The SCAR Project

6

It’s impolite to stare. But when it comes to severely injured soldiers, maybe we don’t look enough; or maybe we’d rather not see wounded veterans at all.

That’s the message you get from photographer David Jay’s Unknown Soldier series. Jay spent three years taking portraits of veterans returning from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, but before that — for nearly 20 years — he was a fashion photographer. His stylish, artful images appeared in magazines like Vogue and Cosmopolitan.

“The fashion stuff is beautiful and sexy — and completely untrue,” he says.

Truth became the focus of Jay’s work for the first time about 10 years ago, when he started The SCAR Project, a series of portraits of women, naked from the waist up, with mastectomy scars. Around the time he was taking those photos, he was also trying to comprehend the news coming from Iraq and Afghanistan.

“We hear about ‘this number of men were killed’ and 'this many were injured,’” Jay says, “and we think of them — maybe they got shot — or we don’t really picture what these injured men look like.”

It’s Not Rude: These Portraits Of Wounded Vets Are Meant To Be Stared At

Photos: Courtesy of David Jay/Unknown Soldier

headcannon that wash has a lil scar above his lip, right on the corner of his mouth. tucker asks how he got it, and wash gets all embarrassed and said it was just another Freelancer scar. Tucker, of course, notices wash is all flustered and NEEDS to know, so he asks Carolina. Of course he knows that she might not know either, but he has to try, right? But when he asks Carolina, she bursts into laughter.

“The little scar above his lip? He tripped face first into a table on his first week at Freelancer.”

So tucker practically knocks down Wash’s door yelling about it and he never lets Wash -a former freelancer badass- live down the fact that his first scar from the project was from falling into a table.

SCARS

Moment of Weakness Project (having many scars from dermatillomania/other)


Bucky x Reader


Warnings: Dermatillomania, anxiety, swearing


AN: I really love the idea of this project and knew I had to write one right away to help myself. Dermatillomania, if you do not know, is a branch of OCD where the person picks at their skin/scabs habitually. Though this is not as common, this can also apply to people with other scars, for example, injuries or self harm. I do not wish to romanticize this, as I suffer from it every day, but to provide support and an uplifting piece of text.

Project started by the lovely @sebbystanimagines


“F.R.I.D.A.Y? Can you crank up the air conditioning some more?”


“Certainly, Y/N.”

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RvB: Misquoted

Taken from this lovely post.

“I’m not kidding,” Tucker said the morning of, and Church kept laughing. “Hey, asshole! I’m not kidding.”

“Tucker, that’s the most melo-fucking-dramatic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who asked for reassignments.”

“Five years of dealing with you assholes, hell yeah I asked for reassignments.”

“Fuck you, Church. I don’t even care. My ass gets on that plane and I forget you, and this shitty box canyon, and this shitty sham of an army.”

Church clapped him on the shoulder, a grin in his voice, and said, “yeah. You’re welcome, buddy.”


“Goodbye,” South said, quiet. North’s head was in her lap, their weapons discarded behind a stone somewhere. She knew this was over. She had made sure of it. Some part of her wondered if she should take off the helmet and make sure his eyes were closed.

Her secure channel kicked into life, the voice of Recovery Command. “Recovery One is on his way to you.”

She took her hands off the latches. “Copy that. I’m ready.”

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i. mother, i am a child. i cry, i scream, i throw childish fits, i am a nuisance in every sense of the god forsaken word. i’ve taken your jewelry and wrapped it around my wrist. i stole it like i stole your freedom.
ii. mother, i am scarred. i have been broken and bruised. i’ve fallen and scraped my heart. but you picked me back up and dusted me off, cleaning the blood from my kneecaps.
iii. mother, i am alone. i’ve isolated my loved ones, i’ve taken my scars and projected them onto everybody else’s porcelain skin. i have taken their ivory bathed fingertips in mine and made a promise to which i later broke.
iv. mother, i am sorry.
—  mother, i am all i am, but you love me anyway.