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elitadream · 2 months

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Seeing as your not feeling well here’s a little concept for you: on the rare occasions Mario is sick, like really sick, like “can’t hide it, no matter how much I want to to prevent my loved ones from worrying” kind of sick. Luigi will take care of him throughout the entire day, when Mario protests that he doesn’t want to get him sick, that he should stay away, Luigi refuses and says that he’s taken care of him all his life, it’s only natural that he do that same for him.

He helps his brother to the bathroom, rubs his back when nausea over takes him, sits by him when his brothers dreams become nightmares that holding his hand, running his fingers through his hair, holding him close at one point when Mario’s emotions become to much for him to contain (as everyone’s do when they are sick, you kinda can’t help but just cry) doing all the things Mario’s done for him when he’s been sick.

And when Mario finally feels better, wakes you up late three days later, the haze finally clearing from his mind, the sun peaking through the window. He gets up and finds Luigi not in their bedroom but in the kitchen making him a very light breakfast.

“Lu?” He asks

“Oh! Mario!” Luigi’s smile is blinding, “You’re up! Thank goodness! How are you?”

Mario’s silent for a moment, eyes stinging, unable to contain himself as he hugs Luigi out right. His heart unable to fully say how grateful he was to his brother, how deeply his love ran for him.

Thank you. He thinks, hugging his brother tighter. Thank you

He heard Luigi sniffle, letting out a wet laugh, hugging him back just as tightly. “You’re welcome Fratellone.”

AW that is sweeeet 🥹💚

I wholeheartedly share the headcanon that Mario would always try his best to hide the fact that he's hurting (be it due to a sickness, a physical wound or plain emotional anguish) and that Luigi would always see right through him regardless. I also love to imagine that despite him being very mild-tempered, Luigi can be surprisingly firm and persuasive when need be!

Tending to Mario would be as natural and instinctive to him as breathing. He would do it with flawless thoughtfulness and familiarity everytime, knowing exactly what to prepare and in what order. While they're both caregivers at heart, I've always seen Mario as more of a protector with diligent but slightly clumsy bedside manners, whereas for Luigi it's the opposite - meaning he isn't much of a fighter, but is however an exceptional helper.

He would be happy to care for his big brother. It would be his own way of showing his love and gratitude, and he would do it tirelessly until Mario is fully healed. The image of him waking up to find that Luigi made him breakfast is so wholesome, I absolutely love it! And the hug! ;-; 💞

Thank you for the adorable concept. I really enjoyed reading it. ☺️💫

#asks #mario #luigi #family #brothers #sickness #caregiving #concept #headcanon #thoughts and ramblings

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spankingtheatre · 28 days

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Strictness Simplifies

There's an epiphany that comes from realising things feel better when you're given permission.

Initially a firm No might feel like a moment of disappointment, but it's followed by an even deeper sense of satisfaction. You appreciate someone else is looking out for you, one who knows what's truly best for you.

Their strictness doesn't feel like petty policing, it's actually strangely arousing. It makes you imagine being told to stand up straight, and having your panties pulled right down. Strictness makes you think of hairbrushes and canes, and all the other ways of smacking bums. Of control and consequences. That's why strictness turns you on.

Permission is hot. You adore their stern voice and their certainty. Their interventions rescue your overstimulated mind, and instructions make the world make sense. They grant you the precious freedom not to think.

Without their guidance, you know deep down you're just a very silly little girl or boy. Lost and adrift in a big bad world.

It's liberating to no longer have your mind confused with difficult options. To be given the gift of simplicity. To follow the path laid by someone you love and respect.

How many of your fantasies begin: "Please make all my decisions for me, so I only have to worry about being good for you."

#permission #strictness #calmness #discipline #loving discipline #caregiving

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feverwhump · 1 year

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Whumpee is at an evening event they can’t get out of and starts to feel increasingly sick. They’ve got chills to the point of shivering and the tickle in their throat has settled into a persistent soreness. Whumpee’s exhausted, but they can’t leave, so they start texting their significant other/caretaker that they think they have a fever with a list of their symptoms. The night goes on, and as new symptoms begin to arise, the keep caretaker updated. Once the night ends and they’re finally able to get home, their caretaker is up waiting with comfy clothes, a thermometer, and medicine.

