bakerstreet | Love those scars

Love those scars

Love Your Scars

Despite the romanticism surrounding the emotion, it can be difficult to be loved completely — not just the beautiful parts of us, but also the sad parts, the injured parts, the hidden and less-than-pleasant parts. There are marks on us, both physical and mental, that we'd often rather forget. The mental ones can just be easier to hide. As for physical scars, they can be off of our minds some of the time, but that's exceedingly hard to do in more intimate, close moments.

Whether it's to your dismay or otherwise, your partner is not looking away and ignoring your scars. To the contrary, they're providing attention in a way most heavily associated with tenderness: kissing. It may be an accidental slip-off target, or they may be trying to show you that what you've done and who you've been don't matter to them now.

Does the gesture touch you? Make the walls come up once again because of the memories that are dredged from somewhere you'd rather no-go? A mixture of both?

The wound has long closed, yet the pains remain; these days, however, there's someone who may be willing to help you bear it.

Reply with the usual: canon, character, preferences, et al. You may also want to say if you're down for smut or not, since it's not a given.
Be sure to include what side you'd like your character to play. Mention if you can do both the kisser and the kissed.
Also, feel free to talk about your character's scars.
Reply to others.

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[ assumed CR preferred for anyone wanting to soothe dain's scarring, most of which look like sword or arrow punctures that've healed over his left arm, some of his back, and his left torso. his corruption covers half his face, his right pectoral, shoulder, neck, and most of his right leg. fanart ref.

more than happy to roll with crosscanon and OCs. ]

Edited 2023-08-23 11:43 (UTC)

( Would you be up for a Kaveh soothing his scars? )

[ absolutely!

immediately your comment had my brain going in circles thinking about dain having visited sumeru more than once (esp since we know he was involved in the shit w/ the pari) and kaveh innocently meeting him those times in different points of his life, and maybe noticing he never aged... but!! we don't have to use that premise at all!! ]

( Slams fist. I can work that in somehow, especially if they had run ins when Kaveh was still in the Akademiya. I’d imagine they probably ended up at the tavern a few times since they both like to drink. Very innocent. It gives me Sandman meeting once every 100 years except maybe 5 years. Lmao. )

[ yeah! i imagine all that means that when pre- and post-caribert dain is staying in sumeru for a longer... while... and he eventually sees kaveh again... y'know, there's enough of a rapport that sudden pain when his Void parts act up could have kaveh taking care of him? (and dain letting him take care of him?) ]

[ Let me know if this is ok! ]

Relax. Do tell if I shouldn’t touch certain areas, phantom pains are no laughing matter.

( The Port Ormos bathhouse is an exquisite establishment for this type of task. It was Kaveh’s idea after noting how strained Dainsleif seemed to be back in the tavern. He worried he wouldn’t show up this time! There are times Kaveh wonders if their routine will reach an end, or times Kaveh hears impending doom in his voice. Perhaps that is an angle he can relate to. Not that he will truly understand what he has gone through.

What he doesn’t expect is how much damage his body has acquired over time when he divests of his coat.

His flesh is utterly, irreparably marred. He’s a little surprised he even agreed to this method of alleviating, Dainsleif is very reserved. Scarred as he might be, Kaveh can’t help but notice the tautness of his flesh, like no time has passed at all. He keeps this in mind to let it fester while he traces every line like a study, meticulous and caring.

Who’s to say Dainsleif has ever received this kind of treatment before. Kaveh leans on his giving nature, aiming only to please. He pauses so he can reapply the Padisarah essence oil suited for this type of massage, he rubs his hands together with it and then lathers the marks decorating his arm .)

H-How does that feel?

[ Quietly, he mutters, ] Strange.

[ Dainsleif's blasé response is less a jab at Kaveh and more the nature of what he becomes when he's in pain like this. Most days, divesting himself of the weight of his armour is enough to alleviate the pain that gathers in his (too old, too stretched thin, too should-be-dust-and-isn't) body, but his recent return to Chlothar Alberich's Sumerian home had exposed him to too much Voidal energy. The Abyss clings to him, chokes him, makes it ache on his corrupted right side, and the slight throb in the blue glow on his flesh likely gives it away.

