Another hurt/comfort aesthetic: half-closed eyes

Feverish from an infected injury, with glazed eyes rolling erratically under half-closed lids; they’re semi-conscious and barely coherent, moaning softly in pain, limbs writhing weakly, and they only quiet when Caretaker holds their hand / strokes their forehead / cradles their head in their lap.

Eyes narrowed, head bowed and shoulders hunched against the driving rain/snow, barely able to make out the way in front of them as they constantly blink precipitation out of their eyes, stumbling with pain/fatigue as they flee from danger or seek out safety/shelter.

Sinking down into the chair, letting their head fall back and their eyelids drift downwards and all the tension in their body melt away, just enjoying being warm and dry and safe after a harrowing journey or a difficult mission.

Exhausted caretaker who has stayed at whumpee’s side all night listening anxiously for each rasping breath, watching each shallow rise and fall of their torn and bloody chest; again and again caretaker feels their eyelids start to close and their head start to droop but each time they jerk themself awake…

When two characters are injured, badly enough to be confined to bed, but they have to be kept together, in the same room or even the same bed, otherwise they'll wake up and go frantic trying to look for the other- calling out for them, struggling upright, crawling out of bed, staggering from the room; desperate to find the other and panicking to know they're alright- so if they're to get any rest in order to recover they need to be within sight and reach of each other, so when they wake up they're right there, able to reassure each other that they're alive and safe and healing.

When a character, at the end of their strength, is staggering from surface to surface leaning heavily on every available support and stops for a moment, sagging against whatever they're leant on, slumping almost sliding down the surface that's the only thing keeping them even marginally upright, with their breath coming in ragged pants, and as they brace an arm against the supporting surface, head bowed, their laboured breathing, noisy and strenuous, is concentrated in the space between.

A character, usually very reserved and self-contained, has their filter/self-control eroded by fever or illness or bloodloss or exposure and starts pleading and clinging to their companions for the comfort and contact they've craved all along but never before dared to openly express- which shocks their friends who had never realised cuddles and caresses were something the incapacitated character wanted and are heartbroken to think they've been depriving them of them; they hesitantly but wholeheartedly oblige with all the warm contact they can provide.

Having to painstakingly pick dozens of little bits out of a character's wounds- shards of glass, shrapnel, thorns, shotgun pellets, quills, gravel, &c.

A character shielding their companion from the elements with their own body- positioning themselves as a wind-block; sitting so their shadow is cast across their companion's face; leaning over them to provide scant shelter from the rain; curling close to lend their warmth; tucking their companion's face close and cupping a hand over it to block wind-blown grit or sand; acting as a human shield from pelting hail or sleet; cradling their companion in their lap to insulate them from the seeping cold of the ground...

Delirium or fever or concussion or exhaustion playing havoc with a character's sense of time so that the flow of events gets a bit slippery and they have no conception of the length of time passing- the companion tending to them steps out for just long enough to brew a cup of tea or fetch another blanket and returns to a character sure they've been abandoned, left to fend for themself, drowning in loneliness-

A deliriously ill/fevered/drugged/confused character begging and pleading and calling for their companion- the companion who's right there beside them trying to shush and soothe and reassure them, but they're too out of it to register their presence or recognise them even when the companion is clutching the fevered character's hand and stroking their hair and cradling their face in their palm and leaning into their line of hazy sight and talking softly to them; all to no avail as the distressed and delirious character continues to cry out for them with increasing desperation and mumbled sobs.

Half-assed concept of bird V1

HEY SWIFTY there's a demo up on steam for a game called V.A Proxy and it has robots in it. I'm still downloading the demo myself but from what I hear the main character robot is blue and there's an angsty red robot you get to beat up at some point, figured you needed to hear about this.

HOLY SHIT are they yuri

NEVERMIND THAT. MEGASTRUCTURE SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND THEY GOT V UNITS

tytytytytyttyty tututu bip boop

Average V1 and Gabe interaction

Ok so today I was on the bus with another trans guy and we were talking about how hard it is to get testosterone. The waiting lists, the price, all the doctors you have to go to, that kind of stuff. Except, we were calling it ’T’, like you do when you’re both closeted and in public.

Then suddenly the elderly lady sitting behind us was like ‘young men, either I’m going crazy or you both have never heard of supermarkets, they have shelves full of tea there! Do you need directions to one?’

To which my buddy starts to explain, because why not. ‘Well you see, we’re both trans, and… ’

The lady didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. ‘Oh no, I don’t mind that at all! Now do you want to know how to get to a place that sells tea? I’m actually heading there right now!’

We let her take us to the supermarket. We let her show us, excitedly, where the tea was. We both bought loads.

The biggest mystery of fnaf lore is how that fucking pizzeria keeps being allowed to reopen

judgemeownt