then slap my face lightly so the blood goes to it. The cucumber water give’s your face an radiant complexion and reduces skin inflimation.

Rice water. The same thing as above. Get rice and let it sit in water for a good while, a couple of hour’s or even up to a day in the fridge. Take out the rice, lol but keep the water as it is your mist. It does not matter what kind you use, you could use a bag from your local dollar store or mom’s pantry. The benefit’s of the rice water are anti aging, anti inflammation, moisturising and even help’s with eczema.

Threading is my holy grail! Instead of spending money on waxing or razor’s, you can buy a roll of thread which will last you forever. It will take a few trie’s until you get it but the result’s are worth it. Threading is gentle on the skin, pull’s the hair from its root’s, has lasting result’s ( I do not have to thread for a month after.) and has better accuracy.

I hope these help. If u want any more alternative’s, dm me.❤️

[escapisttt]

tw for scab picking if that bothers you!! fellow scab pickers unite

sam who smells the blood when anyone in the pack picks their scabs and always heals it for them.

asher, sweetheart, and darlin’ are the usual suspects. and i use ‘suspects��� quite literally because they always try to hide it or just don’t say anything, instead wiping away any blood on their leg or sucking on the reopened scratch on their finger. angel is also a picker but they usually outright ask sam to heal them once they’ve started bleeding.

asher gets bacne and can often be seen with his hand under his shirt picking at his shoulders. baabe tries to get him to stop with a light kick to his leg but it only lasts for a few minutes. he’s been doing it since he hit puberty, it’s literally muscle memory. a comfort. but, when he sees little spots of blood on the back of his shirts, he cringes. sometimes when baabe is away in the bathroom or david is in the kitchen, sam is the one to finally elbow him. after taking his hand out of his shirt, ash looks over and sees the slight dilation in sam’s eyes. his gaze shifts down to the blood under his fingernail. oh. “oh! shit—i’m sorry buddy! you know, david bought a couple blood bags in case you get—” sam cuts him off. “i ain’t thirsty. just let me get that for you, the sound is killin’ me.” sam rolls his eyes and hovers his hand over asher’s back with a stern expectance. asher smiles, taking his shirt off with an affirmative nod. he usually gets the most shit from sam just because asher in general is a shit, but it all comes from a good place. after a few moments, asher’s scabs are gone. “wow! no more acne scarring! nice, man!”

sweetheart, of course, lives with their mate and his cat aggro. they’ve always been a cat person and was no stranger to their nature, which is why they never gave their cat scratches much attention. aggro is a feisty little guy just like his dad but it never deters sweetheart. they always ruffle his feathers with the toy laser or by trying to wrangle him in the tub. this all means that sweetheart’s poor hands, feet, legs, arms, you name it, are often patchy with shallow scratches. and they can’t help but pick at them, the perfectionist part of their brain urging them to make their skin level and smooth. but some scratches—usually the ones on their legs from when aggro will pop out from under the couch and latch onto them—are deeper than others. they like to sit with their knees tucked up or their legs criss-crossed; anything with their feet not on the floor, really. this gives them easy access to pick and peel at their leg scratches, occasionally furrowing their brows in concentration when they reach a scab that’s really embedded, their completionist mindset urging them to get it out. they don’t even realize that their fingertips are coated in a thin layer of blood until their grip becomes slippery. and, more recently, until sam notices. sweetheart and sam have a closer relationship with more respect and good humor between them—and, ever since the summit, a protectiveness. when sam get that metallic scent coming from them, he instantly knows what they’re doing and is more concerned than annoyed. he nudges them and gains their eye contact before wordlessly putting his hand on their shin, giving them a small, knowing smile. they chuckle and smile back, shaking their head in a silent, ‘oh, shut up.’

darlin’ thankfully doesn’t need the amount of healing they used to, but they still have their small moments. they get their small wounds when they go running in the woods in their wolf form. some forests in dahlia are denser than others, and their hulking wolf gets caught on a lot of branches and sharp tree bark. they never stop running though, since it’s their escape. what do a couple of scrapes compare to the feeling of total freedom? well, sam could tell them, has told them. still, darlin’ doesn’t mind these blemishes. at least they got them on their own terms. if sam had it his way, he’d heal the scabs as soon as he saw them, but darlin’ always throws the phrase, ‘i’m not bleeding, so it’s fine!’ in his face. sam thinks their stubbornness is both cute and dangerous for his health. but when they harshly scratch and peel at them, sam quickly has enough. he instantly picks up the scent of their familiar, mouthwatering liquid gold. he steels himself wherever they are, whether it be at milo’s house or the pack den, and gives them a steely look. they just roll their eyes at being caught and plop their leg or arm in his lap, whichever is bleeding at the time. though they might try, they aren’t as sneaky as they think. his warm magic is swift and pleasant, making darlin’s eyes droop a bit. as if they needed another push to fall asleep during a pack meeting.