#fever whump #fever #sickfic #sicknario #whump #whump prompt #sickfic scenarios #sick whump #caretaker #whumpee #caregiving #fever whump will always be top tier #I wrote this in under 3 minutes please don’t judge

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madonnanera · 7 months

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What is art? Art is anything that is crafted with unique skill, intuition, and precision. It is a devoted interest. It is deeply selfish and selfless to be an artist. To be the bearer of creation. Understanding naturally the creative power of destruction. These beings are graced through the inevitable destructions that come in life. Through their lens of creation-there is always more to give. In every change, the change is a gift. Something to be inspired by- to communicate back so eloquently. Artists are humanitarians. They feel and express universal messages that vibrate and tend to the connection to higher realms. They are the instigators of truth.

Your art is the worst of you put to skill and made with love.

#spsp #words #artists #esoteric art #energy #creation #spilled words #caregiving #artist support

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lavideenrose · 2 years

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When children feel pervasively angry or guilty or are chronically frightened about being abandoned, they have come by such feelings honestly; that is because of experience. When children are filled with rage, it is due to rejection or harsh treatment. When children experience intense inner conflict regarding their angry feelings, this is likely because expressing them may be forbidden or even dangerous. When children must disown powerful experiences they have, this creates serious problems including ‘chronic distrust of other people, inhibition of curiosity, distrust of their own senses and the tendency to find everything unreal.’ The long term effects of brutalization and neglect in caregiving relationships are the body and brain experiencing PTSD.

From The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk

#quote #the body keeps the score #trauma #depression #anxiety #anger #guilt #fear #abandonment #they have come by such feelings honestly #disowning powerful experiences creates serious problems #repression #emotional repression #neglect #emotional neglect #ptsd #caregiving

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fortheloveofdeaddove · 2 months

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Sitting with mom in the hospital. I went no contact for a couple years so this isnt my usual gig.

This is hard for me specifically (not that it wouldn't be hard for anyone) because mom is a narcissist and was abused by her parents. I'm only just now in my late 30s understanding that many of my emotional deficits stem from this. An unreliable, unstable mother. Which I now am. Not as much as she was, but I really wish I had completely eradicated all generational curses rather than just mitigated damage on my daughter.

It's a uniquely selfish feeling to watch someone suffer so acutely but wish they'd just get their shit together, drop the act, and be your mom.

She had a left frontal craniotomy 4 years ago, and years before that the seizures had severely impacted her cognitive abilities. Before that she was operating as a defacto single mother of 5 (my dad was so helpful he may as well not been there) with limited financial, emotional, mental, and intellectual resources. She raised me via guilt (alternately the golden child and black sheep).

I often think about how much suffering I'm creating as my own daughter's inheritance, and occasionally the thought that takes me after that has to do with how her children might someday turn out. Partly it's melancholy - just as I wish I'd been perfect for my daughter, I am sad about the impact my failings will have even further down the line.

Then I wonder if she'll have kids. Maybe not. I'm not in love with that idea, but the important thing is that my opinion of it one way or another will not influence the decisions she makes for herself. I will not allow it. That's one curse I will NOT pass down. She won't have kids because I pressure her.

Then again, she may not have kids. I don't like to admit it, but that's probably for the best. The women in my family haven't made good mothers. We just haven't. I wonder how far back you'd have to go in our lineage to find one.

I don't count. My bipolar disorder isn't effectively managed and I've expressed suicidal ideation in front of my child several times. Not every day, but more than the fingers on one hand. No matter what points I score or whatever terrible abuses I manage NOT to inflict, you cannot describe a mother like that as "good".

I have to be at peace with that. I'm working on it.

For now I just hope this hospital can get us through this process as quickly as possible.

#mental health #caregiving #caretaker #no contact #parents #mothers

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catt-marp · 7 months

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Zoroark Story (Part of a Medical Anthology)

My grandmother had suffered from severe dementia for years. The disease had rapidly worsened over the last couple of months, so I went to visit her in her nursing home in Nacrene City. After the staff allowed me inside, I started walking toward her room when I heard a sound I never expected; the voice of my deceased grandfather. I rushed down the hall at that sound, thinking I must have imagined it. Turning the corner and walking up to the correct door, my brain caught up and remembered my grandma’s oldest partner.

