#sweet caretaker

[aspergirl2022]

You see the serie "Cells at work" ?

You see the macrophages ?

Well imagine a Caretaker like this.

Caretaker covered in blood, with a bloody chainsaw (or any mortal tools), smiling/giggling while fighting Whumper and reassuring Whumpee that everything is under control.

That’s the kind of deadly Caretaker I want to see!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Talia found Yasmin's hide out only two days after the bomb.

It wasn't easy. Yasmin had hidden herself well - her monthly reports had never mentioned an acquaintanceship with Vladimir Masters, the absolute gall of that girl - in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. She bypassed the few security measures with ease, eventually finding her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, hyperventilating.

"What happened?" Talia's voice was cold and demanding.

"The-" Yasmin gasped before stealing herself. "The Fentons are dead."

"I know the Fentons are dead." Talia circled the girl. "One split navel to throat, the other strangled. What. Happened?"

"The Fentons discovered their son was a Meta. Specifically, they thought he had been replaced with the extradimentional species they study." She took a deep breath. "By the time I had discovered their actions, Daniel was... dissected on a table."

Talia closed her eyes. She knew from Yasmin's reports that she'd been acting as the Fenton child's primary caretaker since her adoption and a fondness had developed. "Yasmin-"

"Don't, Mother." She snapped. "Don't act like this is anything less than a tragedy."

"I know-"

"He was a child-"

"Everything's been taken care of," Talia said. "As far as the authorities are concerned, Jasmine Fenton died in that explosion you caused. You need to return now-"

"No!" Yasmin bolted to her feet, glaring at Talia. "He's dead, Mother! An innocent child, the child I raised as my own, is dead because I couldn't protect him! Don't you dare try to sweep this under the rug like... like Danny was something shameful! I'm not leaving! I have to-"

Time Out.

Yasmin shut her mouth mid-sentence, giving Talia time to convince her off her self-destructive path.

"What happened to Daniel is a tragedy, Yasmin. But wallowing in grief and what-ifs only leads to further pain." Talia sighed. "The Fentons and the research you were so fascinated with are gone now. You made sure of that. It's time for you to return home and put that knowledge to use."

Yasmin stared down at her hands. Odd that Talia hadn't noticed, but Yasmin's hands cradled a small, dark blue jewel, polished into a smooth, oblong oval. It glittered under the candlelight, like stars in the sky.

Yasmin swallowed the rock and spoke, refusing to acknowledge what she'd just done. "You are right, Mother. The time of Jasmine Fenton is gone now." She stared straight at Talia, no trace of fear in her gaze. For a moment, Talia wondered where her child had gone. Yasmin never met her eyes unless prompted to when she was growing up. Now she was met with a younger version of herself with cheap dyed-red hair, with the same level of determination that made Talia the Right Hand of the Demon Head. "I will mourn for Danny... on my own time. For now, what is my mission?"

Talia studied her daughter. There was a reason why she'd hidden the girl so far out of the way of her Father and her son. Yasmin was a strong fighter, but had her father's heart, despite her willingness to kill. She'd always reminded Talia of a bodyguard rather than an assassin, but Yasmin wanted to go her own way, wanted to study everything. For years, Talia had indulged her daughter, but now it was time for her to return to the fold.

"For the next month, you will be training to remove any weakness the Fentons may have left in you. After that, you will be guarding an ally for me."

"Which ally?"

"A boy a few years older than you, a son of the Bat." Yasmin didn't react to the mention of her father. Good. "His mind is infirm, but by the time you finish your training, he will be ready to strike a blow against Gotham. You will act as his guard during his training and act as my spy while he's in Gotham. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Yasmin's hand brushed her stomach before she forced her fists to her sides. "Yes, Mother. I will do as you ask."

[whump-galaxy]

The Villain finds their Sidekick in an awful state. Half dead, breathing shallower and shallower breaths. They cradle their Sidekick, terrified of attempting to seek medical treatment. What if the authorities don’t treat Sidekick’s injuries? What if they just arrest the both of them? What if they leave the Sidekick to die?

They nearly jump out of their skin at the hand on their shoulder. It’s the Hero’s Sidekick. Having witnessed what the Hero did, they abandoned their team.

