The Greater Unknown

(based on my heavily sedated cat)

Whumpee sitting in place, mouth slightly open, eyes wet, staring on one point, just trying to keep from falling over

Caretaker trying to put Whumpee to bed but Whumpee just keeps getting up and wandering to the same place

Whumpee walking so slowly, unable to go in the direction they intend

Whumpee being completely silent, unless touched, when they make a strange, deep guttural noise in their throat

Caretaker having to wash Whumpee with gentle soaps, knowing Whumpee hates being touched

Caretaker telling Whumpee to just go to sleep, because that will help, but Whumpee just stares at them

Caretaker having to deny Whumpee food so they don't get nauseous later

a touch on their neck and they immediately become limp and pliant

touch their shoulders and they drop to their knees

touching their wrist will make them drop whatever they're holding

a gentle tug on their clothes and they take them off

some touches make them flinch away

and other touches they lean into

(more nsfw-ish/triggering content below the cut)

Whumpee who is scrubbing their skin raw trying to escape the memories of what happened.

Whumpee who almost falls asleep in the shower/bath because they are so exhausted.

Whumpee who is still in shock, being carefully cleaned by Caretaker.

Whumpee who hides in the shower, finally allowing themselves to break down.

Whumpee who avoids showering for as long as they can because of what happened (water trauma? feeling trapped/locked in? ablutophobia/fear of bathing?).

Whumpee who gets to shower for the first time in days/weeks/months.

Choking

(i just saw a post about this and wanted to make my own list)

Content: choking, ptsd

Victim that's been choked many times, eyelids fluttering closed as they try to conserve energy

First time, eyes fly open, panicking, trying to gag and can't even get that out

Afterward because of the compression of the trachea, victim ende up coughing and possibly spitting

Those panicky, gravelly breaths right after

The betrayed look sideways at aggressor as victim holds throat and tries to get their breath

Sometimes your body doesn't decide to get faint until after the breath is restored. Victim gasping, hand against the wall for support after aggressir lets go.

Rubbing their throat quietly

Chin down, pulling back reflexively whenever aggressor gets angry after that

content: past trauma, dissociation, comfort, rocky recovery

Caretaker softly knocked on Whumpee’s bedroom door before opening it and poking their head inside. “Dinner’s ready.”

Whumpee was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was nothing new by now. They’d spent most of their days like that since the rescue, and no matter how worrying it was, Caretaker was instructed to just… let them. Doctor said they’d eventually snap out of it.

Whenever ‘eventually’ would be.

content: disabled whumpee, rocky recovery, comfort, past trauma

“It’s your turn to come up with the dinner plan,” Caretaker said, leaning against the frame of Whumpee’s bedroom door. “So, what are we eating?”

Whumpee looked at them, the cogs clearly turning in their head. They wouldn’t come up with an answer for a while, so Caretaker had time to lament the way their friend had been hurt.

They used to be bubbly and full of life. So smart, too. Quick-witted. Now, Caretaker had to give them simple tasks like this every few days to keep their brain working, but not overwhelm them completely.

"They're back! Look!"

Caretaker winced at the sound of their team's excited exclaims. As they hobbled along the path that led to the base, they held Whumpee's bloodied body close to them, cradling their head to their chest. They were so unbelievably tired. Tired and worn out, but they only let it get to them when they knew they were safe again.

And then they collapsed onto the pavement, barely able to keep their grasp on reality as their knees scraped the ground. The sound of footsteps got closer, multiple pairs of feet running down the path to meet them where they kneel. They felt as if they'd failed.

"Hey," Leader was the first to greet them. Their voice was soothing and gentle, and they reached out to brush Caretaker's bloodied hair out of their face as they crouched down beside them. "Look at me. You're okay, yeah? You can rest now. We've got you."

All Caretaker could bring themself to do was cry, because they knew just how wrong Leader was. Nothing was okay, least of all them.

Shaking arms tilted Whumpee's face into view of everyone as they mustered up the strength to speak. "I tried so hard," they wept, and there was a small chorus of gasps as they realised what had happened.

Whumpee's bloodsoaked face staring blankly up at them, lips parted slightly and their body completely limp in Caretaker's arms. Had they been breathing, they'd have blamed it on shock, but it was obvious what had happened.

"I couldn't leave them," Caretaker's strained voice choked. "I... I was too late, but I was- I was able to grab their body. I figured... they'd want something better than to be left to rot in an abandoned house, you know? It was so hard. I- I didn't know what to do, I-"

Leader was there to catch them as they practically crumbled. Whumpee's body now lay on the ground in between them, and Caretaker clung to Leader with every lasting bit of strength they had in them. They wanted to scream. To cry until their lungs ached. There were so many things they wished they could do, and yet they struggled to do anything but hide from what had happened.

With a tight, anguished sob, they squeezed their eyes shut and grasped at Leader's tear-stained shirt, ignoring their team members slowly gathering around them, too. "They didn't deserve to die like that," they bawled, weakly slamming their fists against Leader's shoulder. "They didn't... they died alone, or- or with whoever the fuck did this. They died in that fucking basement with no one! How- ho-ow could anyone do that?"

Leader shook their head against Caretaker's shoulder, and Caretaker was too caught up in their own grief to hear the sob their tore from their mentor's throat, along with the quiet weeping from everyone else.

I don’t know why I have decided that cat!Jon is just a stinky little boy. He needs a bath. Musty little brat