Peeking around the corner slowly revealed an elderly man with a thin mop of gray hair standing at the bedside of an elderly woman wearing large circular glasses who rested peacefully; my grandfather and grandmother.

“Horace, you need to head out to the store and pick up all the things written down on the list, got it? We got that bake sale coming up, after all.”

She spoke with a strength I had not heard in ages.

“Of course, love. Is there anything else you need?” Horace asked in response. Spoken in a voice I had not heard in a decade.

“No, dear, but aren’t the flowers lovely today? Such brilliant shades of purple! We should have Jane over to see how well they’ve bloomed, don’t you think?”

There were flowers, an innumerable amount in the room, collected regularly from the countless lives this woman touched and set out by her loving family. Horace sat down in a chair at the far end of the room provided for visiting family members and placed his hand on hers.

“Yes, my dear, they are quite lovely. Let me sit with you for a bit and then I’ll head out for those groceries, okay?”

They both passed the time in companionable silence while I stood outside the door awkwardly, unsure if I should walk in or not. She stirred a few minutes later and turned to look at where my grandfather was sitting.

“Bridget? It’s been ages! How’ve you been, girl?”

Bridget was a lifelong friend of my grandmother and another person who, last I remembered, had been dead for decades. As if to scoff at that idea, my grandfather’s visage disappeared in a whirl of light, replaced with the body of a much younger woman. My grandmother did not seem surprised at all at this sudden change, only waiting for a response with a soft smile on her face.

“Oh, Millie, I’ve missed you too!” a light feminine voice said in response.

They continued for some time with idle chit-chat and gossip of neighbors no longer present. This included areas in town much further developed and changed than either of the two could have known.

The conversation dragged on for some time before another comfortable silence filled the air. The younger woman continued to sit at the bedside while the older woman seemed to doze off. A ways away from Bridget, standing just outside the doorway, I tried to focus on Bridget's face. I imagined a series of complex emotions playing across her face; fear, sadness, hope, joy, despair, comfort. I blinked my eyes, turned away for a second, and looked back. All I saw this time was love. Simply love.

My grandmother jolted a bit as a sleep jerk awakened her from her doze. She turned her head a bit to look around as if lost in her surroundings, unsure. But then her eyes lit up.

“Trixie, my dear! How’d you get out of your ball, my love?”

It was like a firework went off with how excited Bridget looked upon hearing that name. Not even a tenth of a second passed before light once again filled the room and where a woman once sat, a Zoroark now stood. The Zoroark bounced in the seat before settling down near the head of the bed, planting kisses on my grandmother’s forehead and cuddling up with her while being as gentle and caring as possible.

Trixie, of course it was Trixie. I knew the moment I saw my grandfather, but confirmation was still reassuring. The Zoroark was old, not as old as my grandmother, who started her journey later in life with her Zorua in her late 20s, but the age was showing. Her hairs were thin, with some of the black transitioning to a darker gray. Tricky though she may be, the fox was my grandmother’s oldest and closest partner. And here she was, doing what she did throughout her whole life, bringing love and joy to her best friend in the world.

My thoughts of their journey and the stories grandma told me played through my head when I noticed the fox looking up from the bed directly at me, finally picking up my scent a little better in her base form. The look was quizzical, but not all that surprised, before she spun back to my grandmother.

I stepped away from leaning in and sat in the hallway to wait, giving them their moment. It was rare, I heard, for my grandmother to recognize the fox nowadays. If only she knew. The pain was clear enough for the old fox.

She didn’t want to leave my grandmother’s side, but she was still a proficient battler who could support a Gym or a family member well. Initially, she had difficulty taking care of herself during the more severe episodes at the beginning of my grandmother’s worsening condition. My family worked out a deal with the nursing home that allowed her more frequent visits and allowances, given her gifts and abilities.

The noise of a clearing throat startled me out of my reverie and I glanced up to see a younger woman again. Not Bridget, though. Bridget had light brown hair and brown eyes and appeared in her twenties in the room. This woman had long black hair, teal colored eyes, and a bangle tied into her hair near the base of her head, with the rest flowing down past her hips. She appeared middle-aged and looked at me with friendly eyes, a set of bags under each.

She moved again when I noticed her and sat down on the ground next to me, turning to chat.

