#tw scar discussion

[clownrecess]

(tw for implied sh, and discussion of scars in general)

Hey, its summer so I just wanted to say that I do not care what someones scars look like. What color they are, the size, shape, etc. It does not matter. Do not stare at them. Do not comment on them.

Bodies with scars are good bodies. People with scars do not owe you an explanation, nor do we need to cover up.

[arecaceae175]

Whumptober Day 27: Matches, Scars

AO3 link. I'm still working my way through whumptober :D.

AND!!!! THIS IS MY 50TH WORK POSTED ON AO3!!!!!! :DDDDD

Summary: The chain relaxes in a hot spring, and Wild notices Sky has a scar that matches one of his. 1052 words. Sky & Wild.

Warnings: scars, discussion of scars, lightning scars, Sky starts to feel very uncomfortable because of discussion of scars (not graphic, doesn't reach panic attack stage)

Whump rating: 1/5. Very light-hearted vibes

Sky lowered himself into the hot spring with a long, content sigh. The heat immediately soothed his aching muscles, and the pressure of the water felt incredible. Sky sighed happily again, letting his eyes slide shut and his head fall back to rest on the rocks. The angle made the pain in his neck more pronounced, Sky realized with a wince, but he didn’t have the energy to hold his head up. 

“Sky, here,” Wild said. 

“Hm?” 

“Lift your head for me?” Wild asked. 

Sky lifted his head without opening his eyes. He heard Wild shuffling behind him. 

“Okay, good,” Wild said.

Sky dropped his head again and made a surprised noise when it landed on something soft. It kept his head raised enough that the angle didn’t put pressure on his neck. Sky smiled widely as he reached up to adjust the fabric into the perfect position. He opened his eyes to meet Wild’s above him.

“Thanks, champion,” Sky said. Wild beamed. 

Sky finished adjusting the fabric then let his arms splash back into the water. He let them float on top, making small waves with careful motions. 

On the other side of the spring, Wind and Hyrule were taking turns being thrown into the spring by Twilight. Their laughter was like music to Sky, and he relished in the sound. Sky could see Four watching closely, and Sky hoped he would set aside his maturity for long enough to play, too. 

A comfortable distance away from the splashing, Time, Warriors, and Legend were reclined comfortably in the water. Warriors and Legend were playfully arguing about something. Although Sky couldn’t hear, he suspected Time was antagonizing them on purpose, based on the man’s mischievous smirk. 

Sky chuckled softly to himself. It was a perfect day.

There was a small splash as Wild flopped into the spring. The water lapped up against Sky’s chest. The heat stung comfortably. 

“This was a great idea,” Sky said. “The heat feels so nice.”

“It has healing properties, too,” Wild said. 

“Oh, really?” Sky asked. 

Wild nodded as he pulled his hair tie out and began combing his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. The science is pretty cool, actually. Yunobo explained it to me once. The water here is connected to the great fairies springs, but there’s also a reaction that happens with some chemical I don’t remember the name of because of the heat.”

“Cool,” Sky said. They fell into comfortable silence as Wild worked on his hair and Sky worked on relaxing.  

“Hey, Sky?” Wild asked. His voice was soft and hesitant. Sky looked at him in surprise.

“Yeah?” Sky asked.

“Those lines,” Wild said. 

Sky followed his gaze. The bright lightning scars started on his hand and branched up his arm, then down the right side of his torso and all the way down his right leg. 

“They’re from lightning, right?” Wild asked. 

“They are,” Sky pushed the words out through tight throat. The nerves in his hand tingled. He kept his gaze on the water. 

“Look, I have some too! We’re matching!” Wild said. Sky blinked in surprise at the change in his tone. 

Wild jumped up in the water and pointed to his hip. The same marks arched across Wild’s hip and down his leg. Sky had never noticed them before. Wild’s body was a mosaic of scar tissue more so than the rest of them. It all blended in Sky’s mind. That was what Wild looked like, and he had never paid any more attention to it than that.

“It’s from Thunderblight,” Wild said. “Made it through rubber armor and a shock resistant elixir.”

Sky didn’t know what rubber was. He decided to focus on that, rather than the shock of the lightning coursing through his body, and the blood-boiling anxiety of I have to get this shot right- have I held onto this one for too long- is this going to fry my heart- am I going to win.

“What’s rubber?” Sky asked. He thought his voice sounded remarkably steady, considering. 

Wild paused, blinking blankly at him. “I… don’t actually know.”

And just like that, Sky felt the tension in him break. He huffed a laugh and tried to force his muscles to relax, his heartbeat to slow. 

“You used it even though you don’t know what it is?” Sky asked. 

“Course I did. I didn’t know what anything was, at first,” Wild said with a grin. Sky nodded in acquiescence. He supposed that was true. 

Wild looked at Sky’s scars again, and his expression made Sky think he was going to ask another question. 

“Can, um,” Sky asked, swallowing thickly. “Can we change the subject?”

Wild’s eyes went wide. “Of course! I’m sorry, Sky, yeah. Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I was just- we matched, and-”

“Hey,” Sky said. He put his hands over Wild’s to still their rapid movements.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know,” Sky said. “But we’re here to relax, and I’d like to do that.”

“Yeah, totally. Sorry. We’ll do that,” Wild said. Sky smiled again, and leaned back on the fabric below his head. 

“Sky!” 

