#waxing hurts

[prettypilatespothead]

I've honestly taken a huge step back from rad feminism because of how much radblr harps on shaving and it's so clear that so many of the women screeching about sensory issues and shaving don't understand sensory issues at all. Seeing @deadfish-inabarrel 's take is so refreshing as a woman with autism and sensory issues.

I started shaving my legs when I was 12. I started shaving my vulva at 15 at the first sight of coarser hair. Having hair isn't my baseline. My baseline is bald. I've also grown my hair out, left it for months, and there was still no "getting used to it." I can deal with long-ish hair on my legs until I can feel it blowing in the wind. I can't deal with pubic hair. My hand was constantly down my pants, scratching and rubbing and eventually pulling the hair to the point I accidentally ripped it out. That's when my therapist and I decided that that aspect of feminist praxis wasn't necessary for me.

I've never been able to express why autistic males might not have the same sensory issues (and it honestly almost brought me to tears every time), but it's absolutely because they weren't socialized into shaving everything during their teens. They were able to get used to the coarse hair as it came in, and I - and other autistic women - didn't get that luxury. Men are raised different.

Honestly, congrats to the women who don't understand sensory issues. I'd love to not have them. I'd love to be able to not shave. But I desperately need them to stay in their lane. It's almost like people shouldn't talk about things they don't understand as if they know everything about it.

And after going through all that, I realized that we've got bigger feminist issues than me shaving my coochie because I like the way it feels. Maybe yall should realize that too and stop trying to police women with sensory issues. It's infantalizing the way yall talk like autistic women couldn't possibly have thought about the reasons behind shaving and still have legitimate issues that make them want to shave. "Just let it grow in, come on, autistic MEN don't have these problems, it's obviously not sensory like you say it is".

(can't reblog this)

Why aren't autistic men removing their body hair? Why don't they complain about these same sensory issues?

It's not that I don't believe you, I just need you to understand that it is the removal process (shaving/waxing) that is the source of the discomfort. It changes the tip of the hair, and makes it feel coarse on skin. Many women started removing their body hair when they were very young, so they don't know any different and believe that body hair is inherently uncomfortable.

It doesn't make sense for body hair to inherently be uncomfortable, and somehow only to women. Men AND WOMEN!!! have grown body hair since forever, and removing it is a recent phenomenon. There is no documentation of it bothering people before then.

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie x female!reader thought 18+ only

Eddie blinks his eyes a couple of times to make sure he is actually seeing what he is seeing. He must be living in a nightmare.

You're laying back on one of the pool loungers. One leg dangling over the edge keeping your foot on the warm cement ground, the other spread over Steve's lap as he absently rubs his hand up and down it while he bitches to you about something from work. Your hand rubs up and down Steve's back in comfort. But that isn't the nightmare.

Your bright red bikini bottoms covering enough, but with your legs spread a bit more skin is shown then intended. Spread in such a way that makes Eddie want to just dive in. Get on his knees and worship you, rub his face over your mound as he licks and nips and sucks. Moan as the curly thatch of hair brushes against his face.

Except the curls of hair he is expecting to see peeking around your bikini are gone. Just smooth bare skin. And that isn't the only nightmare. Steve's chest is smooth like when he was in school on the swim team. Not a speck of that beautiful chest hair Eddie would curl into after getting hot and heavy. Not a single curl of the "love rug" he jokingly called it.

Eddie wants to weep. To throw himself down like a little kid and thrash his arms and legs around. Yeah, it's your body and you can do what you want, but he still is sad its gone. Eddie doesn't like change, and suddenly walking in to see both of his partners change something without any warning? Uncomfortable. It makes Eddie feel itchy.

Eddie can barely speak as he walks over and sits next to Steve. He doesn't respond to Steve's warm greeting. Doesn't respond to you asking how the day is. Just stares with big wet eyes at the sight in front of him. A pout on his lips.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Steve's brow furrowed in concern, your wide eyes blinking at him.

"Shaved?" Eddie asks in a quiet voice, eyes darting to Steve's chest and then your clothed pussy. Steve lets out a huff of laughter, "Fuck, thought something was wrong man." Eddie glares," It is."

