Deku Arm Scars Novels & Stories

Shе’ѕ wеаrіng аn armband of ѕоrtѕ tо hide thе dаmаgе, but it hаѕ ѕlірреd down аnd еxроѕеѕ еvеrу hоlе that’s been mаdе in hеr skin оvеr the lаѕt two weeks. Thеrе’ѕ a lumр rіght іn the crook оf hеr fоrеаrm. It’ѕ in the space whеrе a needle hаѕ made іt mark tоо оftеn. It’ѕ wееріng pus. Mу frіеnd isn’t just wаѕtеd, she’s sick.

As he moved, the moonlight caught the skin of his back. Amora’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Oscar in work shirts and t-shirts, but she had never seen him bare-backed. Crisscrossing across his broad, muscular shoulders and running all the way down his spine were thick, pale, jagged scars. They weren't the clean marks left by a wolf’s claws during a fair fight. These were deep, twisted tracks—the kind left by silver-tipped whips or heavy, electrified batons. Without thinking, driven by a healer’s instinct she had inherited from her father, Amora reached out. Her fingertips softly brushed against the edge of a thick scar near his shoulder blade.

Kate said and Dede frowned. "What do you mean?" Dede asked. "I don't mean give your body to men. What I mean is you can easily get the attention of people. You will need that since you are not a citizen of this state. Life will be difficult," Kate said. "You have beautiful skin, don't mess it up," she said staring at Dede's light bronze skin tone. "This will help with the scar once it heals," she said offering her an anointment

He was pissed that Neil had taken off without guards and still had yet to return, and he was taking it out on me. I groaned and picked the knife up again. By midday, my skin was covered in nicks, bruises, and shallow cuts. My arms ached from the strain, my injured hand trembling every time I tried to grip the knife. Back home, marks like these would’ve been unacceptable—models weren’t supposed to have scars, or any imperfections, really, except for the exciting ones like vitiligo or heterochromia. The thought of permanent scarring twisted my stomach. With my wolf so weak, I was still healing too slowly. And healing slowly meant that the skin was more likely to develop marks.

So he took a shower after Kyron was clean. "Huff..." Vincent rubbed his arms and face. His skin became much smoother, without any scars. Vincent rubbed his left arm, then frowned. “Where are my scars?” he muttered softly. As far as he remembered, he had a persistent sewing scar on his forearm. He got the scars when he was 12 years old. But now the wound is gone without a trace.

The laughter faded slowly, leaving something softer behind it, something neither of them tried to name. "I should let you sleep," Arsen said eventually, standing and gathering both empty bowls. "Arsen." He paused. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For this." He didn't answer. He only gave a small nod and turned toward the sink, and as he did, the loose collar of his shirt shifted just enough for Sera to catch sight of his back. Her breath caught. Pale, raised scars crossed his shoulder blades in jagged lines, deep enough to have required stitches once, long enough ago that they had faded to silver against his skin. They weren't the clean, round marks of bullet wounds. She had seen enough of th

All four of them had been horrible to me throughout middle and high school, all while Atlas stood by silently, that insufferable look of indifference on his face. Duke Kentworth had been through some changes of his own. His hair was still the shade of midnight, unruly as it sat on his head, but now grazed the nape of his neck. Duke had always been large, built like a linebacker. He lost some of the roundness in his face, his jawline jutting out in sharp angles. What truly captured my attention was the scar running down his cheek. It was a light shade of pink, slightly raised as though it had just healed. While werewolves healed fast, we were still able to scar just as a human would. Instead

She smirks and shrugs, “Yeah, well it gets worse. A lot worse. But I’ll save that for now, no offence to you, Seb, but I’m far too pissed to be careful with my words.” He nods, still feeling queasy. It gets worse? She sighs and pulls off her jumper, revealing a black cropped tank top and an intricate web of silver scars, all over her arms, chest and stomach. It looks like they cover most of her body. He can’t help his jaw going slack as he stares at her skin. She smiles sadly,

I said proudly, remembering those words Lana had said to the upon meeting her for the first time. I looked down at my scars that were almost gone and I smiled. "Most of your scars are gone." Ares said and I smiled at him, nodding quickly. "I don't know why. But they are just disappearing." I exclaimed. Ares scoffed and stepped back from me. "While mine are reappearing. The moon goddess is really unfair." Ares said looking at his chest and I finally noticed something on his chest. Scars. They looked like someone had run a knife through Ares' chest. Long scar marred his skin and I gasped knowing they hadn't been there before. They looked really deep and I knew it must have hurt so much.

LORD REVANDREL. I should be avoiding a face-to-face with this female. Hell, I was trying to, that was why we started in the position we did. But now I am beginning to realize…I did not mind it. I should, but I didn’t. What I did mind were the scars on her back. Urekai healed fast and fully. It was hard to leave a scar on us, no matter how deep the bruises were. It took a lot for our healing abilities to malfunction and fail to heal completely, leaving a scar. Yet Baevera’s back was littered with them.