Legend’s yell came from across the spring. Sky groaned light-heartedly and reluctantly raised his head. Legend and Warriors were both rushing towards him in the water. They looked ridiculous, Sky thought, trying to move quickly through the spring. He stifled a laugh.

“You need to settle this for us. The old man can’t have a serious discussion for more than two seconds at a time,” Legend said, shooting a glare in Time’s direction. “You’ll be impartial.”

“There’s no way you’re winning this one,” Warriors said. 

“Shut it, pretty boy. Here’s the thing. I’m obviously the most fashionable hero, here-”

“Bullshit.”

“I said shut it! And since I’m obviously the most fashionable, I-”

“How are we deciding that? I think I should be in the running,” Wild said. 

“What? There’s no running, I’m just trying to make a point-”

“I dunno, I think I could give you a run for your rupees,” Wild said, complete with a shrug and a shit-eating grin to match Time’s. 

Sky stroked his chin in an imitation of deep thought. “Wild makes a good point, Vet. What’s the criteria here?”

Legend let out a strangled, frustrated noise and splashed backwards into the water.

[literallyjusttoa]

What scars from Zeus does Apollo have in second sons au?

He doesn't actually have many scars from Zeus, since any injuries he got were mostly bruises. The only scar he has is one at the top of his left eyebrow, which he got from the final fight he had with his dad before he left the house.

This feels pretty dark, so I'm gonna add one extra nice thing for this au. When Apollo left home, he didn't really have anywhere to go. He just stayed in a dorm at his college for the first six months, working extra jobs and terrified that he would run out of money. Luckily for him, he hit it off with his roommate that year, who was super kind and understanding of Apollo's triggers. The two of them managed to split the rent on a small apartment, which they continue to do to this day. That roommate is Admetus, and he and Apollo are 2 seconds away from dating but just never admit it.

[keldae]

A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking for your galemancer ❤️

Devi loved nighttime around camp. In the peaceful darkness, all was calm and relaxing, giving the party a needed reprieve from the stress of the day. That it meant she could retreat into Gale's cozy tent with the wizard in question only sweetened the deal for her.

Right now, she was on her side, facing Gale, lightly shivering as the cool night air tickled her exposed skin, damp as it was with sweat. Her heart had finally slowed back down after a round of passionate sex, one that made her grateful Gale had remembered to put up a silencing ward around the tent (lest other members of the group start yelling for the couple to fuck off). He had cast the spell already to clean away the mess they had left between her thighs; now he reclined on his side, his head propped up on his hand, fondly gazing at her. His other hand reached out, tracing over her cheek and ear with his fingers, a gentle, soft touch that made Devi feel safe and protected with him.

“You are a work of art,” Gale murmured, tracing the contours of Devi's face as though committing her to memory. “You are poetry taken flesh and sent to live among mere mortals. You are a treasure that deserves nothing less than the finest pedestal on which to display your beauty.”

Feeling a not-unpleasant warmth on her cheeks, Devi smiled at Gale, almost shy as he praised her. “You make me feel worthy of adoration,” she softly said. “You make me feel as beautiful as a goddess.”

“If nobody has told you before that you are beautiful to rival even Mystra, then every other lover you’ve had has been negligent. Worshipping you and your beauty is a blasphemy that I will happily partake in.” Gale’s eyes were soft as he gazed at Devi, his thumb tracing her lips. “Gods, how did I get so lucky as to have you here with me?”

Smiling, Devi kissed the pad of Gale’s thumb. “It turns out that I have a weakness for handsome wizards who snuggle me to sleep and read me bedtime stories.”

Gale chuckled softly. “And this wizard is incredibly grateful that you picked him, out of everyone you could have chosen to love.” He went quiet for a moment, his thumb shifting to trace the scar that cut vertically across Devi’s lips. “I don’t think you told me how you picked up this mark, my love…” he quietly said, his brow furrowing. 

Devi shook her head slightly. “I didn’t,” she softly confirmed. “I… angered Father and he threw a glass bottle at me. It missed me, but the shards of glass from when it hit the wall beside me left their marks. The one on my forehead was from the same bottle.” 

For a second, fury flickered through Gale’s eyes, followed by sorrow as he leaned in close. His lips touched the scar on Devi’s mouth, a gentle press that nearly made her cry sheerly from how tender his touch was; then he moved enough to kiss the scar on her temple. “Your father will have plenty to answer for when I meet him,” he muttered. “You will never suffer another wound at his hand again – I promise. Nobody harms my beloved.”

Feeling her eyes burning, Devi scooted closer to Gale on the rumpled bedroll, her hand settling on his shoulder. “Gods, I love you, my protective, handsome wizard,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss his neck.

“I love you too,” Gale murmured, kissing her forehead again over her scar. He leaned back a smidgen, just enough to take in more of Devi’s body with his gaze; his eyes settled on her neck tattoo. “You haven’t told me the story of this one,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss the tattoo.

Devi shivered as she felt Gale kiss his way over her skin. “So… I’m going to start by saying I was seventeen and fuelled entirely by spite and poor decisions,” she said with a little laugh. “I had found out that Father was planning to sell me to some lord’s son or nephew or something, and he wanted me to look pretty.” She heard Gale lowly growl something uncomplimentary at her father as he listened to her story. “My partner at the time, she had a friend who had a friend in Wyrm’s Crossing who could do tattoos… and, well, roses are my favourite flower. They gave me a drink of something that would dull the pain, and by dawn, I had this.” She wrinkled her nose and ruefully laughed. “I fainted once while they were doing the tattoo – it hurt so bad to have done.”

