#injury text

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I have finally figured out the camera lens and the setting I need to catch clear photos of wolverines! Ugh, I just love them and their incredibly dense fur so much.

These two are Rainier and Ahma at Northwest Trek. They're full siblings, but were born in different litters, in 2009 and 2007 respectively. The easiest way to tell them apart is by their eyes - or, really, their lack thereof. They've both got some congenital eye issues that have resulted in the surgical removal of one/both eyes as they've aged into elderhood. Ahma is now eyeless, and Rainier still has one eye left (although a keeper did mention it may be getting close to that time, again).

As you'll see, though, they still get around spectacularly. When it comes to finding snacks, they do it by smell. I rented a lens specifically to take photos of this special enrichment day: an elk carcass feed. They got an elk spine and pelvis, both sourced from a safely-euthanized member of the herd at the same facility.

Photos containing the carcasses will be below the cut. The carcass chunks are not bloody or gory - they look kind of like something you'd find on a grocery store shelves - so I'd really suggest checking the photos out. Wolverines are super strong, super tough little guys and it was so cool to see these two really get into tearing apart huge hunks of meat.

Beyond here lies MEAT.

[valkyriexo]

You get your period | Hyunjin

ᑉ³pairing; Hyunjin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Smau, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Reader has their period, Mentions of blood

ᑉ³Authors Note; Edited ! Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

The room was filled with chatter and laughter, the sound mingling with the soft music playing in the background. Colleagues and acquaintances moved about, their animated conversations punctuated by the clinking of glasses and occasional bursts of laughter. It was supposed to be a happy atmosphere, a chance to network and socialize, but to you, it felt like a suffocating few hours.

Despite the vibrant energy pulsating through the room, you felt isolated, trapped within the confines of your own discomfort. Each laugh felt like a dagger twisting in your gut, a painful reminder of the mask you were struggling to maintain. You plastered on a smile, nodding along to the conversations swirling around you, but inside, you were crumbling.

All you could focus on was the throbbing ache in your lower abdomen. Each wave of pain felt like a vice grip, threatening to squeeze the life out of you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to maintain a composed facade while feeling like a wreck inside.

As you excused yourself to the restroom for the umpteenth time, dread washed over you. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if you were dragging yourself through quicksand. The familiar hum of the air conditioning seemed to mock your discomfort, the cool breeze offering no respite from the inferno raging within your body.

The mirror revealed a nightmare: your once pristine dress was stained with crimson. The stains seemed to mock you, taunting you with their unwanted presence.

You were mortified, embarrassment and shame threatening to drown you. Your hands trembled as you frantically tried to salvage what was left of your dignity, dabbing futilely at the stubborn stains with damp paper towels. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly clear that this was a battle you could not win.

The weight of judgment hung heavy in the air, suffocating you with its silent condemnation. What would your coworkers think if they saw you like this? Would they whisper behind your back, doubting your competence and professionalism? The thought made your stomach churn with anxiety, a knot tightening in your chest.

Desperation clawed at you as you contemplated your next move. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you grappled with the impossible choice between suffering in silence or fleeing in disgrace.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a familiar ping broke through the chaos of your thoughts. It was Hyunjin, your ever-reliable boyfriend, offering a lifeline in the form of a text message. Despite your protests, he insisted on coming to your rescue.

As you frantically tried to salvage what was left of your dignity in the restroom, a soft knock on the door startled you.

"Love, it's me," Hyunjin's voice called out, filled with concern.

With a mixture of relief and fear, you opened the door to find him standing there. With gentle reassurance, he wrapped you in his embrace, shielding you from the judging eyes of the world. Without a word, he handed you a neatly folded garment, a discreet smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Put this on," he said softly.

You glanced down at the garment in your hands and felt a surge of gratitude wash over you. It was a dark blazer, impeccably tailored and stylishly understated. With trembling fingers, you slipped it on, feeling its comforting weight settle over your shoulders. You noted with relief that it was long enough to cover the stains on your dress

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Hyunjin simply smiled and took your hand in his, leading you out. 

As you reached the exit, he led you towards the waiting car, its sleek exterior a welcome sight amidst the hustle and bustle of the city streets. With a gentle touch, he opened the door for you, revealing the interior adorned with plush towels carefully arranged to protect the seat.