[slashv1xen]

pov: ur comforting bo sinclair after he’s being emotional

gn!reader x bo sinclair - hurt/comfort + fluff

a/n note: this is just a self indulgent post, hope you enjoy! (TW: implications of childhood abuse, slight swearing)

you had just finished washing the dishes when you heard faint sobbing coming from upstairs. ‘who could that be?’

you walked up the stairs and opened a bedroom door. inside, was bo crying his eyes out (but as quietly as possible), a scattered pile of photos of him and his family as kids and scrunched up balls of tissues. as soon as the door opened his head whipped around to the door, his eyes red and watery.

the both of you made eye contact, both of your mouths slightly agape. bo immediately turned red and sniffled, avoiding your gaze and rubbing his tears aggressively.

“oh bo…” you say softly, walking to him and sitting on the bed next to him. he looked down, clearly embarrassed. you sighed, and cupped his face with one hand. “bo, you don’t need to hide your emotions from me, it doesn’t make you any less of a man. i want you to feel safe with me, and i want to you to know that you can always talk to me, okay?”

he looked up at you, his lip quivering as he obviously tried to hide his crying. " 'm not cryin', it's the damn dust in this room," he said as strongly as possible, however his voice broke in the middle of his sentence.

you looked down at the photos and held one, looking at the picture of a 10yo bo holding a fishing pole and a large grin on his face, the scars on his wrists appearing fresh.

"you crying over your upbringing? look bo, i know you've had a shit upbringing and i am so sorry, but whenever you feel this way please come to me, i'll never let anything like that happen to you again, alright?" you set the photo down on the bed, and your eyes met with bo's, who's eyes were wide open.

his eyes began welling up with tears again, but he looked away from you, gripping the sheet under him so tight his knuckles turned white.

"oh bo..." you whispered. you gently got up from the bed and sat on his lap (much to his surprise), and you cupped his face with your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. "what, what 're you doin'?"

"you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. i'm not here to force anything out of you, just let me hold you."

this sent him over, he couldn't contain his feelings like he usually does after you said this. he looked down and started quietly sobbing, and you pulled his head into your chest. you felt your shirt getting wet and his hands gripping onto your shirt so tight you were surprised it didn't rip. you wrapped your arms around his head, running one hand through his hair and the other scratching his back lightly.

"shh, i'm here bo, let it all out.." you cooed, kissing him every so often on the crown of his head. like clockwork, he started crying harder, his quiet wails getting louder.

this went on for some time, until he stopped (after around 20min). he looked up at you, with red eyes and damp cheeks.

“i love you so much, you know that right? i am-” you begin to say, when bo pushed his lips to yours, kissing you softly, never wanting this moment to end.

[beatriceportinari]

The manticore, origami, one square sheet of paper

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Greif (Bo Sinclair x AFAB Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile now cause I never felt good enough about it to actually post. I wanted to make a good hurt/comfort but not make it too over the top extreme and I'm really confident in this version of it to finally post it. This is the first time I've posted a heavier fic like this so please head all the trigger warnings I put for this one.

Notes: Minors DNI, This fic is written with an AFAB reader in mind though no specific descriptions are used the pronouns She/her are used in relation to the reader. Trigger warnings: Pregnancy, abortion talk (Briefly). Bo is really mean at least in the start, Hurt/Comfort. Afab reader with she/her pronouns used. Excessive Cursing.

"If you fuckin' think I'm lettin' you bring a fuckin' baby into this town you're fuckin crazy!"

Bo yelled as he paced around the living room of the main house. You had finally come clean and revealed to him that you were most likely pregnant. He was taking the news about as well as one would expect Bo Sinclair to.

"I didn't ask to get pregnant Bo! Maybe you should've been more careful!"

You screamed right back at him. Bo scoffed at your argument and shook his head, a nasty grin overtaking his face.

"I shoulda never let you fuckin stay here. I told myself the day you rolled into town that you were gonna cause me nothin' but trouble"

"Maybe you should let Vincent make me into one of his wax figures then Bo, or better yet, you can keep me in the basement under the station."

Bo froze at your statement and fixed you with an expression you had never seen grace his face before.

"You better watch your fuckin' mouth if you know what's good for ya"

"Why Bo? You can't handle the truth of what you were doing in that basement before I came along?"

"You have not got a fuckin' clue what you're talkin' about. When what you need to worry about is what your gonna do with bastard you got growin' in there cause it's not gonna have any relation to me"

He spat, motioning to your stomach.

"If you don't wanna keep the baby what do you suppose I do then?"