Gale winced as he pulled back from kissing the tattoo to meet Devi’s eyes. “I can only imagine the pain of a tattoo, forget having that on your neck, of all places. Can I safely assume that your father did not approve?”

“Oh, he was livid that I cost him the deal, since the lord in question thought the tattoo was ugly and refused to agree to the contract.” Devi smirked. “It was worth his rage and the punishment I got from him. I think that might have been the same partner who got my ears pierced too…”

“She was either a terrible influence, or an excellent one,” Gale chuckled. If Devi focused, she could hear the suppressed anger in his voice, directed at her father. “How did that relationship end, if I may ask?”

Devi shrugged. “Apparently I was an experiment for her to see if she liked women or not. She decided one day that she missed being with a man, told me we needed to go our separate ways, and I found out maybe a tenday later that she was a month pregnant at the time.”

“I wish I didn’t know that feeling,” Gale muttered. “A previous partner of mine, before Mystra, did something similar to me, when I was much younger. I didn’t know for certain that the child wasn’t mine until he was born with suspiciously pointed ears… to a human mother.”

“Oh, that bitch,” Devi growled, her hand gently rubbing Gale’s shoulder.

Gale ruefully chuckled. “I had a few choice words of my own for her when I told her to go to a particularly low level of the Hells. Tara nearly clawed her eyes out – not to mention how furious my mother was.” He snorted. “More insulting was how she tried to tell me that she was part Elf, despite me knowing that she was entirely human. I’ve never had my intelligence insulted like that before, or since.”

“You are far better off without that lying bitch in your life,” Devi murmured with a nod. 

“Indeed… particularly since it means that I get to have you in my life instead.” Gale smiled fondly at Devi and leaned in to kiss her gently. “You are a gift that I treasure, every moment that I am blessed to spend in your company, my love.”

Devi smiled as she kissed Gale back, scooting closer to him. “Which one of us is the lucky one again?” she murmured. “I’m pretty sure it’s me – the uneducated thief who fell for a handsome, compassionate, smart-as-all-hells wizard.”

“You are a master thief, my darling – you stole my heart months ago.” Gale chuckled. He leaned back slightly from the kisses, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin, his hand following his eyes over her body. He stopped at another scar on her forearm, his brow furrowing. “What was the story behind this scar?”

Devi looked at the scar and made a face. “That one was an accident. My brother Jehn was teaching me how to fight with knives, and he was demonstrating a strike that I was meant to block… he told me while he was trying to stitch me up afterward that I was supposed to block with my own knife and not my arm.”

Gale winced again. “Oh, Devi…”

“In my defence, I was… eight years old? Nine?” Devi shrugged. “I was young, and just learning how to use knives. Jehn didn’t mean to hurt me, and he did feel terrible about it.” She contemplated the scar again. “Honestly, the stitches he did to try and fix it hurt more than the initial wound.” 

“It’s a marvel that you didn’t bleed out or acquire an infection from that, or lose partial function in your hand,” Gale murmured, lifting Devi’s arm so he could tenderly kiss the scar. “How many more wounds did you get from Jehn while he was teaching you how to fight?”

“That one was the worst one from him, you’ll be happy to hear,” Devi assured him. “I got a few more cuts on my arms, and a couple of shallow wounds on my stomach – by then, he’d managed to steal some healing potions that he could use to patch me up from the worst of the wounds, so I was fine. And I gave him his share of wounds back – nearly broke his nose once.”

Gale softly chuckled. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, making Devi’s heart skip a beat in her chest at the endearment. He leaned in and rubbed his nose against hers for a moment. “My sweet, perfect star. Gods, you are so perfect – scars and all.”

Smiling, Devi snuggled up to Gale, as closely as she could manage, and lowered her head so she could kiss the orb brand across his heart. “First in my heart,” she whispered, feeling Gale drape his arm across her body so he could hold her closer to him. “My heart belongs to you, Gale – fully and utterly.” 

She felt Gale’s arm tighten across her as he gently nudged her head back so he could nuzzle her face. “And I promise to take the best care of what you’ve entrusted to me, my love,” he softly said. “Your heart will never break while it is in my hands.”

“And neither will yours,” Devi promised, setting her fingers across Gale’s heart. She saw his smile before he kissed her again – tenderly at first, then with more passion and lust in his touches as he gently pushed her onto her back, his thigh nudging her legs open for him again.

This, Devi thought as she kissed Gale back, running her fingers into his hair and arching her body into his as she tried to touch as much of him as she could, was home – in Gale’s arms, warm and safe, and loved in a way that she had never experienced before. She would follow this man into the lowest of the Hells if he had need of her, and some part of her heart knew that he would gladly follow her there too.

I am the luckiest girl alive, was her last coherent thought before she gave herself to the pleasures that Gale made her experience again.

[the-maddened-hatter]

another Hazbin/Helluva OC!

She's Peppermint's slightly younger half-sister who for a long stretch of time becomes obsessed with becoming a risen demon angel.

She is an Imp-Succubus hybrid, with the Imp half coming from her and Peppermint's father, Spitfyre. Spitfyre is injured severely by the crossfire of turf warring sinners post extermination, rendering him comatose, with Peppermint and Skye (then Sugar) suffering less profound but still severe injuries (Peppermint is rendered nearly deaf from horn damage and Skye's face is completely scarred).

