content: aftermath of whump, recovery fic, comfort, nonsexual nudity, self-deprecation
Whumpee didn't realise just how disgusted they were with themself for the state they were in until they got to Caretaker's house. The house was clean and tidy — Whumpee was not. They were dirty, with greasy hair, pants soiled from fear and lack of access to a proper bathroom. They were disgusting.
But they didn't dare ask for a bath. They just stood in the doorway, afraid of dirtying their saviour's house, shifting their weight from one leg to the other.
"Come in," Caretaker said gently.
"I can't."
Caretaker furrowed their brows. "But we agreed I'd let you stay here. No?"
"Yeah, but..." They made a vague gesture towards themself, their dirty clothes, their revolting hair.
"Oh," Caretaker said, like they'd only just noticed. "That's a simple fix. I have fresh clothes for you, and you can take a nice, warm bath. You can use my bodywash and shampoo. That'll do, right?"
Whumpee nodded mutely. It was more than they deserved.
"Great," Caretaker said with a smile. "Come in, then. I'll show you to the bathroom."
"Ah, there's... There's one more... one more thing," they stammered, afraid to voice their concern.
"What is it?"
"My arms... Whumper kept me tied up most of the time. Now they hurt so bad, I don't think I can lift them to wash my hair..." It was embarrassing. Humiliating. But Caretaker didn't make fun of them for it.
"I can help you wash your hair, if that's okay with you," they offered easily.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I'm here to help."
Whumpee felt tears pricking their eyes. Caretaker was so nice. "Okay," they said quietly. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Let's go."
They agreed on the following plan: Whumpee would rinse themself off, then they would fill the bath with nice, warm water. Once they were ready, they'd call in Caretaker, who would help them wash their hair.
So Whumpee did that. The amount of dirt and grime flowing down the drain during that rinse was absolutely foul. But then, when they filled the bathtub with warm water and actually just... lay there... submerged... oh... that was heavenly. It had been so long since they'd taken a proper bath.
"Caretaker?" they called after a bit, once the bubbles seemed plentiful enough to cover their disgusting body.
"Can I come in?"
"Yes. Please."
Caretaker opened the door and stepped inside. They didn't make it weird. They grabbed a stool and pulled it to the end of the bathtub where Whumpee's head was, and sat down. "Okay, I'll be very gentle."
"I'm sorry you have to do this," they muttered.
"Nonsense. Just relax and enjoy. I've been told I give nice scalp massages."
So Whumpee shut up and let Caretaker work their magic. And man, yes, whoever said that had been absolutely right. Caretaker's fingers were gentle yet firm, and Whumpee closed their eyes, quietly enjoying. It felt like a guilty pleasure. Like they didn't deserve it — which yeah, they absolutely didn't. But Caretaker was so kind. So generous.
They jolted awake when Caretaker turned on the water from the showerhead. Had they dozed off?
"Oops, sorry," Caretaker said with a little laugh. "Did I scare you?"
"No, no, it's okay."
"Okay."
Caretaker shampooed and rinsed their hair twice, just to get everything out. Then, like they hadn't just performed a strangely intimate and wonderfully benevolent act, they just stood up, told Whumpee to take as much time as they needed, and left.
That was that. Whumpee was flabbergasted. They had never met anyone so... selfless.
They stayed in the bath for what felt like another hour, feeling the water around them grow cold. Then they got out, towelled themself dry, put their hair up in a towel-turban, and put on the fresh clothes Caretaker had laid out for them.
They felt... clean. Restored.
They stopped at the bathroom door, hand lingering on the handle. It was okay. They weren't in a rush. And Caretaker was kind. It was okay.
They pushed down and exited. They found Caretaker on the sofa in the living room.
"Whumpee!" they said with a smile. "You look so much better. Are you feeling better?"
"Yes," they said with a tentative smile. "Thank you. I... I haven't been this clean in months. This has been wonderful."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that. Wanna watch a movie while your hair dries?"
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There are fewer noticeable memory gaps than there used to be, but this still happens from time to time when life is rough.
It's not a total gap when this happens. It's more like a thick layer of haze and difficulty recalling that block of time without asking for inside help. Sometimes it's better to leave it be.
“I’m not a very good writer,” I say, and radishes grow out of my ears.
“I can’t sing,” I confess. The next time I open my mouth, I pluck a bright green lettuce leaf off the tip of my tongue.
“It’s a terrible drawing, really.” I try to cover my work with my hands, and before I know it, I’m crying apple slices.
As a child, I became convinced I had to bring vegetables wherever I went, otherwise I’d disappoint people. I never questioned my self-deprecating habits until my friends pointed out that my skin was forming corn grains and flaking off, leaving gaps behind my back and in my chest. I have to stop telling myself what I can’t do, especially when I actually can do it, but it’s difficult to remember how.
“I make an excellent salad,” I whisper to myself at last. Growth is a great place to start, and one day I may be whole once more.
—
[Image description: Photo of a salad on a white plate. The salad contains lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, corn, and apple slices.]
What are your strengths? Look at yourself and be honest. If there is something that you're good at, then consider it to be one of your strengths. See, sometimes we may put ourselves down and disregard and devalue our strengths in an effort to show ourselves as humble. However, there is nothing wrong with knowing what your strengths are and being proud of what you are capable of.
When we downplay our strengths like that and tell ourselves and others that we "aren't good at something" even though we may be extremely good at it, two things happen. One of those things is that we begin to lose sight of who we are and of what we are actually capable. The second thing that happens is that we prevent ourselves from growing and from getting better at that particular thing, or at other things that we also may be good at but don't believe ourselves to be.
Never be afraid just to give a simple "thank you" when you receive compliments on your abilities or on your good qualities. It is very likely that you have worked or are working hard to maintain those skills. You deserve credit for that.
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I’ve been thinking about the thing I’ve heard said, about how you shouldn’t put down your skills not only because of yourself but also because you don’t know who will hear you. And you know what?
They’re right.
I’ve been talking to someone at least two or three times in the last few weeks, someone I value a lot, and they were impressed by my prowess at something, like “wow you’re so good”. And I was like “no I’m not, it’s not really that complicated, I’m just dabbling, I’m not very good at all, yadda yadda yadda”. And like? That’s not very nice of me. I am pretty good at that stuff. And I did put in effort to get there. And it benefits none of us for me to pretend that isn’t the case. Because is the other person going to hear “no no I’m not bragging or self important” like my anxiety was saying with those words? Or are they going to hear “wow maybe if you were just better at stuff you could do this too”? It’s probably the second one. And I never, ever want to say that to anyone, especially the people I care about.
So I’ll try to be nice to myself. It’ll probably make me happier too.