“How long have you been here, Samantha?” she asked naturally, the Zoroark’s human disguise a perfect replica she had used for decades.

“Only about 15 minutes; startled me a bit when I heard grandpa before I realized…” I trailed off feeling awkward. It wasn’t like Trixie was doing anything wrong. Well, maybe, I didn't know. Don't know how I would have reacted if I heard and saw myself in the room.

She seemed to pick up on my feelings, though, and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry if I scared you, and I’m sorry if that upsets anyone else in the family. I understand how that can be frustrating to hear, only…” she said as she lifted her fist up and tightened it in front of her.

“I fought so hard for her, Sammy. She did the same for me, and we took care of each other for years. Thick and thin, humans like to say. That was us.”

She pounded her fist to her chest, as if in confirmation of that fact.

She paused for a second before she continued, “I noticed something off the past couple of years before some of her caretakers explained it to me. To lose the ability to know who you are…you humans have it rough. And so do I.”

She looked down at her fake human legs and sighed. I glanced at her face again and noticed moisture appearing at the edges of her eyes. Shock rocked through me. I had never seen Trixie cry before. I leaned into her and placed a hand on her leg in support.

Trixie jumped a bit, not expecting that physical support. She must get a lot less of it now with everything that happened. I felt her lean into me in response, and I saw a small smile on her face before it fell away.

“She deserves the world, Sammy. That and more. It isn’t fair that she has to lose it all yet still BE here. It doesn’t make any sense! Even with it explained to me over and over again, it makes me angry again and again,” she said, her frustration plain with the rise in volume of her words. “She did everything right and still– still , it came to this!”

Tears fell liberally from her face after those words escaped her mouth. I sat with her as long as she needed, a soul in need of love and comfort as much as my grandmother resting silently in her own room.

“I will continue to do what I must, Sammy. As much as my body allows, as much as can be accommodated. Millie deserves my support. And if she sees her grandpa or one of her old neighbors or a random mailman? I will be whoever she needs.”

She moved to stand up and supported me while I did the same. She looked at me, determination clear in her eyes.

“And when Millie sees Trixie, the Zoroark? I will bring the energy of a fox she remembers from our life together. And I will revel in it for as long as I still can. We both deserve that, don’t you think?”

She asked that last part with a smile on her face, the tears dried. I smiled as well. Who could resist, when you knew without any doubt your grandmother had her greatest protector and friend at her side in her time of need?

“Do you want to go see her now? I will support you in any way I can, and give you the time and space you deserve as well, Sammy,” she said.

I nodded in answer as she followed with a flash and transformed back into her natural Zoroark form. Ready to assist and support, as always. She could fill the role of anyone my grandmother needed, but I knew all my grandmother ever needed was the fox. As we walked into the room, I vowed to make sure Trixie had the same love and support from myself and my family that she gave to our family her entire life when her own time came. It was only right, after all.

#pokemon #oc #Zoroark #medical #dementia #caregiving

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bucky-cg · 7 months

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some youtube channels for littles!!

i know it can be hard to find youtube channels for young, but not toddler aged littles. here's some we watch

channel, content, age range

royalty soaps, mostly craft and soap-making content, e for everyone!

rachel maksy, crafting/DIY/fashion! like 13+? some adult jokes, but not too many.

safiya nygaard, traveling/DIY/generally silly content, 13+ (some adult jokes but nothing you dont see on tv nowadays)

evan and katelyn, crafting, DIY, home renovation sometimes. most ages fine, some mildly adult jokes but not many.

watcher, ghost hunting, food, mysteries and urban legend sort of content. meant for teens and adults :) my favorite channel!

moonlight jewel, beautiful doll customs! e for everyone

dollightful, another very popular doll customizer, e for everyone

doll motion, doll customs, but also has a stop motion series. i haven't seen that, but the doll videos are e for everyone as far as i've seen.

moonkitti, warrior cats youtuber! talks about the books, a fanclan, and does speedpaints!

that's all for now. if you'd like more, feel free to send me an ask for more specific channels! thank you for reading.

#sfw agere #sfw interaction only #agere #petre #sfw petre #pet regressor #age regression #pet regression #age regressor #warriors #kidcore #caregiving #agere caregiver #petre caregiver #diy

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sweaterkittensahoy · 6 months

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Hey, btw, if you're 40 and your parents are still in your life, you should spend some time figuring out how much personal caregiving you want to do for them.