From that point she becomes obsessed with rising above; from her station in the hierarchy, above the once human sinners who destroy without thought, from hell itself, believing it possible as she knows angels can fall.

She thinks if she can rise she'll be safe from the treacherous world she was born into, from the thoughtless cruelty and hopelessness that besets and persists Hellborns from outside and within, and perhaps others may even be able to follow her example and rise to safety

She sits atop the roof of the apartment building her family lives in (she will not speak to them when they come up to bring her food) and recites her best approximation of prayers she's able to before they make her lose her voice for the day, tries to strengthen her wings to be able to ascend (Succubus/Inccubus wings are really only meant for glides or short flights at the most), or, worst of all, tries to "purify" herself with greenfire candles. The accident only scarred her face.

Eventually Rosie, a close friend of Spitfyre, is able to counsel her and help her see that even if it were possible to reach angelic status in this way (which it almost certainly isn't given the entire history of Hellborns and meetings Charlie has had with angels), would it be worth denouncing every ounce of herself, her species, her family, her body, just to prove to those who have placed themselves in charge that she's "worthy" to be their follower?

Skye admits that she wants to prove that things can change and force people to no longer see Hellborns as disposable or unsaveable, and she breaks down admitting that she doesn't know what else she can possibly do to change Heaven's mind.

Rosie tells her that she's seen wonderful people condemned to hell simply for a mistake or their species, and "real stinkers" thrive in hell or basking in heaven for similar reasons. She isn't saving anyone just by hurting herself and her family.

It's slower progress than just the one conversation of course, but over time she does get her to think, then to stop, then to talk to her moms and her siblings again, and eventually to come back in from the roof.

She's ashamed of course facing her family, but ultimately they're just happy to have her back in relative safety with them again. Rosie admittedly helps smooth some things over, but things do settle back down over time.

She doesn't go back to being Sugar, it doesn't really fit her anymore, but Skye had been more of an act of cruelty on herself, a reminder of everything she felt she had to become.

But in the end she settles on something

------------

Bonus fun facts about Spitfyre:

Very good friends with Rosie as mentioned, and hung out in Cannibal Town so much that he picked up a bit of a 1920s American accent

His first wife (Peppermint's mother) unfortunately died in a bank robbery (he declines to clarify exactly how she died, meaning she may have been a robber, a clerk, or a patron.

He made Rosie Peppermint's (for lack of a better word) Godmother

Peppermint gets his name from a distinctive scar Spitfyre has on one eye

He's polyamorous, and is married to a Succubus (Starlight's bio mother), and a reptilian hellborn who he has a son with

Doesn't know the words for it, but he's pansexual and demisexual

He does recover from his coma eventually, though he's still quite disabled from the aftermath

Starlight never tells him about her stint of roof time, and he believes that her scars are from the accident

He doesn't overly question Starlight taking on a new name, he just thinks it's really cute that she and Peppermint match

Doesn't fully understand his kids but loves them all very very much <3

[kiwibirbkat]

The masculine urge to see blood welling up out of thin and uneven cuts along my right arm, wiping it off with one finger and watching it bleed again, staring at the contrast of the beautiful blood red against my pale skin before finally washing it off until the blood finally stops

[mad-hunts]

[ scars ] a gentle kiss on the partner's scar(s)-Violet!

all barton knew when he'd suddenly jolted up during the night was that he had had one hell of an upsetting dream. and that, even though it hadn't been about his bio father this time, that it had stung equally as much. barton nearly thought that he was stuck in the same vicious cycle that he'd been before in fact. a loop that consisted of the doctor feeling awful while he was with this person; but also feeling like he deserved every bad thing he'd done to him. that is, until one of them eventually deemed the other had crossed a line. then they would decide to break up. but unfortunately, like the tide, barton often came back to his ex eventually. and he cracked that up to the both of them being the 'same brand of fucked up.'

though barton hadn't contacted his ex-boyfriend in a long time now. all of the bad memories he'd given the doctor had stuck around in his head, however, and it even left barton feeling panicked that the person next to him in bed might be him. it was violet, though. someone who was considerably better than laurent. and who wouldn't brush barton off if he randomly (or perhaps not so randomly, in this case) got the urge to get close to her in an attempt to comfort himself. so, after barton let out a relieved albeit shaky sigh, he moved to embrace violet. he also seemed to have accidentally woke her up in the process. thus, when she posed a question to him about what was going on, barton tried to say something in response.

unexpectantly, what ended up coming out was something that sounded like a mix between a voice crack and a sob. the doctor tried really hard to keep his breathing level, but when he felt violet's lips tenderly kiss the scar he had on his shoulder, barton held onto her tighter. he spoke up then, ❝ i... i'm sorry, i just — i had a bad dream, ❞ something about saying it aloud, combined with the kiss she gave him, managed to break down the dam he had build inside of him then. a choked sob slipped through barton's lips as he sniffled. ❝ can i just stay here like this with you for a bit? ❞

[astral-catastrophe]

Anyway it’s so funny to me because if asked, I’d say I’ve got nothing to worry about , but when I think of my current situation happening to anyone else, it makes me sad

[the-entity-down-the-street]

My girl is already a demon, might as well Hazbin Hotelify her

FYI she uses she/her pronouns but in kind of a drag queen way

{Text:

Dread - Proud Sinner

23

Bi

Femboy

Prefers Hell: "Heaven has no true compassion for imperfect folks."