"I mean hell if I know, I'm sure the pharmacy in the next town over has some pills or somethin' to nip the problem in the bud"

"Y- you'd really want me to go through with that? After everything we've been through together? Are you fucking serious?"

"No darlin' I want you to go all the way over to the next town over and go on a fuckin' shoppin' spree!"

"How could you even suggest something like that Bo? After everything we've been through?"

"A baby ain't nothin' but a liability, a liability ain't a single one of us got time for. 'sides do you really fuckin' think Ambrose is the place to raise a baby?"

"You, Vince and Les grew up here! Plus it's not like you'd let me fuckin' leave and go somewhere else to raise the baby. You'd turn me into a wax figure before that ever happened"

"Exactly, so what happens when that rug rat grows up and starts askin' questions? Askin' shit about what his daddy and uncles do? Askin' about the figures? What the fuck are you gonna do then?"

"You explained what the 3 of you do to me pretty damn near perfect didn't you?"

You countered Bo's argument. You watch his face as another unreadable expression crossed it as he finally sat down in his recliner and put his head in his hands. You sat and watched him in sick curiosity before the overwhelming feeling hit you like a truck.

Bo Sinclair was afraid.

An emotion you quite honestly never thought you'd see Bo experience. Sure Lester had told you stories from when they were kids and scared of their parents, storms or the usual childhood fears. But this was different. Bo wasn't a child and this wasn't a storm that would just pass if he hid under his covers and waited long enough.

You sat looking at a broken son in the body of a man, a son who had never healed from the torture his own parents put him through. The cracks that Bo tried to conceal so well from his own upbringing were crumbling in front of you. The fears coming back to him, his mother's voice echoing in his head that he would just grow up to be like his father.

The fear that it would be twins, like him and Vince and he'd have to watch them be separated and not be able to do a thing for them. Not being able to take them to a hospital just to protect Ambrose and his brothers.

"You're not going to be like them Bo"

You broke the silence with a whisper. You could hear Bo sharply suck in a breath, you were treading on unprecedented territory with Bo. His childhood was just something he didn't talk or think about at all and now it was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"Shut up"

He mumbled back. A usual response for when Bo felt like you were trying to back him into a corner and he was running out of ammo to fight you off.

"You're not going to be like them Bo. You aren't them and you never will be."

You exclaimed louder. Bo threw his hands off his face and stood up so fast the chair tipped on it's back legs. He stood, in front of the chair, just starring at you, breathing heavily as emotions swam through his eyes. You decided to be bold and test the waters, you began to take small steps toward Bo, he wasn't attempting to walk away so you continued this until you were right in front of him.

"Bo"

You said softly as you stood directly in front of him. He finally snapped his eyes down to meet yours.

"Bo, you're going to be better then them. You're going to be a good dad Bo, you've had a first hand experience of what not to be like as a parent, it's going to be rocky sure but-"

"My mama always told me I'd end up being just like daddy, Just a mean son of a bitch who never had anything nice to say to no one."

Bo cut you off, a much softer tone then before when his fear was translating to anger.

"Do you want to be like you dad? Are you gonna hate this baby if it doesn't come out to be what you were expecting?"

Bo look at you as if you had grown three heads.

"Of course not, it's my kid, how could I not love my own flesh and blood."

"If you know that, and aren't planning to emulate your father, then why are you so worried about ending up like him?"

Bo was stunned, no one had ever talked him through his emotions like that.

"T-that was the only image of a father I ever got. I don't know what a good dad is like. I don't know how "normal" kids who parents actually wanted 'em around had it"

You reached down and grabbed his wrist gently. Bringing it up and rubbing your fingers over his scars, the scars that told many glaring stories of what shaped him into the cold man he was today. You were thawing him out though, slowly but surely.

"You'll learn, No ones saying it'll be easy, but you're capable of running this whole town and taking care of the four of us, I'm sure you'll pick up fatherhood just as quick as anything else."

"Well that ain't my only issue with this whole baby thing though"

"What else is wrong then Bo?"

"It's- It's fuckin'" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "What if it's twins, and their conjoined like- like me and Vince were."

"Oh Bo"

"We ain't got no doctors here, and it's not like we could go stay in another town for the duration of it that would be too risky, god forbid you have complications too. I just- I don't know if I could do that darlin'"

Everything was coming together and your vision on why Bo was so angry was becoming clearer and clearer. Bo wasn't angry at you, he was scared of loosing you. Scared of being alone when he had finally found something he never thought he would ever get to have.