You offered him a grateful smile as you settled into the car, the soft fabric of the blazer providing a comforting cocoon against the outside world. Hyunjin closed the door behind you with a reassuring click.

Through the tinted windows, you watched as he engaged in conversation with another manager, his gestures animated and his expression earnest. Though you couldn't hear their words, you could sense the genuine concern in his voice as he explained your sudden departure, painting a picture of a devoted partner looking out for your well-being.

As the car pulled away from the curb, leaving behind the chaos of the event, you couldn't shake the feeling of mortification that chewed at your insides. The image of Hyunjin coming to your rescue, witnessing you at your most vulnerable, lingered in your mind like a haunting nightmare.

You tried to push the embarrassment aside, but it clung to you like a persistent shadow, refusing to be ignored. Despite Hyunjin's love and reassurance, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy that tugged at your heartstrings.

As you arrived home, Hyunjin wasted no time in pampering you with the kind of tender care and affection that only he could provide. With a gentle touch, he led you to the bathroom, where a luxurious bubble bath awaited, steam rising invitingly from the surface.

You couldn't help but smile as you sank into the warm embrace of the water, feeling the tension melt away from your weary muscles. Hyunjin hovered nearby, a silent guardian angel, ready to tend to your every need.

As the warm water of the bubble bath enveloped you, Hyunjin gently applied a soothing face mask to your skin, his touch light and tender. The cool gel felt like a balm against your flushed cheeks, easing the tension that had settled in your muscles.

With practiced hands, Hyunjin began to massage the mask into your skin, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your forehead, cheeks, and chin. Each touch sent waves of relaxation cascading through your body, melting away the knots of tension that had formed during the long and trying day.

As he worked, his movements became more rhythmic, his touch alternating between gentle strokes and firm pressure points. With each pass, you felt the weight of the world lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of tranquility and calm.

But Hyunjin didn't stop there. With a soft smile, he moved his attention to your scalp, his fingers deftly massaging away the lingering remnants of your headache. The sensation was pure bliss, each stroke sending tingles of pleasure cascading down your spine.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the gentle rhythm of his touch, allowing the stress and tension of the day to melt away into the warm embrace of the bath.

As the soothing scent of lavender filled the air, Hyunjin busied himself with preparing a tray of your favorite snacks, arranging them with care beside the bath. He selected strawberries, dipped in rich chocolate, knowing they were your weakness, along with a selection of delicate finger sandwiches and a glass of chilled sparkling water adorned with a slice of lemon.

He settled himself beside the bath, perched on a small stool, his gaze never leaving yours as he offered you a strawberry, coated in decadent chocolate. "Here, love," he said softly, his eyes warm with tenderness. "Let me feed you."

You accepted the treat with a grateful smile, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate as it melted on your tongue. With each delicate bite, Hyunjin's love enveloped you like a warm embrace, filling the room with a sense of intimacy and closeness that transcended words.

As you nibbled on the snacks, Hyunjin regaled you with tales of his day, his voice a soothing melody that washed over you like a gentle breeze. 

"I could paint you like this," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile spell of tranquility that enveloped the room. "I want to capture this moment, this image of you surrounded by warmth and light, so I can remember it forever."

You paused, your heart skipping a beat at his words. "Paint me?" you repeated, a hint of disbelief coloring your tone. "But... why would you want to remember this? It's been so mortifying."

Hyunjin's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. "Because even in moments of vulnerability, you are still the most beautiful person I've ever known," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "And I want to remember every part of you, even the moments that you may consider less than perfect."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. At that moment, you realized that Hyunjin's love for you transcended any momentary embarrassment or discomfort. He saw you for who you truly were, flaws and all, and loved you unconditionally.

With a soft smile, you nodded, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "Okay," you whispered, your voice filled with acceptance and gratitude. "Paint me." And as Hyunjin's pencil danced across the page, capturing the essence of your beauty with each stroke.