Died: 2020 via slit wrist

Human Life:

Freshly graduated Uni

Smut writer

Good person, in Hell for taking own life }

NOTE: Some important Lore on Dread is that she's the version of me that committed suicide, I'm not just adding that bit in for edginess, it's literally a part of my history. And since most religions send people to Hell for that, I thought I'd use the opportunity to comment on what I, a suicide survivor, think of it.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 27: you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding

Scars + "Let me see."

2512 Words; Undead Acrobat

TW for discussion of death, blood, brief panic attack

AO3 ver

Being dead was weird.

Well, maybe not dead dead, not anymore, but having been dead was weird. Dying itself wasn’t weird, just painful. Really painful. And Dion could scarcely remember what came between his death and his… was rearising the right word? Undying? Waking up?

It was after waking up in that abandoned hospital that things became weird.

Exhaustion was to be expected, Dion supposed. It was like he slept in too late too long, his body heavy with the desire to lie back down and sleep. Everything had been exhausting those first few days after waking up, to the point where he could barely talk for most of it. He had had to lean on Gisu when the Pelican first arrived, still unsteady on his own two feet—which sucked, and Dion hated that his balance was so screwed up. Or, well, he would have at the time, if he’d had the energy.

But even when he was able to walk on his own two feet without wanting to collapse, exhaustion still lingered. It’d leave him alone, most days, but not every day—

Case in point: today.

Dion groaned, his whole body as heavy as lead. He stared at the ceiling of his tent. His head felt like it was full of cotton. He didn’t want to move at all.

But it was like he was too tired to sleep, too—all he could do was lay there and wait. Wait for his body to stop feeling like one giant hole, wait for his parents to come to his tent entrance all concerned, wait for his body to remember that he wasn’t not a corpse anymore, and hadn’t been for a while.

Being not-quite-dead was weird. And annoying.

Footsteps came to a stop outside his tent. “Bambino?” His mother’s worry floated in through the closed flap. It was like acid down Dion’s throat.

(Her hand cupping his face when he first walked back into camp with Raz, disbelief in her eyes.

She had thought he was dead. And she wasn’t even wrong.)

Dion moved his arm for better leverage. A monumental effort. But it was better than letting his mother worry—

“‘M fine,” Dion mumbled, “Jus’ tired.” Really tired. Could-barely-sit-up tired. Absolutely exhausted. He pushed, trying to lift himself into something resembling sitting—he made it about halfway up before he fell back down onto his cot.

“If you’re sure…” God, Dion hated this. He wasn’t dead anymore! Everything should be fine! His mother continued talking. “Just try not to spend all day in there, okay?”

“Okay.” Dion managed. He’d… probably be able to get back up by dinner. Probably.

Or he might be dropping dead again, that was also a possibility. Just not one Dion wanted to consider.

His mother’s footsteps left, leaving Dion alone with his exhaustion. He stared at the ceiling of his tent, at the fabric separating him from the rest of the world.

He wanted to get up. He should get up.

But he couldn’t. Exhaustion pinned him down like so many hands holding onto him, dragging him down down down until he felt like one giant hole, like a void of nothingness that existed only to lay still and silent—

Dion huffed. Being undead was weird. And awful. It was better than being dead dead, sure, but—

He was almost too exhausted to be upset.

+=+=+=+=+

“Dion!” His father greeted, when Dion finally found the energy to drag himself out of his tent that evening. “Can you help me with the lights? One of the bulbs must have blown.” He gestured to the fairy lights, only a third of which were working.

“Okay.” Dion joined his dad in pulling out the dark bulbs and replacing them, one by one, trying to find the bad bulb. They sat there in silence for a little bit, just testing bulbs, putting the unblown ones back on the wire—

Dion unscrewed one of the unlit bulbs, and put in the replacement bulb. The whole string lit up—

Dion jolted, withdrawing his hand as though he’d burned it. His fingers pricked with the tiny shock he’d gotten, and Dion flinched back.

Electricity coursing up and down his veins, bright and hot, spasming through his muscles until he could barely even twitch—

The whole world threatened to press in and crush him. Dion couldn’t breathe.

His father’s hands were heavy on his shoulders, a grounding presence. “Breathe, son.” He urged.

Dion inhaled, and choked on it. He tried again, and managed to get as far as the exhale. He shuddered, his next breath coming out shakily, and kept trying.

Slowly, the panic ebbed away, until Dion was all that remained.

His father’s eyes traced the curve of the lichtenberg figure creeping up Dion’s neck, onto his jaw. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you like that.”

Dion shook his head. “It wasn’t you.” He said. “I just…” He huffed. “I don’t think I can help you with any electronics. Not anytime soon.”

His father nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need, Dion.”

Dion grimaced. His scar was just one big reminder of the fact that he had died, had been fried like a piece of chicken—

Breathe. Right. Right. It was okay. Dion was fine. He wasn’t going to be electrocuted again.

(If only he could make his body believe that.)

+=+=+=+=+

If there was one thing Dion would take to his grave (...his second grave?), it’d be the fact that he had died at all.

Gisu and Morris had agreed, for differing reasons. Gisu didn’t want necromancy to become known by the wider world. Morris didn’t want to talk about Dion dying at all. They were both good reasons to lie and say that Dion was just in a coma, sure—

But Dion’s reason was the most important, he felt. He didn’t want his family to ever know that he had died. Didn’t want them to worry, didn’t want them to stress. There were more important things to worry about, especially since Dion wasn’t dead anymore.