My grandma took care of my great-grandparents, a great aunt, and two ailing husbands. She wants to go into a nursing home if she is ever unable to live on her own.

My mom wants to care for her even though grandma specifically does not want her to do that because grandma's lived it and doesn't want to put that work on anyone.

Nothing but respect for grandma. She chose to take on a full-time caretaking role several times. That's a fucking lot. I don't want to do that.

My mom, on the other hand, really wants one of the kids to take care of her. And, by extension, Dad. But. No. God no. Not for anything. Dad starts doctor visits by announcing he doesn't like being told what to do, and Mom literally ignored increasing hip pain for several decades while her hip joint went through bone death.

Mom also thinks my aunt asking for help in caregiving my grandmother when her eye sight started getting bad was my aunt being selfish. Which tells me a lot about how much of my time she expects to have (all of it).

No fucking way am I taking responsibility for these people in their golden years. I will vet caregivers and discuss housing options and provide support if there's serious medical shit.

For fuck's sake, Dad's got COPD and still smokes.

Anyway, like I said, if you're 40-ish, it's something you gotta consider. So, just consider it. It's one of those adulthood things that I think people forget until something big happens, and then you're making decisions while stressed and likely fearful, and that's not good for long-term plans.

#adulthood #caregiving #grown up shit

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jomiddlemarch · 13 days

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And thy mercy shall follow me

6. She woke at dawn.

She lay on her side, her face turned to the courtyard which was filling with the morning’s light. There was a perfect clarity in how it made everything which had been one in night become individual and beautiful in the way of ordinary things. She felt herself like the night’s shadows, a darkness without border, cold and alone. Bereft.

It was a terrible moment to wake and feel John was dead.

She sobbed, once, and swallowed the sound.

“Hush, my lady, all is well,” John said.

She was so startled, she could not move. And then she became aware she could not move because she was held in the circle of his arms, her head pillowed on one, the other wrapped around her. She held his hand in hers, clasped against her breast, their fingers laced together. It was a lovers’ embrace, one she had never shared with her husband, nor any man. He was alive and though warm, his fever had dropped and the hand that she held was steady.

“You are better,” she said. “The Lord has brought you through your crisis.”

“…though I shall go in the midst of shadow of death; I shall not dread evils, for thou art with me,” he said, the Portuguese slower than usual. He was trying to give her the feeling of the English words, how they rang in his mind. “Thou, Mariko, hast brought me through—”

“That is blasphemy,” she said. Aghast, she could not yet ignore the spark of joy within herself to be arguing with him again. The overwhelming sense of peace that came from lying with him and knowing him to be alive, to be still inviolably, himself.

“You already knew me to be a heretic,” he said. “I can’t see how this should trouble you any more than any other transgressions of mine.”

Mariko was silent.

Beneath her, she felt John’s arm become tense.

“You are not truly wroth, are you, Mariko-sama? I intended only to express my gratitude for what you have done for me. How much it meant to me to hear your voice through the pain and the terror. To feel your hands upon me, so gentle, when everything else hurt so greatly,” he said. She had never heard him sound shy before, never beseeching, vulnerable. She did not believe any man of her acquaintance would allow himself such openness with a woman who was not a courtesan, paid for pleasure and even more, discretion.

“I am not angry. I am not even as surprised as I ought to be,” she said. Their hands were still clasped, pressed against her bare skin as her robe had loosened in the night. She looked within herself for shame or dismay, could find nothing but relief. Gladness.

There was a tremendous comfort in being close to him and she would have to give it up.

Soon enough.

“Sugi will come in shortly, with a meal and tea,” she said. It was a warning, rendered in the most delicate fashion.

“And we should not be found thus,” he said, blunt and bold as before he’d fallen ill. Himself.

“No,” she said. “But a few moments remain.”

A few, little enough to satisfy. To live on.

“My cup runneth over,” he said.

#shogun 2024 #fx shogun #john x mariko #mariko-sama #mariko x john #toda mariko #john blackthorne #hurt/comfort #happy ending #so many Bible quotations #non-sexual intimacy #caregiving #soft!mariko #final chapter

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