And as the evening wore on, you reveled in the simple pleasure of being cared for by the most romantic man you had ever known. With each passing moment, the weight of embarrassment and shame lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that could only be found in the arms of your beloved boyfriend Hyunjin.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[aropride]

adhoom, a 10year old boy from gaza, and his 14yr old sister fatima, are $130usd away from reaching their goal to cross the border- their older brother been raising funds since february, and as of the 3rd they are recovered from injuries from october 10th when their home was bombed, though theyre losing weight due to the famine. these kids are so close to their goal, and even a little bit will get them closer to safety

[voidsumbrella]

autocannibalism

(in which i take a silly game mechanic way too seriously)

bonus:

[comfortingcatharsis]

An already ill or injured character being chewed out or berated by an unknowing friend, team/squad/crewmate, commander, etc. for a mistake or perceived carelessness when the audience has already witnessed the character struggling to cope with their worsening condition while the berating character, who would never be so harsh had they known, is oblivious up until the guilt-stricken realisation upon the struggling character's sudden collapse there in front of them or their later discovery huddled miserably in some out of the way corner or unable to rise from their bed, having suffered and struggled in silence until that point, bearing (and possibly believing themselves deserving of) the condemnation all the while, until it turns to solicitous apologetic care.

[dancy-nrew]

I can’t explain the state that I’m in, the state of my heart, he was my best friend

[halflifebutawesome]

MAY 16, 200-

[one-time-i-dreamt]

There were two purple rats that killed you instantly if they bit you, and they were fighting each other. There was also an evil quiche that I had to destroy.

[sporeclan]

[Next >]

Here's a little prologue! Hope you enjoy the backstory of this clan! I'm pretty proud of it, honestly.

Because there's a pretty low contrast on the text in some of these panels, I've written them down under the cut for anyone who's struggling to read it! I've also added some image descriptions to the images themselves :]

Moon ??

A new fungus starts growing in the clan's territories.

Soon, the Star-reach Tree succumbs to the fungus.

It spreads fast and eats most things.

Within moons, trees start falling.

The clans' connection to StarClan has been severed

Desperate for resources and lost without guidance, the clans are driven to war.

The loss of trees means loss of food and shelter for prey...

As a result, most prey evacuate the area, leaving the clans to starve.

...

War ravages the already weakened clans.

Only few cats remain when the dust settles...

And fewer stay for long.

The clans are no more.

A single cat rallies a small group of former enemies together.

Crowwhistle

has a vivid dream

SporeClan has been founded!

Moon 0

First moon of New-Leaf

[maxcuntstappen]

You know, it kills me that try as hard as I might, I WILL never be as good of a fan fic writer as Max Verstappen :/

[sag-dab-sar]

DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH MY WHEELCHAIR.

IF IT IS IN THE WAY ASK ME TO MOVE IT.

NO I DO NOT CARE THAT I WASN'T SITTING IN IT.

IF YOU WOULD NOT PHYSICALLY PICK ME UP AND MOVE ME IF I WAS IN YOUR WAY THEN DO NOT DO IT TO MY WHEELCHAIR.

WHY IS IT ALWAYS HOSPITAL STAFF WHO HAVE NO FUCKING RESPECT HOLY SHIT.

I WOULD HAVE SAID "Please don't touch my wheelchair I will move it out of the way myself" BUT SHE DID IT SO SUDDENLY I DIDN'T HAVE TIME.

SHE ALMOST TOOK MY WHEELCHAIR OUT OF MY REACH IN A WAITING ROOM.

YOU ARE TAKING MY LEGS.

I HAD TO PHYSICALLY GRAB IT BACK FROM HER BEFORE SHE MOVED IT OUT OF MY REACH.

SHE DIDN'T EVEN APOLOGIZE.

SHE WAS JUST WALKING BY SO I WOULD HAVE HAD TO ASK STRANGERS TO GET IT FOR ME.

THATS HUMILIATING.

LET ME REPEAT.

THATS HUMILIATING.

FUCK OFF.

[valkyriexo]

You have an injury | Minho

ᑉ³pairing; Minho x Dancer!Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, angst if you squint

ᑉ³warnings; Reader dealing with an injury, use of pet names

ᑉ³Authors Note; Edited ! Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

The dance studio hums with excitement, the air buzzing with anticipation. You're the lead dancer, and every step you take feels like a triumph, all thanks to your hard work and talent. The big show is just around the corner, and you're more than ready to steal the spotlight.

However, it's been days of pushing your body to the limit, every muscle and bone strained with relentless practice. Your body moves with fluid grace, each step executed with precision and poise. You can feel the eyes of your peers on you, their admiration evident in the way they watch your every move.