He understands, of course, why Kaveh wouldn't touch his right side. Frankly, if it were anywhere but on his own body, Dainsleif wouldn't touch it either. But the way his hands soothe over the marks littering his plain, physical flesh are far away compared to the way the Abyss creeps into his blood.

Dainsleif exhales, shutting his eyes against the pain. He couldn't possibly ask Kaveh to touch him where it really hurts, not when that part of his body is so ugly.

He only belatedly thinks to comfort Kaveh some, and so he says, ] But it isn't a terrible strange. Just... different.

I haven't felt hands on my skin in a long time.

Oh...
( Kaveh is aware from past conversations how tactful Dainsleif is at protecting certain topics from making it to the surface. Yet knowing so little about him never seemed to bother him. The mystery surrounding him became a basis of his appeal, and he can hold other conversations. Kaveh thinks he would be a fitting scholar if he had attended the Akademiya.

Yet seeing him like this makes it painfully difficult to keep all his thoughts to himself. He keeps glancing over at his other arm. The sheen of it, and how it blends into his shape, or how it digs underneath his pale skin. He can't imagine it being comfortable, but who's he to judge? He has never seen anyone like this, not in the flesh and not in any Akademiya journal.

His hands feel it when he exhales, treading down beneath his shoulder blade and circling the scars that appear to be the results of arrowheads. Blood rushes in to fill them once again when he stops adding pressure, turning them back to their original pink. He inches every so steadily over his spine, up to his neck, and he pauses. Perhaps this is a good segue way: )

How long?

Long.

[ But that's not a very good answer, Dainsleif realises a moment too late. ]

I... was still in school. [ Training would be the proper term, but Kaveh has yet to know that he was a knight in the most fairy tale way. He's not sure he has the constitution to talk of the Eclipse Dynasty with the Abyss so passionately licking at his heels, though, and so he steels his tongue. ] It was before all these scars, at least.

[ Before everything.

With Kaveh's hand ghosting his neck, old fears and worries bubble up-- a reminder of his human days, perhaps, however useless it may be. That irrational fear that Kaveh could snap his neck like this is ill-fitting, not just because Kaveh's so full of goodness (the Light of Kshahrewar, they call him), but also because death only touches him for a few hours before life drags him back in by the ankles.

Living hurts more than dying. Dainsleif's right side is on fire. ]

You're curious. [ He turns his head some, just enough to glance up at Kaveh from over his shoulder. There's a look in his eye, one that Dainsleif supposes he should have expected the moment Kaveh saw what lay beneath his armour. What he doesn't expect is the blatant lack of disgust in there. ] ...you don't want old battle stories, do you?

( Kaveh is normally the one who goes off on personal tangents and his troubles, especially when he's a drink and a half into a night. He doesn't have the first clue that he's simply a spec of dust in Dainsleif's life, he's a blink of an eye, bound to his mortality and his cruel reality, and Dainsleif might outlive him two or three or four times over. Kaveh would agree with him: living is painful.

Perhaps they both subconsciously acknowledge their hollowness.

Listening to Dainsleif for a change naturally makes Kaveh curious. His discomfort must have been inexorable. He will never replace the hands of the past, but he resumes working the oil soothingly over the protruding skin. One could argue Kaveh's hands are designed for this kind of service. They have a certain give to them after years of working on projects and miniature prototypes.

He senses a depth in his voice that somehow makes Kaveh feel bad for asking and rousing his memory. He swallows his regret, momentarily startled when Dainsleif glances back at him. Surely, he didn’t notice how his brows were creasing with uncertainty and sadness. )

A-Ah, well, yes. I'd like that.

