Deku Arm Scars Novels & Stories

His skin was perfectly unmarred, and it shocked her to no end. Fane flashed a bitter smile. It was not that he had never gotten injured, but because he was very skillful in the medical area that his scars had gone a long time ago. However, he raised his right arm anyway. “See? There’s a scar here!” Indeed, there was a scar the size of a thumb on his underarm. “Why–why does this scar look so strange?” Selena was shocked after she saw that. That was because she noticed that the scar on his arm actually looked like an odd-shaped puzzle—as if it was an imprint of a fish scale that had dropped off.

“Rue, do not make fun of me.” “I am not making fun of you,” I said. “I am reminding you that you are still handsome even when you look awkward.” Percy looked away. His fingers moved close to the scars on his arm. I reached for his hand before he could hide them. “Do not look at them like that,” I said. He became quiet. “They are not pleasant to look at.” “They are part of you,” I said. “Some came from old injuries. Some came from the blood pact backlash. Some came because you suffered too much alone. I hate that you were hurt, but I do not hate your scars.”

Scar is seated on the bed operating a laptop,she looked up to the man beside her tall and well built,his eyes deep like eyes that held many secrets and knows maybe too much. “Marcus,that works well in our favor, you'll upload the video,my health report,the scan results and everything related to my failing health on my official page when I step out,let's use their delusion against them” She scoffed reading comments under a post bashing her. “Karma,they say karma caught me,that bitch karma is scared of me” He slowly unbottoned his shirt revealing a tattoo covering his chest and stomach,an eagle holding a snake with it's claws,he got into the bathtub slowly.

Her flabbergasted face said it all. “The black wolf stood no chance dear. I was prepared. See these marks?” she spoke with loud accent, pushing the sleeve off her right arm and revealing why it was the only sleeve she wore. To call it a scar would be an understatement. The skin was missing around that crescent shaped mark.

he retorted, a hint of confusion tainting his voice. "Well, typically, scars that have been present for over a decade tend to gradually fade due to metabolic processes," Gwyneth replied, recalling the scar she had observed at the hospital. She was certain she hadn't misjudged it. Elizabeth's scar couldn't be more than a few years old at most. Furthermore, burns and scalds affected muscles differently, with scalds generally healing faster.

Even after having the shit kicked out of me on the street when I was young, I still had enough wind left to throw curses at the ones raining down the blows. “You’re just trying to save your biscuits by buttering me up. Or you just want to get what you want, which is my signature on a marriage document.” Her eyes land on my right arm. I realize that it’s hanging down at my side. Both my arms are. As soon as we were out of the basement, I shed my jacket and rolled up my sleeves because I was hot and the pizza was greasy. This means my ruined forearm with all the scars, the funny ridges, and irregular bumps where the bones healed entirely fucking wrong is on full display. I quickly stuff my arm

Deimos snapped. The more I stared, the more I could see the distinction between Conrad and the man standing in front of me. Conrad had no physical scars that I knew off on his face. Deimos had a healed one right above his left eye. You would notice it if you took quick glances. You had to focus. A noticeable scar meant he was injured with silver. Anything else would have closed up. Or it was a steel blade laced with wolfsbane. “Someone seems to be captivated by me,” he said, pulling me out of my deep thoughts. “We have important business to discuss.”

My new life turned out to be better than I had ever imagined. When I first came back to Silver Spring Pack, Marco was heartbroken to hear that I had not only lost two bloodroots, but I was left with painful burn scars on my arm. Furious, he wanted to storm Moon Forest Pack and demand justice from Aden. After all, if I’d had even one bloodroot when I was burned, my arm wouldn’t be marred by such ugly scars. For werewolves, scars were symbols of weakness and shame, having been defeated to gain them.