But wanting something did not make it come easy. Forget the bouts of lethargy leaving him barely able to move—Dion’s body kept finding new ways to make everyone around him worry. And to make his life harder. Unlife? Undeath. Ways to make his undeath harder.

Dion grimaced as he bent forwards, touching his toes with ease—and pain. His joints were killing him today—and his mother was making worried mutters over how he’d barely touched his breakfast. And he had tried—really!—to eat as much as possible, but the thought of more than a few bites made him want to lie down. Hopefully he’d be hungrier when dinner came. Maybe.

But he wasn’t dropping dead, so maybe everything was fine? Ugh, he couldn’t wait to see Gisu today. She’d probably have some kind of solution for all of this—she was smart like that. And even Morris would be nice to see, awful as he was—only because he knew about Dion’s undeath, of course. There was no other reason for Dion to want to go into that treehouse if Queepie wasn’t there.

Still, Dion did his stretches, ignoring his aching joints. Not like I can die twice. He didn’t know where that joke had come from, but it kept popping up in the back of his mind.

It probably didn’t mean anything, though.

+=+=+=+=+

The movie was going well.

It wasn’t one that Dion had seen before, some old film about a house and a haunted hill, or something—Dion had been paying more attention to the curl of Gisu’s hair and how pretty she was, wow, smart and pretty and somehow interested in him, how lucky was he?

But the movie was going well, and Gisu was sitting next to him, and in the low light of the TV screen—Lizzie had insisted on viewing the movie in the dark, even going so far as to put blackout curtains on the windows of the common room—she looked almost ethereal, like some gorgeous goddess who could do anything she wanted.

Dion supposed that maybe she kind of was—she had brought him back from the dead, afterall. He could sit by her side forever, really. Even if he hadn’t died and she hadn’t brought him back, he’d still want to be by her side, he was sure. It was a strange certainty, but one that Dion didn’t have it in him to doubt.

“So when does the movie get good?” Morris asked, his voice cutting through the gloom. Ugh, right. As much as Dion would have loved to be watching a movie alone with Gisu, Morris was there too. And Lizzie, who wasn’t half as annoying.

Dion stretched his hands out in front of him, cracking his knuckles. “Do you ever shut up?” He asked, leaning forwards to look past Lizzie to Morris.

“Do you?” Morris riposted.

Lizzie groaned. “If you two don’t stop—”

“Wait.” Gisu grabbed Dion’s hand. “Lizzie, turn the TV off.”

“I’m not pausing the movie just so you can make out in the dark.” Lizzie responded. Gisu snorted, flicking her free hand at the TV. A spark glowed on her fingers, then the screen went dark.

“Wh—hey!” Lizzie reached for the remote—

“Look!” Gisu yanked Dion’s hand, shoving it into Lizzie’s face. Dion yelped, but didn’t move to pull his hand from her grip. Her hand was rough, calloused thumb against his wrist—oh, Dion wanted to hold these hands forever, actually.

Lizzie stared for a few moments. “...huh.” She said.

Dion looked at his own hand. What was so “huh” about it—oh. Yeah, that was pretty huh.

Gisu let go of Dion’s hand. “Babe, crack your knuckles again.”

Wordlessly, Dion complied.

The glow grew a little bit brighter, outlining his knuckles in the dark.

“Huh.” Dion said. Wait, could he—he cracked his elbow, which started to glow, too. Okay, this was weird.

Morris laughed, shattering the silence. “Holy—oh my—you’re a glowstick!” He cackled. “Gisu, your boyfriend is a glowstick!” He continued to cackle, his breath coming out in drawn-out squeaks like a deflating balloon.

“Okay, why are Dion’s bones glowing?” Lizzie rounded on Gisu, ignoring Morris’ hysterics. “What did you do?”

Dion froze. He looked at Gisu, who was equally as caught.

“Experiments?” Gisu tried. Which wasn’t far from the truth—though Gisu was adamant that what she had been doing was merely “data collection” and not an actual experiment.

Lizzie started. “On the guy who was just in a coma?”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Dion interjected. He was ignored, Gisu frantically trying to explain the glowing joints without explaining the truth and Lizzie sounding more and more disappointed by the second.

And Morris was still laughing!

Dion leaned back on the couch with a sigh. Being undead was exhausting.

+=+=+=+=+

Slice.

Dion flinched, pulling the knife back to examine the cut he’d just made. Like an idiot. Great. Now he had to bandage his hand, clean the knife and cutting board, and delay lunch. Dion grumbled, muttering under his breath as he left to go grab a bandage. He stopped, his eyes catching on the blood welling up around the cut.

Dion squinted, moving his hand closer to the light. Okay, weird. Maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him.

Dion shrugged, and went back to grabbing a bandage. He’d go bug Morris about it later, probably—Gisu told him she’d be busy today, with her mentor (Otto something?), so that left Morris as the person Dion could go to.

Yeah. Dion found the bandages. Yeah, that’s what he’d do.

Just… not until after lunch.

+=+=+=+=+

Dion poked his head in through the open trapdoor. “Hey, asshole.”

Morris didn’t turn around to face him, focused on going through the new records he’d gotten his hands on, humming a tune that Dion didn’t know.

Dion groaned. “I know you can hear me!” Morris’ headphones were nowhere to be found, probably back in his dorm. “Morris!” He started to haul himself up into the treehouse proper.