( He clears his throat and his eyes shift at the burning curse, and then his fingers, too. They sprawl across his shoulder, pressing lightly where skin meets blue. Contrary to how Dainsleif views himself, Kaveh isn’t put off by it. Quite the opposite. )

You’ll be surprised to know that I’m not queasy, I’ve seen my fair share of battles. The forest is a dangerous place, after all. Ah, Dain, me touching here. . . Is that alright?

[ Stars above, if it'd felt like his right side was on fire before, the brush of Kaveh's fingers over his corruption are a startlingly cool balm. Despite himself, Dainsleif's mouth opens, a breath he didn't know he was holding carefully slipping out.

Immediately, he feels selfish-- having never been touched by another there means he isn't sure what might happen to Kaveh at all. The last thing he wants is for his curse to take hold of anyone innocent, but for it to take Kaveh...

The thought of him eroding, of all those times he's met Kaveh in Lambad's Tavern suddenly dissolving, upsets Dainsleif more than he's willing to consider. ]

Does touching it make you feel... [ Dainsleif hesitates. It's not often that he struggles to find the right word, not when everything about him is so carefully chosen, but to suddenly share such an isolating sensation is beyond his vocabulary. ] Unwell?

[ And then, to elaborate: ] I don't know if it's contagious.

[ If Kaveh feels sick-- if he feels like every inch of his body is tired, like every muscle is being ripped apart sinewy line by sinewy line and his nerves are being fried alive-- then it isn't "all right" at all. ]

( If Dainsleif is defined by his curse then Kaveh should have long been inflicted by it. He is the curse. Still, what creeps onto Kaveh's features is that of terror. He even inches himself on his knees so he can get a better look at his face. )

What? No, no, no. I feel fine, I just wasn't sure if you were okay with it.

( Kaveh wouldn't put himself before him. His comfort means everything to him. It must have taken courage on his part to willingly undress his right side and expose himself like this. Whether it is contagious or not doesn't seem to be at the forefront of Kaveh's worries, but he keeps the possibility in mind. What is it, anyway?

He positions himself behind him again, glad to have corrected any wrongs. He sighs in delight and carefully dabs the oil over different texture. It feels like polished skin, taut enough to contrast the tenderness of the rest of him, yet malleable enough to take the shape of his muscles. Amurta scholars might be intrigued by this biological composition. )

. . . I wasn't sure if it hurt you. I've never seen anything like it, is all.

You don't have to tell me about your battle stories if you don't want to. I'm fine talking about anything else you might like. Anything new with your travels?

( He palms over the curve of his shoulder steadily, still uncertain how this might feel for him, or if he feels at all. It can be hard to tell when it comes to Dainsleif.

[ So used to seeing the Abyss swallow anyone who tries to make contact with it, it's relieving to know his own body doesn't create the same conundrum. Dainsleif doesn't relax immediately, not when he'd been so on-guard beforehand, but his muscles do gradually loosen as he wills himself to settle down. For his efforts, and in his quiet relief, he settles even further than he had before Kaveh touched the corruption. ]

You didn't hurt me, Kaveh.

[ If nothing else, it's all faraway in the most bizarre sense. The pressure of Kaveh's touch is there, and the coolness of his flesh is stark against what feels like searing heat in Dainsleif's right side, but at the same time it's like they aren't skin to skin at all.

He imagines that's just part of what it is to be dead-but-not-- to have a body that's meant to be dust. But some foreign sentiment settles in his chest at the fact that Kaveh continues to touch him at all (and beneath his fingertips, the cracks of glowing blue in Dainsleif's flesh seem to brighten each time Kaveh sweeps his touch over them).

His eyes shut, and Kaveh's question goes unanswered as he instead poses: ] What battles have you seen in the forest?

Tell me about the easiest one.

And then the hardest.

( There is something greater than words laced in how they have learned to communicate. Kaveh reads the way his shoulders settle, how he’s able to inhale deeper breaths under his touch. Between the gaps of everything he’s unaware of, he has seen this behavior before. In the mirror, in others.