As the music reaches its crescendo, you prepare for a particularly challenging sequence. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as the music begins to swell, filling the studio with its rhythm. With a deep breath, you launch yourself into the air, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you execute each move with perfection. It's as if you were born to dance, your body effortlessly translating the music into motion.

But then, in the midst of a particularly demanding jump, it happens.

You land incorrectly, and a searing pain shoots through your ankle.

You feel your body waver, your balance faltering as you struggle to absorb the shock. With a gasp, you collapse to the ground, the impact reverberating through your bones. Tears well in your eyes as the pain radiates from your ankle, pulsing with each beat of your heart. It's a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced. You try to push through the pain, to rise to your feet and continue dancing as if nothing happened. But your body refuses to obey, the agony too overwhelming to ignore. You find yourself trembling, not from exertion, but from the sheer intensity of the pain coursing through your veins.

Your fellow dancers rush to your side, their voices a blur of concern and confusion. They gather around you, their faces etched with worry as they try to assess the situation. But you barely register their presence, your focus consumed by the agony radiating from your ankle.

Tears stream down your cheeks unchecked as you struggle to come to terms with what just happened. The show is just two days away, and you were supposed to be the lead. But now, all of that hangs in the balance, overshadowed by the uncertainty of your injury.

At that moment of vulnerability, you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside you: frustration, fear, anger.

In the midst of your swirling emotions, a gentle hand touches your shoulder, pulling you out from your thoughts. It's one of your fellow dancers, her eyes brimming with compassion.

"Hey, Y/n," she says softly, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Are you hurt? How bad is it? Can you walk?"

With a shaky nod, you try to stand, but the pain shooting through your ankle makes it impossible. You wince, unable to hide the agony etched on your face.

"Hmm... We need to get you to the emergency room," she decides, her voice laced with concern. With her help, you manage to limp out of the studio and into the cool night air, leaning heavily on her for support.

The journey to the hospital is a blur of pain and uncertainty, but your fellow dancer stays by your side the entire time, her presence a comforting one. The harsh fluorescent lights and sterile surroundings offer a stark contrast to the chaos of the dance studio.

As you're wheeled into the emergency room, the sense of urgency is palpable. Nurses and doctors bustle around, their voices a constant murmur as they tend to patients in various states of distress. You're placed on a bed, the crisp white sheets feeling soft against your skin.

Your fellow dancer stays by your side. She holds your hand tightly, offering silent support as you wait for the medical team to assess your injury.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you lie there, the pain in your ankle a relentless reminder of the ordeal you're facing. Your mind races with worry and fear, each passing second only adding to the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your shoulders.

Then, amidst the chaos of the emergency room, you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You turn to see Minho striding towards you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Minho's footsteps echo in the sterile corridors of the emergency room as he approaches your bedside, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around you. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now hold a mixture of concern and hurt, their intensity piercing through the haze of pain that clouds your mind.

Confusion mingles with the pain as you meet his gaze. You never mentioned a word to him about your injury, not wanting to burden him with your troubles. How could he have found out?

Silently, he gestures to the fellow dancer who had accompanied you, a subtle signal that speaks volumes. With a gentle nod, the dancer understands and quietly slips away, leaving you alone with Minho and the weight of his unspoken emotions.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is a whisper, but it reverberates in the silent space between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. "I've been worried sick about you."

Your throat constricts with guilt as you meet his gaze, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm sorry, Minho," you whisper, your voice trembling with remorse. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Minho's jaw tightened, the muscles visibly tensing as frustration simmered beneath the surface. His brows furrowed, and his eyes fixed on you as he struggled to articulate his emotions. "Y/n," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of hurt, "you didn't talk to me all day. I'm left here wondering if I've done something wrong, if you're upset with me." He let out a heavy sigh, his voice slightly trembling. "I went to bring you food, hoping to see you, only to find chaos in the studio and you nowhere to be found. I had to find out from someone else that you were hurt." His words hung in the air, punctuated by a sense of disappointment and worry. "What's the use of having a phone if you don't even bother to use it?"

You flinch at his words, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you like a weighted blanket.

