#scarlin

[oliverscarlin]

The Three Gays, Sis - Oliver Scarlin

white earthenware with celadon glaze, 2022

[grundoonmgnx]

Oliver Scarlin, The Fool /Self-portrait with Tulips, 2024

[destruteka]

Dragon year

Although it was a bit difficult to modify this qipao for his wings, Gila can now wear this beautiful garment to celebrate the new lunar year with the pandas !

Posted using PostyBirb

[sp-ud]

Some more misc pose practice sketches

[mafiasliege]

I have a headcanon: after Avery's wound from the blackwood incident heals, she's got this big scarline on her collarbone. She's insecure about it so when Jameson notices he kisses her scar. And now whenever any one of them gets insecure about their scars (yes, even Jameson, even though it's highly unlikely) they kiss each other's scars Ahsfske9eihebabbamaaaaaahhhhh

[tollosebio-stuff]

Oliver Scarlin

[niphuial]

Elias looks up, amber eyes sparkling with laughter and chin slightly sticky with strawberry juice as he grins. "I'm supposed to find the bad strawberries and keep only the good ones," he reported dutifully, a small pile of the remains of bad strawberries sitting beside him. "We get to eat the bad strawberries ifin they're not too bad, Auntie Kat let's us." He holds up up a strawberry, a bruise in it's side and he eats it. "Uncle Lucian makes yummy bread with the good strawberries," he told Niklaus, giving the remaining strawberries and amber-eyed glare. "We jus' gotta get the bad ones first like Auntie asked."

Katerina nuzzles against his hand, humming. "I feel alot better," she confides, voice a whisper for only his ears. "After having some of your blood--I feel healthier, stronger. It no longer hurts to take breath." She confides, taking note on how Elijah's eyes widen. "She cut deeply," she murmurs, eyes flashing gold at the memory.

"The blade was forged in wolfsbane, so the cut does not seal or heal easily either. I fear I'll have that red line for some time yet." She added, shaking her head as Elijah's gaze falls to her stomach, and she knows he's seeing the pale red scarline that exists upon it now, which slowly fades away every time she drinks blood.she gives him a gimlet eye. "I'll try and trust you with Elias's Sweet Milk while I make breakfast. All you have to do is stir it and add fresh milk and sugar to it every so often--and a new stick of vanilla," she informs him leading him to the pot. "It's not hard, and it's not complicated. Just don't let it burn either, because this helps keep his muscles and joints relaxed as well," she murmurs, handing him the mixing spoon.

Lucian nods, opening the door and blinking in surprise to see a bloodless and clean breakfast scene. Elias looks up from his massacre of strawberries, face sticky, and waves at them "Morning Uncle Lucian, and Uncle Lucian's Friend! Is Auntie Kat going to send you home now like she did the others?!?" Lucian feels his face flame red as Katerina and Rebekah burst into laughter, while Niklaus smirks.

Katerina coughs delicately, a smirk on her face. "Thank you, Kol, Thank you, Lucian, for staying up and cooking the main course last night." She says, fighting another smirk as Lucian still red-faced looks her in the eye. She bends down to Elijah, and idly tells him. "Perhaps you should probably introduce Elias to your family a bit early."

this would be fun to watch

[icelandic-affection]

I want my bones to look like scarlines on my skin ♡

[scarlettsuniverse]

scarlett johansson + colin jost | headers

please like or reblog if you use;

or credits @edgeofwidow on twitter;

do NOT repost.

[oliverscarlin]

Oliver Scarlin - The Jester (Self Portrait with Penny Whistle) (2024)

[vastiitas]

He shuffles out from the bathroom, boot heels clicking tile to carpet. "Big folk like that only know how t'look big," Crow's feet wrinkles indent the corners of his eyes as he rifles through their luggage, unzips the aforementioned blue carry-on, and rummages arm-deep within its polyester stomach. From here, he can still hear the bathroom flourescents buzzing like the over-burdened wings of a june bug beatle. The bathroom acoustics bow out her voice, makes it float and dream-like.

"Reckon I look better than you, Birdy," He returns to her porcelain station with the kit hugged between his fingers: a travel-sized container made of cheap plastics scrapped off a gas station shelf. He crooks a thin-lipped, canted smile, but it's got nothing on Lena's feral flash of red teeth. "I'll survive." He's going to feel the son of a bitch like a motherfucker tomorrow. They both will, for their respective injuries.

For now, he stumbles down to a kneel, shoves his thumbs against the clasps and snaps them to a release. The kit butterflies open to suture materials, gauze, packets of alcohol-infused cotton and standard band-aids. Cole pilfers through, rips open one of the alcohol swabs, and tosses its casing carelessly towards the clear plastic-lined waste bucket. It lands on the rim.

"Ain't got much for that broken nose of your's," His brows push in to a knit, concentration kneading his eyes to a squint as he dabs down fractured skin, navigates a scarline dragging across a temple. The red sinks in, blooms. He tosses this, too, and finds the butterfly closures. His hands hover, linger. Despite their steadiness, a concussion delays his handling: Some visible two-second setback. He murmurs, distractedly, "Plenty of ice in the lobby machine for when we hunker down tonight."

Time ticked by in a lurching matter, here one second and gone the next. Ten hours took them up the stairs, stumbling into the door. Trekking from door to bathroom another ten minutes. Things skipped by quickly then, Chickadee nosing concernedly at her face and blood flecking out from a lopsided nose at dazzling rates. Lena remembered a haunted house as a kid, the flashing strobes making things move at impossible rates.

Throughout their impossible stumble back to the motel, Lena gifted him with the blind trust he's earned after these years. She sat, shifting awkwardly on the toilet, resting the base of her skull against the cool porcelain while he moved about above her. Any semblance of paranoia she once had filtered out between the scuffs of violence and fleeting moments of peace.

She was startled from her stupor by a wet nose in her fingers, pressing comfortably between palms and into her lap. A familiar sensation, comforting. Brown eyes flickered open, gazing through the swollen tissue to look up at Cole. Busy. Always busy.

"In my carryon." It was rough, crass, but harmless against the gloom of the evening. "Blue bag."

There was a beat of easy silence, and Lena didn't mind breaking it, voice hoarse against the irritant of backwash blood and resonance shattered through the crook of her nose. "Y'know, 'ad the big'un m'self. Talk'd a bi' game bu' they fall easy."

Bloodied slugged out, crusting over the splits in skin and tissue alike. It buried into ravines of flesh, dried in the rivulets left behind by predecessors. It was familiar, a distant reminder of the past scarred into freckled skin, but it didn't bother Lena like similar reminders had.

"Was pretty impressed, taking that bottle across the head like that. Sure you're okay?"

[grundoonmgnx]

Oliver Scarlin, Plums, Bowl & Paper Cups, 2022

[carloskaplan]

Oliver Scarlin: Brushing Teeth

[repubblicabanana]

Oliver Scarlin

Harry at the tide pool

[tollosebio-stuff]

Oliver Scarlin

[pastart]

Floating Apple

Oliver Scarlin (2019)