He applies an understanding squeeze over his arm, watching as forgotten universes stare back at him. He’s dying to ask about it, especially after his foretold anxiety surrounding the phenomena. His connection to Dainsleif is much how it feels touching him here— still vastly distant no matter how close they become.

The deflection might have worked on someone else, but not Kaveh. He’s not shy about pointing it out with a playful huff. )

You’re going to leave me hanging about your travels? Hmph.

Well. The easiest ones are fungi. I feel bad when they leave me no choice but to knock them out of my way, they always travel in little groups like families. If only they weren’t so dangerous.

( His fingers tread lower towards his forearm, and he sits next to him so he can better tend to what is left of his arm. Both thumbs press gently around it, tracing every star. )

Then there was a time I ran into some Eremite squabble. You’ve met them, no? They wield these huge knives, and they’re pretty relentless if you run into them outside the protection of the city. I do feel bad for desert dwellers, hopefully they’ll be given more chances once we build more schools.

Anyway, I have gotten some stitches, on my back. And my legs. If they can get past Mehrak, I’m in trouble, haha.

[ It's almost maddening, the feel of Kaveh's touch on his not-skin. Dainsleif doesn't think himself starved of contact, but the act almost seems to affirm his own reality. If a tree falls in a forest, and no-one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? if a man became a monster, and no-one is there to witness it, is he truly there at all?

Living for centuries and slowly losing his mind all the while has made it difficult to discern between memories, imaginations, and truths. This, though-- the way that Kaveh speaks to him, so casual like they're long friends; the way that Kaveh touches him, so gentle over his body he'd seem like a lover if Dainsleif weren't so broken-- is something he could never picture on his own.

As Kaveh's touch travels down his right arm, putting the proper amount of pressure on certain spots reveals marks not unlike the aged cuts on his left. They're coloured a bright blue like the rest of the cracks along Dainsleif's arm, but don't glow with nearly as much intensity. However ethereal his body may be, the difference between scars and wounds is universal: what healed over in the days before Dainsleif was cursed stopped hurting an eternity ago, but his infection is as fresh as the day Celestia had smote him. ]

You need training, Kaveh. [ It's the first thing he's spoken since Kaveh's finished his anecdote, blunt as ever in wording. But to an ear accustomed to Dainsleif's mannerisms, his tone also comes out softer.

His confession is even quieter: ] ...it was one of my responsibilities, long ago. Training warriors.

Some of those scars you see on my forearm [ they're plentiful, light, and quite short ] come from blocking training blades. Dull, yes, but still capable of cutting.

Edited (holy shit last edit for sure) 2023-08-26 18:36 (UTC)

( He shouldn't think of what could have been so traumatic for Dainsleif as beautiful. Kaveh's gestures and touch encompass idealistic ardor, it is blinding, tragic, and counterproductive. He has been told so countless times. Still, what others might perceive as impractical might just suffice as light bright enough for lost souls to cling to.

His gaze softens on Dainsleif's faded lacerations and their stories. His fingertips feather their way over his hand. He turns it over curiously, quietly looking up at him and savoring the bits of information he's allowing to part ways from. Based on how many times they've met, they probably can amount to no more than a week. Yet every day with him feels like an eternity, always pleasant and memorable. It is plenty of time for Kaveh to realize the care in his voice if one can call it that. It makes him smile.

Throughout the years, Kaveh sometimes thinks of him. Especially when the night sky is spectacularly clear. )

Hm. Then based on that, it is only natural that you try to teach me a few things, no?
I can't promise that I'll be the best student. I do tire so easily, but I can try my best with you.

I promise I won't give you any more scars to wear, though.

But this is just an idea, you don't have to bother with me if you don't want to. I wouldn't want to take away time from, well, from your long travels. I'm happy just drinking all night long with you.

( He looks back down, holding his hand, tracing the thickness of his curse decorating every finger. )

{{She has all sorts of small scars from combat, including on her face. Her back is a web of old white scars from being flogged with a knaut. She also has a shiny new scar that runs from hip-bone to navel.}}

Edited 2023-08-23 14:21 (UTC)

(Some general info.)