and angel the icon instantly runs over to sam to get the smallest cut fixed. annoying hangnail? “sam!” scratch from aggro? “sam!” a shoe rubbing them the wrong way on the back of their achilles? “sam!” you get it lmfao they ain’t shy.

did i fr just make an entire ramble post because i was picking at a scab on my leg? yeah so what.

[vrystalius]

Can I have Kyojuro/ sanemi with a s/o who is having trouble with her acne? There are days when the otc doesn’t work and everything feels crummy during some days in the cycle, would love a pick me up <3

Ultimate comfort

It’s the time of your month again- no, not the bloody one, but rather the gloomy, acne and depressed part of your cycle. Although, Sanemi is always ready to comfort you!

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!reader

Sanemi isn’t the best with kind words, nor does he look like he is, but he’s rather observant and attentive to you and your behaviours, meaning he noticed rather quickly how you were avoiding the mirrors and picking on your face more and more often subconsciously.

While you two were savouring a peaceful evening together where your husband doesn’t have to go on a mission or attend some meeting, Sanemi was relaxing on your shared bed, dressed in simple comfortable hakama pants, watching you frown and pout at yourself in the handheld mirror. While he was stuffing his face with sweets and snacks he had prepared beforehand, you avoided all sugary foods as if your life depended on it and gulping glas after glas of water like you didn’t survive of half a cup of water just last week is making his head steam in thought.

You’ve been just miserable, so what’s up with you?

A groan escaped his lips as he rolled over and slid off the mattress, stepping over to you with a tired frown. He gently grabbed the mirror out of your hands and threw it aside onto a cupboard. As you looked up at him in confusion, Sanemi grabbed you by your cheek and pulled on it.

“Whatcha even looking at for so long, huh? You’ve been scratchin’ and pouting all day. All week, maybe.”

You groaned and let your head fall back, sliding out of his grasp.

“I just feel so gross. My face— there’s so much texture and damn cysts, and I want to get it all away, but if I do, it’ll scar and become even worse!! I don’t wanna look in the mirror but at the same time I have to to-“

“Shut, shush. Shhh.”

Sanemi cut you off by closing your lips with his fingers. His face contorted into a scowl while staring down at your face. He isn’t angry at you or disgusted in any way, he’s angry at why you’re thinking like that.

“Tch, don’ talk like that. You shouldn’t care about stupid spots. Hell no.”

Your cheek was gently grabbed by your husband, whining as he pulled at him.

“You’re gorgeous. Always have been, always will be. Shitty weeks come and go, jus’ tell me what to do and I’ll get on my hands n’ knees for you if it makes you feel better.”

“But-“

“Nuh uh, no buts.”

He harshly cut you off and leaned down to you, placing a long kiss on your forehead with a loud “mwah”.

“You’re too damn hard on yourself. Everyone’s got crap they don’ like about themselves, but you? You’ve got more good in you than you give yourself credit for.”

Sanemi’s hand came to rest on top of your head, gently running his fingers through your hair. His tone and words may be a little gruff and he may have pulled on your cheek a little too harshly, but he’s just trying to show his support. Again, he may not be good with words but he is trying his best to show his love in other ways.

He doesn’t let you spiral in your thoughts too long, instead dragging you to the kitchen for snacks, outside for a walk or to bed for a cuddle, forcing you to do something nice with him in order to keep your thoughts away.

And if you really, really want to, Sanemi’ll let you put on a stupid face mask on his face. Everything to make you feel better.

💠

I hope you feel better! Apologies for not writing for this much earlier, I hope the timing was right anyway :,) Also if you like, I can also write a Kyojuro part of this! I thought I should write a little something for Sanemi again since last week was pretty much all about Kyo XD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this 🫶🫶

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves, mentally and physically <33