"Bo honey, I know it's scary, but what happened with you and Vince was rare. There's no guarantee that this baby will even be twins. You should've brought this all to me instead of just yelling."

"I know darlin', I should've went about it better. But I guess when you told me you were pregnant I- I got scared. The entire time you've been here I've had these scenarios in my head, worryin' about what would happen"

You were speechless as you watch as he turned away from you and began pacing again, this time without the yelling. The entire time you had known Bo you had never known him to be one to talk about his feelings. "I'm not a fuckin' pussy" He was remark to you when you would ask him what was wrong.

The front door swung open as Vincent returned from the wax museum. Bo stopped as your gazes moved to Vince who was now frozen in the doorway of the living room.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Vincent signed. You looked at him apologetically before flicking your eyes over to Bo to see what he would say.

"Nah Vince it's nothin'. Just uh- She's pregnant is all"

Vincent perked up and his gaze immediately flicked over to you.

"Really?"

He signed, giving off an aura of excitement. You nodded at him and mustered a smile

"I'm gonna be an uncle!. I'll start reading dad's old medical books and learn things to help with the delivery"

"Now Vince we ain't even-"

"I know he had an entire book about it, I'll start getting set up for prenatal appointments too. Maybe we could even go to the next town over for checkups and stuff, we'll need stuff for the baby too"

Vincent kept rambling in sign, something he did often. You couldn't help but laugh at his childlike wonder at the prospect of being an uncle. You looked over to Bo, who was noticeably less tense as he watched his twin's excitement over the new member of the family.

"Vince chill out for a sec, having this baby is so risky. What if it's twin and they come out like us? You're gonna separate 'em?"

"Well all things considered, the pregnancy only has a one in 250 chance of becoming a twin pregnancy. Plus we're identical twins, only fraternal ones run in families which means two separate eggs would have to be fertilized instead of the egg splitting."

Bo and you look at Vincent in dumbfounded shock as he signed the information as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where the hell did ya learn all that?"

Bo asked still in shock as he looked at his brother as if he had grown another head.

"In dad's old medical books" Vincent shrugged "I'll leave you two alone now though, I should go get researching"

Vincent signed in reply before turning and heading upstairs to his bedroom. When you heard Vincent's bedroom door close you turned back to look at Bo who was already looking at you when your eyes met his. A lighter mood fell over the living room and smile at him.

"A one in 250 chance huh?"

"Yeah, I reckon so"

"You wanna take that chance daddy?"

All the emotions of the night wash over Bo's face as he thinks for a moment then answers.

"If you think it's a good idea, can't really argue with facts I suppose. But there's gonna be rules."

With that Bo is back, the rule making irritable Bo you fell in love with when you rolled into the gas station all those years ago.

"What rules are we talkin' about?"

"For starters your gonna take it easy, when someone comes into town your gonna stay here at the house and out of sight. No heavy lifting, no helping Vincent anymore, no walk-"

"Bo, Just wrap me in bubble wrap then yeah?"

"I mean I could go to the next town over and find somethin-"

"I was joking Bo, You're not wrapping me in a protective layer"

"I can if I want too"

He mumbled under his breath. I bit back a laugh and rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say Bo"

"Hey I run this town-"

Bo begins the spiel you've heard about 20,000 times since you began living here as you walk into the kitchen, the cravings starting to take over, as he follows you to explain how he runs the town and how what he says goes and if he has to make more rules to keep you he will.

As you stand in the kitchen, eating your snack and listening to Bo's spiel. Something deep down inside you, lets a feeling wash over you that maybe just maybe, everything will be just fine.

[magicicephoenix]

for the color palettes, how about 'heartaches' for sammy or bendy? 👀

careful sammy, a fire like that can burn…

sammy with heartaches

[thanatologie]

anyone that says emmrich never actually faces his fear isn't actually paying attention. hear me out, okay, i've talked before (so many times) about how i think for emmrich his fear of death is less actual thanaphobia and more...his fear of being alone. of living alone, of spending eternity alone - especially in a culture and a society that places emphasis on lovers being buried together; he's terrified of it. and a romanced emmrich is so terrified of his relationship with rook - and how he feels - that he's willing to try to end it on the eve of a battle one or both of them might not come back from, because he's worried it might not be the big damn love story he's been aching for his whole goddamn life.

and guess what! rook doesn't come back.

he spends almost a month making that damn dagger - and like the rest of the crew - trying to find rook to pull them out of the fade prison because he's lost them. he's lost them right after realizing his fear's gotten the better of him and he's staring down the barrel of eternity without them. he was already trying to backpedal the whole thing before solas pulled his switcheroo and you know rook telling him they'll talk about it at home was like...a constant refrain in his head that whole almost month they were lost.