[ he has a lot. please see journal for info/prefs. i'd prefer no assumed cr unless we discuss first. ]

[Libra's not nearly as scarred as the Sinners he cares for, but he certainly has quite a few both on the physical and emotional spectrum. There are some burn scars on his hands, and some bullet scars on his torso, and he can be the kisser or the kissed.]

(M/M, 18+ for shipping, OTA for platonic. Dion's got surprisingly few ordinary scars, but his right arm is slowly turning to stone in parts so...there's that.)

[ info in journal, canon and cross welcome. happy to discuss cr. edelgard has scars from being experimented on as a child but either role is fine - I like this trope even more when both characters are scarred. characters ~20+ preferred. ]

[ m/m for shipping. (his only scar is from self-harm, so here's a warning for that.) ]

(various scars but most prominent in the loss of her left eye from being shot. ota but more pref for m/f shipping.)

[ she's not exactly fluffy but why not a little off-script tenderness. probably has scars but they're not obvious and I doubt they bother her so this'll be better if your character has more eye-catching or meaningful scars. not aiming for smut but also not opposed if the chemistry's good. 21+ ]

[ Could be fun to have them showin' off their scars, maybe swappin' stories trying to one-up the other? A momentary reprieve for two battle-hungry lunatics. ]

[ that sounds perfect! maybe they initially got to this point because some kind of brawl broke out in their vicinity and they both couldn't help getting involved? ]

[ ooc: Aces! I like the way you think. ]

[ The battle, brief in its duration, had drawn to a close. Bodies littered the surrounding area, and spatters of sanguine decorated the walls.

Of the two remaining combatants was Tartaglia, Eleventh of the Harbingers. He sat with his back pressed against the wall, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. ]

Not bad, not bad. You know how to handle yourself, comrade.

[ Admiration, possibly awe, was interweaved into the young man's praise. His words were cut short as he winced, noticing the many, many lacerations spread vastly across the entirety of his physique. ]

Not much of a fight if you don't get to take home a few cuts and bruises, right?

[ They may not have started this brawl but the two of them did an excellent job of finishing it, in her opinion. Her answering laugh verges on breathless. ]

You're not so bad yourself.

[ As she steps closer, her eyes snag on a rip in her right sleeve. It's the rip and not the bleeding forearm visible beneath it that makes her sigh - this is one of her favorite coats. What a shame.

But her eyes return to him after a moment, a small smile on her face as she tugs the coat off. ]

Spoken like someone who has more than just a few cuts and bruises. Need a hand?

[ Her words left him with a single raised brow. An unexpected request from the Stellaron Hunter, but not one he had the luxury of turning down. He always did seem to make more of a mess when it came to dealing with his own injuries.]

If it's not a bother, yeah. Could probably use it.

[ He forces himself to sit forward, gloved palm clutched tightly around his chest and stomach region, where he seemed to have sustained the bulk of the wounds ]

Not going to add any more on me, are you?

[ A light jest followed by yet another strained wince. ]

It just so happens that I have the time.

[ Settling on one knee beside him, she reaches into the cuff of one boot and pulls out a tiny single-use healing spray, barely bigger than her forefinger. Her other hand gently but firmly guides his hand away from his torso so she can see what she's working with.

She clicks her tongue. ]

One of them had a good blade. Don't worry, I'm on my best behavior.

[ At the moment. Quickly pushing up her torn and bloodied sleeve, she starts to peel back some of the blood-stained fabric around the worst of his wounds, one fingertip tapping an older, paler scar. ]

That one must have been unpleasant at the time.

Sure was, hah. Guess that's what I get for having my back turned on the enemy.

[ The scar was a faded remnant of his time spent in the abyss when he was younger, more inexperienced. He had seen many horrors during his time in the dark, combatting only the most heinous of creatures. As a result, he emerged stronger, a perfectly forged tool of destruction. ]

Near-fatal injuries are a good reminder not to make the same mistake twice. Not that you might have that luxury anyway.