"Do you understand how scary it is to find out the person you love is hurt and you knew nothing about it? And they don't answer?" There was a rawness in his voice, a vulnerability that he rarely showed, laid bare in that moment.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of activity in the emergency room. "I was so caught up in practicing for the dance, I didn't even realize..."

Minho's frustration only seems to intensify at your explanation. "Y/n, your health should come first," he says firmly. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. What if this injury had been worse? What if you had collapsed somewhere with no one around to help?"

His words strike a chord deep within you, and you realize the reality of your actions. Guilt washes over you in waves as you realize the recklessness of your behavior.

"I know, Min," you say, your voice trembling. "I should have been more careful. I know."

Minho's gaze softens slightly at your admission, but the frustration still lingers in his eyes. "Y/n," he said gently, his words carrying the weight of concern, "I need to know that you'll take care of yourself." His hand reached out tentatively, as if to offer comfort, but then recoiled, a gesture mirroring the hesitance in his voice. "You never ask for help, even when you're hurt," he continued. "Remember last time, when you injured your ribs and I didn't find out until I went to hug you?"

You swallow hard, the memory of that moment flooding back with painful clarity. "I remember," you whisper. "But Minho, it's not like I never take care of myself," you explain, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice.

"You've been pushing yourself harder than usual," Minho interjects. "You know that's going to take a toll on your body. You can't do that, Y/N!" His tone is firm

You flinch involuntarily, his words hitting you like a slap in the face. The sting of his words cuts through the air, leaving a palpable tension between you. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, the weight of his concern bearing down on you.

"I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because you were too stubborn to ask for help," he says, his voice carrying worry and frustration.

Tears blur your vision as you lift your gaze to meet Minho's, your heart heavy with guilt and uncertainty. "Minho, I... I'm sorry," you stammer, your voice wavering with emotion. "I never meant to worry you. I just... I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Your apology hangs in the air, the tension between you obvious.

Minho's expression softens at your words, his anger melting away as he reaches out to gently wipe away your tears. "Y/n, you could never be a burden to me," he murmurs. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever you're going through, I want to be there for you. Please, don't ever shut me out like this again."

The door to the room opens, and a doctor steps in, breaking the momentary peace. "I'm sorry to interrupt," the doctor says, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "But I have the results of your examination."

You turn your attention to the doctor, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation bubbling within you. "What's the verdict?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

The doctor offers a sympathetic smile. "You've twisted your ankle," he explains, his words confirming your worst fears. "It's not too severe, but you'll need to be on crutches for the next two weeks to give it time to heal properly."

You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that the injury isn't more serious. The doctor continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I also recommend that you avoid putting weight on the injured ankle as much as possible. No driving until you're fully recovered, and be sure to keep it elevated when you're resting."

You nod, committing the doctor's instructions to memory.

With a gentle hand under your elbow, Minho helps you to your feet, supporting you as you steady yourself on your uninjured foot. "Take it slow," he advises, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your discomfort.

You lean on him heavily as you navigate the corridors of the hospital, grateful for his strength and steadiness. Finally, you reach the exit, the cool night air a welcome relief after the sterile confines of the hospital. Minho guides you to his car, opening the door and helping you settle into the passenger seat with gentle care.

As you arrive home, Minho continues to be by your side, his protective instincts in full force. With gentle hands, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, making sure you're steady every step of the way.

Once inside, Minho leads you to your bedroom, where he encourages you to sit down on the bed. "Stay right here, Y/n," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "I'll take care of everything."

You watch with a mixture of amusement and gratitude as Minho bustles around the room, fetching pillows to prop up your injured ankle and adjusting the blankets to make you comfortable. He returns with a tray of food, carefully balancing it in his hands as he sets it down on your lap.

"Dinner is served," Minho announces with a smile, his eyes warm with affection as he watches you eat. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

And just like that, Minho becomes your personal caretaker, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. He brings you meals, helps you with your exercises, and even reads to you when you're feeling restless.

In the quiet moments between meals and exercises, you catch glimpses of a side of Minho that he rarely shows. His usual cool demeanor softens as he tends to your needs, his touch gentle and his voice filled with tenderness.

Despite his outwardly stoic nature, his actions speak volumes about the depth of his love for you. You see it in the way he carefully adjusts the pillows under your head, in the way he sits by your side, holding your hand as you rest.