(which raises a good point with the mortal vs lich path in this respect, because a mortal emmrich was ready to tear open the fade to get rook back, imagine how many lines a lich emmrich might cross, especially given his line about never letting them be parted in this or any other world again. i have thoughts about how emmrich doesn't come back wrong from that, no, but he definitely comes back changed, he's...off. i've seen speculation that lich emmrich isn't emmrich - which i don't buy - or isn't entirely emmrich - which is a little more interesting and there may be some truth to the latter, or it could be he thinks he's indestructible at that point and gets really reckless and less measured but that is another argument for another time.)

and basically the point i'm leading up to here is...you can complain all you want that he never uses the l word before the final battle, but even with harding pointing out he's gotten a little spacey and distracted and mopey with a relationship on the burner, and all the other pet names he uses so damn liberally (dearest, darling, flame of my heart), he's still holding a lot of stuff back. he's still holding himself back, quite a bit, until that moment when he finally (finally) tells rook he loves them. he never calls rook my love until after the fade prison in the mortal path, and it's just the once, as far as i can actually remember. and it's because of all of that shit above.

(lich emmrich does it earlier, because that this may be my last chance to say it comes a hell of a lot sooner, and he uses my love liberally after that point.)

this is intentional on his part. this man has skirted around using the word love so much ("very fond of you" my ass) that rook totally has the option to call him out on it and it's like a record scratch.

he's, i think, terrified of loving something that can die? and he's terrified of being alone. and ultimately a romanced mortal emmrich has to face both of those things, one after the other, between manfred and the fade prison. and i think, going forward, it's not going to be completely gone - in fact for a hot minute after everything it's probably exacerbated to a large degree and he's probably extra...like that for a while - but it makes him confront those things head on in...very blunt ways. here's a reminder of what losing someone you love deeply to death feels like. here's what losing someone you've given your heart to for safekeeping feels like. it's kind of disingenuous to claim his fears are left untouched, when he's given a one-two knock out punch and is left having to deal with the fallout of that.

eta: and none of this actually touches on the fact that it's him that tells rook to grab the dagger before they go poof, so he's siting with that constant weight on his chest, too, but we'll dig into that at a later time because it's cold and my fingers are starting to get stiff.

[switchy-bastard]

Damn, someone should really just tie me up and pour hot wax on my body, let it cool, beat if off of me, and repeat until the first degree burns and bruises paint their ownership all over the canvas of my flesh

[armyangxls]

The girliness to become obsessed with a character from a movie you're literally repulsed by and wanna throw up when seeing clips of it! And haven't even seen the movie! hahaha 😍🥰🫣💜 Bo Sinclair <<<<<33333333

[lebenspurpur]

injury

AN: this was supposed to be Vincent x reader, but I guess you can read it as all brothers x reader. also i apologize if this isn't good, i'm currently trying to write a real fic, and it's kind of difficult. i'm praying to the writing-gods though.

Warnings: description of an injury, mention of needles and syringes

The front door flies open with an audible 'bang' as the long-haired artist carries you inside the residence. Behind him trail his brothers, in your peripheral you see Bo’s tense jaw as he tucks his gun away.

Vincent’s boots loudly trudge through the living room. Shortly after he sets you down on the billiard table. Thinking he’s going to leave, you weakly extend a hand, trying to find stability, but he stays. One arm keeps tightly securing your torso, the other sweeps old newspaper off the dusty surface. His movements are fast, he’s hurrying, you think.

Soon, you're laying on your back on the green cloth, the frame of the table pressed painfully into the muscles of your neck. Then he leaves anyway. His heavy boots stomp down the hallway before you can protest. His brothers stay, though.

Bo looks tense, you notice as he appears in your vision and Lester’s forehead is wrinkled in worry.

“Sorry for bleeding all over the table-”, you cringe at your own, faint voice.