Now they want to help.

[bamsara]

Hey chief you've been sitting on the new chapter for a while what's the current word count? (also crumb? little crumb for us perhaps?)

I have about 70k worth of draft written but thats DRAFT and incoherent rambling so not an actual idea of the chapter word count, but since I've been talking about SL Monty latley I think it's fair to throw these here

[feverflushed]

When the whumpee is really, REALLY out of it with a high fever, and it's making them really worried and anxious, so their partner has to reassure them, explaining every little thing they're doing to whumpee.

"I'm going to put a nice cold towel on your head, honey, it's going to feel really pleasant."

"You can't keep lying in those sweat drenched bedsheets. I'm going to change them for you, okay? Fresh, dry sheets feel so much better."

"I'm going to give you a little sponge bath, alright? Just some lukewarm water and a soft sponge..."

"Are you tired, love? I'll dim the lights for you so you can take a nap. And it'll help with your headache."

"I'm going to take your temperature again, dear, we need to keep an eye on that fever of yours... I know that the thermometer feels really cold, but bear with me for a moment...."

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[pygmi-cygni]

Cold Feet - sickfic w joel miller

@chaithetics this is for you! xox feel better

cw: general injury/sickness recovery fic, nothing graphic but mentions of nausea, pain, dizziness, fainting, cute stuff idk, not really established relationship but joel be crushin fr fr

The dingy wallpaper swam in lazy eddies. You'd been laying on the couch, curled in the fetal position for hours, staring listlessly at the badly stained floral walls. The faded roses and lilies were swaying in an imaginary wind, fluttering in the woozy aftereffects of the pain meds.

It had only been an hour since your last dose, but you still felt like a rusted knife had ripped through your abdomen. A combination of a bad knife wound and the subsequent infection had incapacitated you for all of yesterday and today. If you had any rational thought, you'd be bored stupid. Instead, you were just drugged stupid.

Honestly, not much of a difference.

After staggering home from the med tent, you laid your meds, water, and two tureens of watery broth. That way, you didn't have to stumble to the kitchen every time you got hungry. Though even turning over to fumble with the pill bottle set fire to your belly.

The darkness of sleep sucked your mind into nothing as you blissfully lost consciousness.

Shhp. Shhhhp. Shhhh-

the sliding of something across your floor stirred your syrupy mind. Wincing as bright sunlight stabbed your aching head, you tried to focus blearily on the figure in front of you.

He - you assumed - was dressed in heavy clothes and grunting like a wounded bear.

"Joel?" Your voice sounded hideous, creaking like the wind in the trees. His familiar mop of curls startled, and he turned to look at you. He looked mildly ashamed, you thought, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Hey, sugar," he rasped, pausing what he was doing to limp over. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

You tried to raise your head but another sludgy wave of pain forced you to mash your face in the cushions. A pathetic whimper was muffled by the corduroy.

"You look a little rough, honey," he said, stooping to brush the hair from your face. You flinched a little at the sudden contact, sparks lighting at the point of contact.

Joel soothed an apology and went to close the blinds. "Tommy said you were down for the count, so I thought I'd stop by," he said hoarsely, blessedly dimming the light to darkness. You sagged with relief. Joel's soothing drawl rambled about his day while he sick-proofed your little room; placing a metal bowl for easy reach, grabbing a blanket from the adjacent bedroom, and replacing your water with fresh, cool water.

"Let me," he whispered, carefully maneuvering you into the sitting position so you could have some slow sips of broth. The movement made your chest throb, and you huffed in pain. A soothing hand stroked your hair. You could smell him, woodsy and warm on his flannel. Trembling from the roiling pain of your wound, you tucked yourself against his broad chest. Joel took the hint, and gently placed a pill in your open mouth.

You felt a little embarrassed, being this dependent on him to do something as simple as drink soup. You tried to voice your apology, but your weak state jumbled the sentence into slurred mumbles. Joel shushed you, rubbing your shoulder.

"'S alright," he murmured, "happy to help." Easing a drink of blissfully cool water down your throat, he gently lifted you and headed towards your bedroom. The light bouncing made you wince, but the soft brushed of his lips on your hair eased any discomfort.