You watch how he reaches for a tube of muscle cream from the bedside table, his movements deliberate and gentle. With practiced care, he unscrews the cap and squeezes a small amount onto his fingertips.

He begins to apply the cream to your injured ankle, his touch firm yet tender. He starts with slow, circular motions, his fingers working the cream into your skin with a gentle pressure. With each stroke, you can feel the tension in your muscles easing, the warmth of the cream soothing the ache in your ankle.

There's a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before, a rawness that speaks of the pain he feels seeing you in discomfort. It's as if every ache in your body is mirrored in his heart. And though he may not always express his emotions in words, his actions speak louder than any declaration of love ever could.

"Minho," you say softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You really don't have to do all this."

His gaze meets yours, a mixture of surprise and concern flickering in his eyes. "But Y/N," he begins, his voice filled with sincerity, "I want to take care of you. You mean everything to me kitten, and seeing you in pain..." he trails off. " I just want to make it better."

You smile softly, but beneath the surface, guilt gnaws at you persistently. "Baby," you continue, "I can't help but feel guilty for taking up so much of your time. You have shows to prepare for, comebacks to plan, dances to choreograph... and the kids need you."

Minho's eyes soften as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity, "you are my priority right now. Yes, I have other commitments, but none of them are as important as making sure you're okay."

You feel a lump form in your throat at his words. "But," you protest weakly, "you shouldn't have to sacrifice so much for me."

His gaze meets yours, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Y/N, you're not just 'me.' I can't bear to see you in pain, and I'll do everything in my power to make it better. I'll move mountains to take that pain away because you're more than just important to me; you're everything."

You feel Minho's arms enveloping you in a warm embrace, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions swirling within you. His lips press gently against your forehead, a tender gesture that sends shivers down your spine.

"I wish I could take all the pain away," he murmurs, his voice soft with longing. "I wish I could carry it instead of you."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and compassion. "Minho," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion, "Just having you here with me... it means everything."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the pain and uncertainty, you know that with Minho by your side, you can weather any storm.

"I love you," you murmur, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. "I love you more than words can say."

His hold tightens around you, his heartbeat echoing in sync with yours. "I love you too, kitten" he murmurs, his voice a gentle promise. "More than you'll ever know."

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[denzartriste]

Bedrock bros drawing based on this stock photo provided by @epicaxolotls

Alt versions + closeup + talking a LOT under cut about this drawing <3

^ this is technicly the original version, but i really liked the tinted effect i slapped on last minute so thats the one im putting above the cut.

v Crashed my drawing app when doing these effects, it was so worth it look its shiny. Im a simple man i see shiny i eat my own art

v Closeups!!!

The rambling is lightly edited from me blabbing about this drawing in a discord server, so if it's very 'steam of conscious' it is because i was literally texting these thoughts

Okay so the BRAIDS. The braids in it are IMPORTANT okay they are they are

The designs aren't timeline consistent, because i was doing the drawing for me and also @epicaxolotls and both of us solely care about the fact there is bedrock bros and nothing else. So the white in Tommy's hair (THE PART THAT'S BRAIDED!!!) is from being revived.

But Techno doesn't have a braid in his hair, only Tommy. The Blade is a weapon, not something to be cherished and cared for and loved. Braids as a form of love, braid as a love language i will not take criticism because I'm so correct about this. The white in Tommy's hair being the part that's braided, also, that's surely something isn't it that's something that is SOMETHING.

Techno braiding the white part in Tommy's hair, it will still be in the corner of his eye but it will be wrapped in love. It will have bedrock dangling from it. The bedrock is on Tommy's braid because it is a symbol between the two of them, it's something gentle but strong held up by string and neither of them will let the string snap. They won't let is snap.

Techno's bedrock is on his sword - it's on his method of violence, the method of violence Tommy is CALLING ON!!! The violence Tommy is COUNTING ON the violence he is using to protect himself. The sword is made of marble (because it looks cool but ALSO--) Techno's violence is a PROMISE it is a swear an oath from a blood god who will not break it.

No matter what, Techno will be the blade he needs to be. He is as much of a weapon as the tool in his hand.