“Don’t worry about that now.”, Lester tries to give you a reassuring smile, but the crease in his forehead doesn’t fade and neither does the shake in his voice, “Vincent’ll patch you up.”

Speaking of the devil, his steps come closer again, faster this time. Then he’s next to you, carrying the first aid box from the bathroom. It’s all banged up ever since Bo punched it off the wall during one of his meltdowns. The memory makes you want to laugh, but even breathing hurts now.

Subconsciously, you can hear Bo’s belt buckle click open. You raise an eyebrow in confusion, but before you can attempt to ask anything, there’s the sensation of something leathery against your lips.

“Open up.”, Bo sounds sterner than you’d like, but you comply, biting down on the leather as hard as you can. You know what happens now.

A syringe appears in Vincent’s hand and suddenly cold fear fills your heart. The belt falls out of your lips as your mouth opens.

Memories flood your brain, pictures of helpless victims, twitching as Vincent injected his own little poison into their blood, rendering them helpless.

You don’t think he’s trying to poison you but the idea of a syringe in his hands is enough to make your breath shorten in panic. Meekly, you try to get away from its iron tip and raise your hand to push him away.

“Please, Vincent-”, even to yourself your voice sounds strained and near silent. “Without.”, you manage to croak out, finding his eye behind the waxen mask, pleading.

It takes a rough second of silent praying but, finally, he nods, and puts it to the side. In the meanwhile, Lester pushes the piece of leather back in between your teeth and Bo grabs your arms, pinning them to the table.

“This is gonna hurt, sweetheart, you know that.”, ‘is that warmth in Bo’s eyes?’, you think, “Try to keep still, I know you can do it.”

A weak nod is all you can muster up as a reply, questioning if Bo's faith in you is justified.

You feel Vincent’s hand pulling your leg towards him, and then there’s something cold touching your ankle. You nearly jerk back out of reflex, but his grip is strong.

Sharp blades cut the fabric away from your leg, inch for inch until he reaches the tear in your flesh, oozing crimson. You sense he’s trying to hurry without hurting you, and you wish you could tell him that the pain is already fading into a numb, hot throbbing.

In your confused, half-conscious state, you barely register the cap of a bottle opening before you feel it. Scorching hot liquid, burning into your flesh.

Tears dwell in your eyes as your muffled scream echoes through the room. Your head lifts off the edge of the billiard table, trying to get away, but then Lester’s beside you, gently pressing it back down.

“Already halfway done,”, he whispers, voice laced with shared agony, “You’re doing so well.”

Whimpering, you try to focus on the warmth of his hand on your forehead as Vincent dabs the disinfectant and already-crusted blood away. His other hand squeezes your thigh lovingly as if to comfort you.

His hands are gone for a quick moment, and you mentally prepare for the needle. This isn’t the first time Vincent has stitched you up, but this is the first really life-threatening wound you’ve acquired in all your time in Ambrose. You take a hazy mental note to buy disinfectant without alcohol if you survive this.

Vincent's hands return to your thighs. You bite down on the leather as the needle pierces your skin, pulling the thread through the hole. Grunts turn into weak sobs as he continues swiftly, leaving you with no time to process the pain flaring in your leg.

“Shh…”, Bo’s voice is surprisingly tender, “It’s over soon, darling, I promise.”

His thumb rubs circles into the inside of your arms, but the pain is far too intense for you to notice his soft touches.

It feels like an eternity until Vincent sets the needle down, and you nearly start sobbing all over again when he finally does. This time out of relief.

The ceiling moves as Bo lets go of your arms, and you suddenly feel unsupported, like you’re going to fall over any second. Someone takes the belt out of your mouth, it clatters as it hits the tiles somewhere behind you. A wet sensation hits your freshly stitched-up skin.

Vincent is more careful with the bandaging, testing its tightness before he ties the ends together, so it won’t bother you. You’re scared he'll leave, but fortunately, your concerns stay unverified.

Soft hands find your shoulders again as he’s done with his work, carefully raising your torso off the bloody table. Legs still supported on the edge of the furniture, he adjusts your head, leaning it against his chest, before he lifts you for good, trying to be as gentle as possible. Even in your current situation, his consideration for you warms your heart.

You attempt to catch a glimpse of the table before he walks away but all you pick up is a mess of red, blotched over the remains of your jeans as Lester puts Vincent’s utensils away.