“There’s no need to yell.” Morris chided. Dion could feel the smug grin on his face.

“Whatever.” Dion hauled himself all the way up. “You’re not busy, right?”

“Super busy.” Morris said dryly. “You’ll have to bother Gisu.” He looked at Dion long enough for Dion to see his stupid smirk, then went back to his records. “So what’d you break this time?”

Dion exhaled slowly. Right. It was just a question. And he knew Morris would listen, for all that he put on a facade saying otherwise.

Dion flicked his eyes up towards the ceiling, following the grain of the wood. “Blood’s not supposed to sparkle, right?” Dion was pretty sure of that. He’d seen blood before. It had never sparkled. Right?

Dion glanced over at Morris, who was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

Dion looked back at the ceiling, his face heating up. Yeah, it was a stupid question, anyway—

“What.” It wasn’t quite a question and wasn’t quite a statement—more just a noise, really, one that perfectly matched the dumbfounded look on Morris’ face.

Dion’s face flushed. He started to bounce back and forth on the balls of his feet, nervous energy jittering in all of his limbs. “Well, I was helping chop celery for lunch today, right? And I accidentally cut myself,” He held out his bandaged hand, unable to look Morris in the eyes, “And—maybe I was just seeing things, or it was a trick of the light, but—” He stopped, finally looking Morris in the eyes. “My blood. It was glittery.” Like the glitter glue markers Mirtala had gotten as a gift last year, and then proceeded to glitter-fy her favorite stuffed animals with.

Morris stared at Dion for a long moment. Then—

“You’re going to take off that bandage and it’s going to already be healed, isn’t it?” Morris sounded more exasperated than anything else.

Oh, yeah. “Probably.” Dion realized. He was wondering why he’d been hungrier than normal at lunch today. Not quite enough for seconds, but he still ended up eating more than he usually did.

Morris brought his hand to his temple, pinching the bridge of his nose. “First the glowstick joints, now this.” He mumbled. “And why’d you come to me?”

Dion shrugged. “Gisu said she’d be busy, today.” He explained. He didn't exactly mean to make it sound like Morris was second-best, but then again, he was being compared to Gisu. It was kind of impossible not to imply preference.

“Right.” Morris turned back to his records. “Why are we friends, again?”

“Because you just can’t get rid of me.” Dion responded automatically, all of his earlier embarrassment draining away in favor of a cocky grin. “And because I’m just that great to be around.”

“Great?” Morris snorted. “You’re awful.” he complained. But he was smiling.

“You’re worse.” Dion shot back, grinning anyway.

Yeah, being undead was weird. It was exhausting, and sometimes his joints ached in ways Dion didn’t know were possible—

But he wasn’t completely alone, at least. And that was good enough for him.

[superbadgrrl]

As I lie here after an amazing weekend, I think of what could have been, and how hurt I still feel in silence because of “what could have been, would’ve been”.

 I feel personally touched by Carmella’s post a few days ago of all her worries during their current pregnancy… I couldn’t imagine the fear they felt, but I celebrate their rainbow baby 💕 all I know is how I felt finding out and being pregnant then suddenly feeling like no one was home anymore, was one of the most absolutely terrible feelings out there. 

We were so convinced we were having twins because we were the same size as a YouTuber who had them... however, it was a fibroid the size of a cantaloupe accompanying our baby, which caused a miscarriage. I had it removed for our future pregnancies, the scars reminding me every day of what happened. 

I like to believe this baby made me aware of the issue that would have caused complications with them and any future babies had I not removed it, and somehow I mentally form some sort of idea of them being some blessing in disguise that was here for a short time for its future siblings that’d be here for a long time.

I also want to extend a thank you to those who reached out and shared their experiences and I was unable to respond because I felt so personally touched by all the kind words you all sent and shared, just mentally I wasn’t and still not there to connect with the matter, and I’m sorry for feeling that way just like I feel sorry for myself for somehow feeling like this is all my fault, even when I know it is not.

[nightfallsystem-moved]

i lose a tiny bit of my soul everytime i have to tw my own body

[daggersandarrows]

This is probably going to sound so weird but sometimes I mentally run over each of the scars on my body and repeat to myself the name of the animal who put them there. Bumble, Turkey, Sunny, Lotus, Khoshekh. The skin that was there when they broke it might be long gone but my body remembers them anyway.

[m0tel6mxzzy]

tw sh ment //

tbh if i had the option i’d get cute little hello kitty and cinnamoroll tattoos over my healed scars bc i’m very done and removed from that old part of my life and i’d like something different to think about. just small little minimal ones. the person i was from 12-17 and the person i am now are completely different ppl and i’d like to enter my healing era something something be soft but take no shit such n such

[mythica0]

We’re in this together

Chapter summary: Tello and Raphie are starting to remember their time in the afterlife, and the teens get curious about certain scars. (Not in that order)

A/N: wohoo update time! I’m getting ideas for plot slowly but surely, but mostly this is a slice of life fic incase you couldn’t tell. (Which means minimal angst! :D) any questions about the AU? Ask!

TW: swearing, mention of past self harm and other forms of violence. Discussion of scars(including SH)

Chapter 4: Discussions of Memories long.. future?

After a long cry with his dad, Nardo emerged from the medbay with a newly wrapped stump.

Angelo floated over to the two of them. “Oh thank pizza supreme I don’t have to look at a bare stump anymore.”