"You'll feel better on a real bed."

You groaned weakly when your head hit the pillow. Joel tucked the sheets and blankets all the way to your chin, eyes soft and worried. "You been out a while, huh, baby?"

At your weak agreement he nodded and continued to smooth his hand over your sweaty brow.

"We'll fix ya up, don' worry about it," he assured, kissing the tears from your cheeks.

Lighting a sweet-smelling candle, he murmured a goodnight and left for evening patrol.

Hours later, he came trudging back. The gentle creak of the wardrobe as he hung up his jacket and rifle roused you, but only slightly. His warm touch and the feeling of his chest against your back rolled you right back under.

[graceful-not]

*grabs you* if the members of the found family aren't at least a little bit fucked up about each other what's even the point man. if the lines aren't even a little bit blurred when it comes to roles what's the point. buddy. pal. what's even the point of having a found family and then imposing strict nuclear family roles unto them, or never allowing the roles they do have to be bent or broken. what's even the point if one character (assuming they're the same age) is ALWAYS being taken care of by the other without it being related to one of their arcs. what's even the point if the found family doesn't take care of each other. what's even the point if they're normal about having people they are so so close to so as to trust with nearly everything and stick with and sweat bleed and die for. what's even the point if the roles arent flexible and based on a foundation of trust over any kind of imposed relationship, and the dynamics shift for what is needed in the situation. what's even the point if they're not a little bit in love about it. they need to LOVE EACH OTHER. what's the point if they are being kept at a distance the same to that of an acquaintance and it's not part of their greater arc or bc of their character. let them sleep together. let them cuddle. let them kiss (not necessarily romantically!!! on the forehead or the hand or a little peck on the top of a head). I'm so sick of sanitized found families I need them to care about each other so much it hurts they need to think about the others way too much do you get it. I don't want it to be a replacement for a real family I want them to Frankenstein together a new creation it needs to be elevated it needs to be bleeding and raw it needs to be REAL I want it to be ALIVE. WHY are your found family dynamics so fucking DEAD!!!! STOP SHOVELLING ROTTING MEET INTO MY MOUTH I CAN TELL ITS DEAD I CAN FUCKING TELL WHEN ITS DIVIDED SO CLEARLY BY CARETAKER/WHUMPEE WHY IS IT SO ONE-WAY THE FAMILY TAKES CARE OF EACH OTHER THEY DONT NEED TO BE JUST ONE ROLE. A PERSON CAN BE A FATHER A MOTHER A MENTOR A TEACHER. A BROTHER AND FRIEND IN SOLIDARITY OR EVEN A LOVER IF IT IS NEEDED. DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET IT.

[hawnks]

Vampire who’s so excited to have a little human mate, he’s prepared everything for you, made a home for you both to live, gotten all the accruements ready. You’re doted on.

Like a beloved pet.

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

Okay so in the two Sonic movies there's some obvious parallels between the scene where Tom tucks Sonic in and where Sonic tucks Tails in:

They both look up, see their little guy having fallen fast asleep, and tuck them in.

Which is so utterly sweet and adorable.

But I just noticed parallels between Tom and Sonic's relationship and Sonic and Tails's relationship in another set of scenes as well. Namely, the one where their respective kid gets injured.

In the first movie, it's right after the truck chase scene where Robotnik's tank keeps producing smaller ones like an evil Russian nesting doll, the last one being a tiny bomb that sticks to Sonic and ends up blowing up and knocking him unconscious.

In the second one, it's on the snowy mountain where Knuckles and Sonic talk, but then things go south and Sonic tries to pass the compass to Tails, but Robotnik steals it and then knocks out Tails with a couple of rockets.

Just look at the parallels in the interactions and even the setup of these two scenes:

Tom and Sonic immediately call the kid's name

They rush to them and kinda cradle them, super concerned

Similar phrasing as they beg them to wake up

And then immediately they end up crashing into Rachel's life and taking over her house/wedding, where they get to Maddie to take care of their little guy.

I know Sonic's unconscious for the first one so there's no way he's purposely imitating Tom, but I just love to think that they're just so close that he's just picked up Tom's dad instincts and is imitating it without even knowing 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Sonic may be adopted but he really is his dad's kid.