[ He winced as she peeled away the damp articles of clothing, but pain was a comfort to a man who'd only ever known bloodshed and war. And there were worse ways to endure pain than at the hands of such a pretty face. The lighting in this hallway really did her justice, complimenting her features quite splendidly. Though, of course, he'd refrain from staring for too long, lest she catch on. ]

[ She lets out a little hum of agreement. ]

A brush with death can make a good learning experience.

[ Maybe less so for someone like her, someone from Pteruges-V. She's heard the phrase "a healthy fear" before and that's what she assumes applies here but an assumption is all it is. She lacks a true understanding.

She tugs the small cap off the healing spray. ]

Lucky for you, none of these are anywhere near fatal. This may sting-- [ It's not much of a warning because only a second later she starts spraying a thin coating over the fresh lacerations. The deeper a wound the more the spray stings, in her experience, but it's a sting she likes. ] --but the skin should knit nicely over the next few minutes.

[ His attention doesn't go unnoticed but she sticks to the task at hand for the moment. ]

Do you always hop into brawls that break out nearby?

[ And sting it most certainly did. More so thanks to the vast majority of his injuries being deeper than Tartaglia cared to admit. He jolted forward on base instinct as he felt the pain resonate throughout his physique, securing a hand around her wrist. ]

Sorry, force of habit, I guess. Don't think my body's really given me a chance to relax all that much yet.

[ He winced as the spray did its thing, all while maintaining his hold on Kafka -- maybe it brought him some form of relief? Though, more likely he just wanted access to a part of her that would be easy to break if she tried anything stupid. ]

Not as often as you might think. If a brawl looks interesting, then I'll gladly step into the fray. But it would be silly to waste blood and sweat on opponents that weren't worth my time.

[ Another glance cast in her direction, but this time he held it. This woman and her prowess in combat had piqued his interest. And the blood spatters on her face really did help in bringing out the color in her eyes. ]

[Clive has no shortage of scars to behold and they represent a lot of what he's endured and been through. Although he's a shoo-in for the one with scars, he could easily be inclined to caring for another's scars.

Canon, cross-canon, and AU are all welcome. Can avoid spoilers for anyone requesting it.]

[Covered in scars, most notable the repeated stab wounds on his stomach. Smut ok.]

[ castmates and cross-canon are fine, assumed CR preferred.
Childe gets in fights a lot so scars are a given, but he could definitely be into someone else's scars. or both at once idk

smut or not is fine with me. ]

Edited 2023-08-24 13:50 (UTC)

[ Not that many scars... except for the big purple-blue glowing one in the middle of his chest, with the skin turned to stone around it... ]

ooc: ... he's a mess of scars. One arm altogether missing, too.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Love those scars

dainsleif ( genshin impact ) OTA

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it's perfect ;_; kaveh is an angel

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Xiao Xingchen | The Untamed | M/M

Eligre, the Lady Crow || flexible high fantasy OC || OTA

serval landau | hsr

Neuvillette | Genshin Impact

Geralt | The Witcher Netflix | OTA

Asaeda Chiaki / KotE OC

kaedehara kazuha . genshin impact . m/f

bucky barnes ( mcu )

Vander | Arcane | OTA

Libra Sforza (MBCC Chief) | Path to Nowhere | M/F | OTA for platonic things

Dion Lesage - FFXVI

tighnari | genshin impact | ota

edelgard von hresvelg | fire emblem: three houses/hopes

Tsuzuki Asato | Yami no Matsuei

integra hellsing / hellsing (post-series)

kafka | honkai: star rail

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sorry for the wait!

waiting is my speciality!

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Clive Rosfield | Final Fantasy XVI | M/F

Blackbeard | Our Flag Means Death | M/M

Childe | Genshin Impact | m/m

joshua rosfield | ffxvi

Vash | Trigun Stampede

fushiguro megumi ✴ jujutsu kaisen ✴ m/m