No matter what. He scars and bleed cold, before he even makes the first swing the sword is covered in gold it is dripping it is his

The words 'BLADE' is intertwined with his sword, the word is golden and blends into it

Mentioning this now, but the only colours in the drawing (if i don't count the effects i did that was just me having some fun with it and crashing my drawing app) is only two colours, red and gold. Tommy's bruises are a shade of magenta, the grey is a desaturated red, the whites are just a very light shade of red

It's something i thought a lot about while drawing so i did want to mention it in more detail than just the id

ALSO. Tommy is wearing Techno's crown, and Tommy is also pretty much in the position a crown would be on Techno's head (if you squint a bit)

He's also holding onto Techno's ear - I didn't draw it very well, but he is, he's using Techno for stability, pushing against him with his foot to stay upright. And Techno is something solid for Tommy to dig his nails into, he is solid and he can and will be stability.

Tommy is just another voice in techno's ear, screaming blood for the blood god

And Tommy's pupils are just pinpricks, he isn't in control and he isn't calm. He's bruised and bloody, he is clinging onto the first thing he sees and trusts that it wont topple over. Tommy trusts because that is the only thing he can do, the only thing he can ever do. He's angry he's clinging on with his nails and teeth and blood but he is trusting.

NOW IM GONNA TALK ABOUT COLOURS AND THE COLOURS I USED BECAUSE :D!!!

Techno has dark red colours - Very dark, dark as in the colour of a lot of blood. A river flowing with blood would be near black and that is what Techno is. He is an endless stream of bloodshed he is an endless steam of violence because that is all he is. That is all he is, in this moment, at least, but this moment is all that matters right now. Right now, he is the blood god and he is the blade. He's a sword about to be stained and constantly being sharpened because he needs to be.

He NEEDS to be blood and he's ALWAYS been blood and he doesn't ENJOY being blood, no, he walked away from everyone to avoid it but for tommy!! He'll be that for Tommy because Tommy NEEDS him to be (<- that paragraph is from Epic but it was very accurate)

BUt ALSO Techno has light colours too. Not as obvious as Tommy's light colours (his shirt, his shoes, his hair) but it is still THERE. It's just hidden. The white, not stained (protected) in the inside of his cape near to his heart. Because Techno's heart is gentle but he has to fight to keep it like that, the outside of his heart (heart=cape just go with it this is the metaphor I'm going with it doesn't make sense but also shhh sure it does) is DARK it is VIOLENT

Inside his heart (cape. again. silly metaphor but its fine) he is the Blade - the letters reveal themselves with his cape blowing in his wind

I dont know what any of these words mean but maybe they mean something idk :D

ONTO TOMMY'S COLOURS v

hehe okay sooo Tommy has lighter red. Still very clearly red, but the cape he has is an imitation of Techno and it isn't nearly as stained. His cape doesn't hide anything, it doesn't hide him, its short and also the lightest obviously-red colour there is in the drawing. On him is also the only actual depiction of red blood and fresh injuries. He is BRUISED his pants are ripped and at the edges there is still-fresh blood. He's wiped the blood off of him he tried. but all he did was spread it from his nose to his knuckles. He is not violent but this makes him look violent, and it wasn't on purpose. Dripping from his head is blood, again, and all of it is his. He has a fresh bruise around his eye and the only bandage to the dripping blood from his head is Techno's crown. That is the closest thing to care he has right now - later, he will get bandages, but to him care is a symbol of blood. To him, care is Technoblade's sword and he doesn't view the bedrock around his braid as gentle in anyway, he views it as a rock that is special and the string is weak but it wont break because Techno tied it there, and that means it won't break. It means it can't break.

On Tommy is Techno's crown. Because Techno views him as an equal and is letting Tommy command him in this battle, because this is Tommy's fight. This is Tommy's fight, and Techno gives him his crown with trust on his gold-scarred hands and care and a promise that he will be there and fighting by his side. He believes in him, not because he needs to but because he does. He holds him steady because he just does and he acts as a weapon because that is what he does.

Ight that's all :) If anyone reads this far they have my hand in marriage and whatnot, adding tags then hitting post without rereading <3

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 8 - "Why won't it stop?"

Yue Qi, suffering alone in the Lingxi Caves.

[dancers-7]

BLAME! by Tsutomu Nihei

[mlimby]

Okay this is da last one

I put tw: injury in da tags but i comment it just in case now