[just-here-for-the-whump]

Endeavour 1x2 Fugue

[whumpster-dumpster]

Whumpee woken from a nap when Caretaker nestles a new little plushie into bed with them as a Get Better Soon Gift ❤️

[pcktknife]

chilchuck walked in that dungeon with 3 daughters and walked out with 4

[whump-galaxy]

Imagine a caretaker that’s just. A little bit off the rails. A few screws more than loose. They’re not mean or cruel, just exceedingly eccentric.

They’ll leap into fights with no abilities and still manage to win. They’ll save the “lost cause” prisoner just cause they can. Their miracle cures may not heal injuries, but they’re sure to bring your spirits up.

They have a glint in their eyes that the whumpee can’t help but admire, since that crazy bravery is what got them to safety.

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 13: What If?

What if Yuma accepted Melami and Pucci’s offers to help him to the infirmary?

[resuswhore]

I want to be in control, complete control, of my sickly lover whose heart is to weak and lungs to tired, their body over all being just far to fragile. I don't want to control them in your stock standard idea of control and domination that typically leans into darker elements like deprivation/punishment/etc. (cause while its not terrible, it just doesn't float my boat). no, I want to control them in a soft and caring manner; I want to control them because I want to keep them safe, to protect them from the world, to keep anyone from hurting them or tainting their already sick body.

I want to keep them tucked away somewhere, where the outside world can't hurt them, where I can be the only one their floaty eyes lay themselves on, where I am I the only one who sees their soft smiles and hears their gentle voice.

I want to keep him in a hospital-esque room, to keep him laid up in a hospital bed and in those pretty, baby blue hospital gowns, dwarfed by layers of thin blankets and soft white sheets. I want him entangled in lines and wires, constantly hooked up to a monitor, the soft beeping of the EKG filling the room. I want to be able to monitor every part of his being, I want to know about every beat of his heart, every breath his takes, everything.

I want to practically pounce on him every time his heart gets a little to so slow for my liking, straddling his bony hips (gonna make a post about how horny straddling makes me too), forcing a fraction of my weight into his brittle chest, locking my eyes on his as he gives into my care, head resting limply back on the pillow, his tired gaze cast through his lashes, as I control his most vital organ. I want to beg him to stay with me as I force his heart to beat faster and faster. I want to pump him full of morphine I dig more and more weight into his chest. I want him to offer me his lungs, letting me shove an airway down my throat, because as I much as I love to control and pleasure, he likes to give up and receive, letting me fill his lungs with my air, kissing his plump, pretty lips between each one.

I want to put him into long periods of bed rest where I have to do everything for him. I want to spend long days cuddling, listening to his heart, letting my hands rest over the small dip in his waist, feeling his ribs shift with each breath. I want to have to carry him around anywhere and everywhere he goes, even within his own room.

I want to use drugs to keep him at different degrees of haziness when his hearts too weak to support his consciousness, I want to use pacers when it refuses to pick up the pace, I want to keep him on oxygen so I know his lungs are getting all the air they can get. I want to hold his hands and promise him that I love him. I want to promise him that he's ok, because I'm here and I'm never gonna let him go.

I want to make him feel good on his good days, making his lashes flutter, alongside his heart, and pull sweet moans from his pretty chest. I want to repay him for how good he makes me feel. I want to fuck him until he can't think straight, till his heart can't take it, just so I can take care of him again.

all the while I want to be able to offer him time to have visitors, to leave the tranquil space I've created for him, and for him to not take up those offers, to want to stay with me and me only, to want to show me off, to show off how protective and loving I am on those rare occasions we do break from the norm. I want him to always have this gentle look in his eyes, to be in a constant state of submission, because he knows he doesn't have to fight for himself, that I'll do it for him, that I'll do all the hard work, his just has to lay there and look pretty, a knowing smile on his soft, kiss swollen lips.

I want that my life goal, my livelihood, my purpose; to take care of him, to keep him alive and happy and safe, to be his protector, to keep his heart beating no matter how badly it wants to stop. that would be the absolute dream.