Then the artist turns around and all you register anymore is his heartbeat next to your ear as he carries you away.

[gothhabiba]

shave your armpits because it looks prettier. if you shave your armpits you’re not a feminist. but actually shaving your armpits is for hygiene. you should wax your legs. and your bikini line. actually waxing any part of your body can give you ugly ingrown hairs and permanently damage your skin and follicles and besides that’s the patriarchy. (get laser hair removal instead.)

sorry I get that the driving emotion here is “frustration with receiving contradictory information,” but putting “if you shave your armpits you’re not a feminist” (who on God’s green Earth even says this?) next to injunctions to shave and wax and laser various parts of your body as if these ideas have anything approaching the same amount of traction and power behind them or the same material impact is super goofy

[ddenji]

okay i think this is about to be an unpopular opinion but…. these two are like 2 sides of the same coin to me. beyond the shared public safety allegiance, they both violate denji's autonomy (yoshida stripping him to his underwear, tying him up, and threating his family in chapter 132 vs fumiko assaulting him in the movie theater in chapter 136) and work against his own best interest for the sake of the government. however, while they both take action in trying to force denji to do what they want, fumiko takes a more directly active role in the space of the fanatic who can't see/ doesnt care about the human behind her idol, whereas yoshida takes the more passive role of the government drone who wont act to protect the human if it means going against orders. in previous chapters, fumiko actively runs away from denji, leaving him to fight for himself, while yoshida passively tells denji that he isnt allowed to protect himself, putting him in harms way in his own right (and there is still the underlying threat of violence there if he tries to protect himself). even in the panels from this chapter, we see fumiko being active about her disregard for denji's well being by asking for little pieces of him, where yoshida is more passive in his disregard of the plan to dismember denji with a simple "yeah" answer. i know that they also have their differences, but i just think that they share intentional similarities (that other characters, particularly in the chainsaw man church, also share!!) that overall lead to denji getting hurt.

[palettepainter]

Oh-ho blocked ear canal baby, the next following days are gunna be great-

[slashv1xen]

bo sinclair’s reaction to you flinching

fem!reader x lovesick/obsessed bo sinclair

category: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

the two of you were having an argument. what about? his anger problems

y/n: “you always do this, you seriously need to get your short temper in check”

bo: “my temper ‘s perfectly fine, ya just looking for reasons to argue”

y/n: “you’re raising your voice now! don’t you understand that yelling like this makes everyone else feel like shit?”

bo: *rolls eyes.* “just shut up, okay?!”

he stepped forward towards you aggressively and you flinched. hard.

when he saw this his eyes flashed with hurt and he took a small step back. his jaw was slightly agape, then hardened as he thought of his actions. ‘is she seriously afraid of me?’

you began breathing heavily, and bo sighed whilst running his hand through his hair. your eyes darted around nervously, waiting for a larger reaction

to your surprise, he walked up to you slowly and hugged you, his muscular arms wrapping around your upper back. his face was in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. his eyes watered slightly, and you mouth went dry as you felt you neck becoming damp

“are you afraid of me? you know i’ll never hurt you, right?” he sniffled, then looked up at you for reassurance, his nose and corners of his eyes red, and his cheeks damp from his hot tears.

you stayed silent for a few seconds, unsure how to comfort him. bo’s never this emotional, so it truly was a sight to see. “i know bo, i’m not afraid of you. i’m sorry, i was just…” you sighed and ran your fingers through his hair, smiling at him reassuringly.

his head fell into the crook of your neck once more, finding comfort in this position. he mumbled a few words, words you couldn’t hear. “what was that, bo?”

his face heated up, you didn’t even need to see it, you could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. “let’s just cuddle together” he mumbled again quietly. you laughed at his shyness, and the two of you made it to the bedroom, and reconciled.

authors note: hi loves, this is my first fanfic and i hope you enjoyed it! sorry if it is rushed, i wrote this at 12am while i was supposed to be sleeping. if you have any feedback, please say i would love to improve my writing. if you have any requests i would also love to complete those. i also feel like this is out of character but it’s all up to interpretation i guess. thank you for reading and have a great day x

[lacquerheadd]

guess who’s obsessed with a new podcast!!

[hexedwinchester]

Proof that every writer like to hurt Jared's Character

....and I do not approve...

***hides all the Hurt Sam WIP and uploaded fics***