Nardo rolled his eyes, but there was still a fondness behind them. “Yeah, yeah, you happy?”

Angelo makes a noise of confirmation and nods.

While the rest of the table talk, Tello looks at Raphie.

“Have you been getting… memories?” He whispers. He doesn’t want to draw attention.

Raphie nods. “Yeah. I don’t know how, we were taken from before we…” he clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Tello furrows his still drawn-on brows in thought. “It is strange… do you think Karai has something to do with it?”

“Gram-Gram? Maybe… hmm. We should discuss this later, you know.. alone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They stop their whispered conversation just as the attention of the group turns back to the table.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking! of course Mikey wouldn’t-,Tello, Raphie, were you even paying attention?” Angelo calls to them from their loud conversation.

“Oh, uh- yes?” Tello lies, very badly. He never got over his inability to lie well.

Raphie just rolls his eyes. “No, we were talking to eachother, what’s up?”

“I was wondering whether or not Mikey could float yet, cause I learned to at about that age, but then I realized how dumb that was! I was about to tell the story of when I first flew!”

“Wasn’t that the day you got the scar on your arm? The non-burn scar, obviously.” Tello questions, brow raised.

“Mm-hmm. The kids wanted to know about the scars anyways!”

“Alright, we’re coming.”

For the next hour, the four of them told tales of their scars.

Angelo got his big gash in his arm from trying to fly and falling down, scraping his arm on metal. That was so long ago and yet the scar hadn’t faded.

Nardo lost his arm in an incident with a Krang hound. He got bit just above the elbow, and it had to be amputated lest he get infected. He also had several other scars from battle, claw marks, mostly.

Tello had lost his vocal cords in a collapsing building. A piece of debris fell on his windpipe and vocal cords, causing him to have to make himself a technological copy. He had to communicate in entirely sign language until they were done, and also had problems breathing for months.

Raphie’s black eye was a whole…other thing. He didn’t know exactly how it happened, but the Krang did something to him on a mission one day, and then his pupil grew larger until it took up his whole eye. That eye can see in the dark very well, but can’t handle bright light at all, so often during the day Raphie will wear an eyepatch to keep the brightness at bay. He also had a long scar along his tail from where a Krang hound had dragged him, a chip in his shell from a strong impact. And…. Tiny thin scars littered his arms.

Donnie recognized them immediately. “Those are-“

“Self harm scars, yeah.” Raphie spoke and smiled, bittersweet.

“…I started to feel a lot of guilt, anger and sadness about five years into the apocalypse. I felt as though I could never protect my brothers, and all of those negative emotions made me turn to a.. less than healthy coping mechanism.” His words were hesitant, but not sad or fearful .

“I ended up cutting my arms almost every night for two years before Nardo caught me in the act one night. He and the others helped me overcome that obstacle in my life, and now I wear my scars proudly as a way to show how strong I was to overcome it, and as a reminder that even the strongest of people need help sometimes.”

Raph spoke up. “That um- that was very brave of you, bigger me.” His words had some implications that Raphie picked up on. He had some of the thoughts at about Raph’s age, after all. “Hey, don’t worry big man. Your family is here to help you, you will never need to resort to that. Come talk to someone if you need to, okay?”

Raph nods, “t-thanks.”

A tense silence filled the air for a moment, but it wasn’t long before Mikey silently stood, walked over to Raphie and Raph, and pulled them into a huge group hug.

Raphie smiled as him and his younger version were pulled together by Mikey’s tiny form, followed by the rest of the crew gathering around the two snapping turtles.

They stayed like that for a while, then slowly pulled away one by one.

After that, everyone separated off to their own spaces to relax, however, Donnie and Raphie both went into the kitchen to have a private conversation.

“Soooo,” Tello draws out the word, “we have confirmed that both of us are getting memories from the spiritual plane.”

“Yup. I definitely remember looking over our brothers and Casey. And all the emotions I felt during that time.”

“Yeah… I remember seeing you up there, once I joined you.”

Raphie nods again. “It’s… strange. I don’t remember my actual death but I remember everything after it.”

“The main question is still, why. Why are we getting these memories if the Angelo’s portals took us from before our death. Time line shit is just wild.”

“You said it.” A pause, then a smile.

“Do you remember the time when we watched Casey completely wreck Kraang prime.”

Tello breathed out a chuckle, “fuhuckin, yeaha. He was all like: ‘come here you rotten strawberry lookin motherfucker!’”

Raphie smiled more, “and then my response was-“

“Language!” Both turtles replied in sync, before bursting out into laughter.

Through his laughs, Tello tried to speak, “ehe-Ehevehen thohohough yo- yohou knehew he cohohou- cohohouodnt hehear yohou!” Sending them both into further hilarity.

After a minute the two calmed down.

“Woo, man,” Raphie spoke, wiping a forming tear from his eye, “that was a day.”

“You bet.”

Maybe they would be fine. All of them. Together.

—————————————————

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[fountainpenguin]

I am so obsessed with the gorgeous worldbuilding in "Time Is Ticking: Life With the Clockers" because the comedically straight line delivery of "Potion of Abortion" and "stack of 100-diamond bills" left me DEAD on the floor and I will NEVER recover slkdfj

fav mcyt fic thing is when the setting is taken mostly realistically but then they throw in an extremely minecraft detail like a bucket of milk instant curing a hangover or a character putting down a whole block of wood to sit on while they talk