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whumpsday · 6 months

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K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #31

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, recovery, comfort

@whumptober Day 31: “I thought that I was getting better.” / Setbacks / “Take it easy.”

didn't end up making it through whumptober, but here's the day 31 piece i had planned anyway :)

It was one of those nights. A night where the faces of Kane’s tormenters haunted his mind both in dreams and awake.

Awake was worse. At least a dream, he could wake up from, safe and sound in his room below Jim’s house. But the memories, those were worse. They were real, his skin tingling as he recalled the pain. The snap of a forcibly-broken bone, silver pressed against vulnerable flesh, the sting of a cattle prod, the wrathful kiss of the sun.

He gathered up his blanket and crawled underneath his bed, wrapping himself up there. It still didn’t feel safe, even though he’d been freed. The missing lock on the basement door felt more exposing than ever. Kane never imagined he’d miss being captive so much, but being Jim’s captive was safe.

It only got worse as the sun rose. He couldn’t see it from down here, of course, but his clock told him all he needed to know. Now he was well and truly trapped, a sitting duck for any hunters who wanted to pay him a visit and reintroduce him to the pain he’d been so spared over the past months.

But the sun brought more than just terror, here.

Jim woke soon enough, giving the door a couple of knocks before peeking inside. “Kane? You in there?”

Just as Jim was about to leave– right, it was okay if Kane wasn’t there, he was free to come and go as he pleased now– Kane piped up, his voice small and scared. “Yes, sir.”

Jim sighed, the sad kind. “Bad night?”

“Mm-hm.”

Kane felt the bed creak above him as Jim sat down, the delicious smell of human blood ever-closer. “It’s really over. I know it feels like it’s not sometimes, but you’re not going back.”

“I know, I just–” The memories wouldn’t go away. His mind and body wouldn’t let him forget, no matter how far away he got, no matter how safe he was. “I thought I was getting better.”

“You are,” Jim assured him. “This just happens sometimes. Doesn’t mean you’re back to square one.” He set the blood down. “Take it easy and give yourself time. It’s been five months, you’ll get there.”

“Thank you,” Kane said, already feeling just a little better.

#whumptober2023 #no.31 #i thought that i was getting better #setbacks #take it easy #oc #fic #kanes whumptober bites #kane and jim drabbles #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #recovery whump #comfort #hurt/comfort

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whumpster-dumpster · 1 year

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Whumpee pushing themself too hard to get back to work because they’re feeling the pressure of the group needing them and promptly reinjuring themself so they’re set back even longer

#whump #whump prompt #writing prompt #aftermath #recovery #painful healing #overworking #reinjury #setbacks

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goldiipond · 3 months

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graduated 2 years late but who caares im FREEE i can do wjatever i want. i can do anything. i am going to draw my little characters

#skye's ramblings #such a massive weight off my shoulders oogh im gonna cry. its over the plague was simply a temporary setback. fuck the plague. i win #this on top of recent health bullshit has taken a lot out of me n im already feeling better than i have in a while. FUUCK iwant to CREATE!!#idk if im going to pursue college at all (was at college but it was like. a credit recovery program thing. because am special <3 #i just want to focus on my art maan its all ive ever wanted. if i step foot into another school i will simply spontaneously combust <3 #still processing my emotions but just imagine me yelling really big. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKK YEAHHH. YEAH

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serenityquest · 8 months

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#setbacks #relapse #sobriety #recovery #process

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pigeonwhumps · 1 year

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Quote whump prompt

"You were a scientist, Whumpee. You know that different species live in different habitats. And darling, you absolutely thrive in captivity."

#i should start numbering these prompts #but id never remember where i got to #whump #whump prompt #captivity whump #whumpee and whumper #pigeonwhumps prompts #absolutely not thinking of the botanist whumpee from my last piece why would i be?#bonus points for whumpee having a normal non-linear recovery with setbacks and thinking that this just isnt the right place for them #they shouldnt be here they were doing better in whumpers 'care'#whumper was right #caretaker is *horrified* at this thought

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m0tiv8me · 1 year

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Been absent on here as I nurse an injured shoulder back to health. Honestly haven’t felt like sharing or being on social much at all. The injury in my shoulder is a bit of a mystery and didn’t happen while working out. I simply lifted a large bag into a car and something felt like it stretched or tore causing severe pain. The pain is not constant and only occurs with certain movements really hampering my range of motion and activities. No lifting or workouts the past 3 weeks due to the pain and fear of making it worse.

Initial X-rays showed no signs of bone or joint damage so doctors suspect a soft tissue tear or ligament/tendon strain at the moment. Time to heal and recover is currently the suggested treatment which could take 10 to 14 months!! Not what I wanted to hear and disappointed for sure. Needless to say physical work and progress has stopped and will remain very limited. It’s a mental and recovery game now. I’ve been through it before and I’ll get through it again but still can’t help but be a bit bummed.

#road to recovery #recovery #injury #bummed #shoulder #rehab #personal fitblr #m0tiv8me #setback #update

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astrogenica · 9 days

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people claim to understand that progress isn't linear and recovery can take a long time until it becomes personally inconvenient to them and then you're just a stupid lazy bastard to them no matter how you behaved before you became outwardly sick or how hard you've been trying to get better. and i will be mad about that forever

#text post #vent #venting #vent post #chronic illness #mental illness #progress is not linear #recovery takes time #ive only been diagnosed and trying treatments for my autoimmune disease for 1yr #ive been sick for closer to 5 #i just got covid for the second time in january and its fucked up all the progress #that i was making #and now rather than try to support me through a major setback #everyone is acting like i just dont have my shut together and im not trying #meanwhile i am doing my best to keep up when walking a single flight of stairs is still hard for me #and there are very few people who meaningfully recognize how hard this is for me #i used to work three jobs while going to school full time seeing my family frequently #AND having a social life and maintaining my ltr #now im married yeah but i only do one wfm full time job barely engage with my hobbies #see my family and friends infrequently and tbh barely leave my house #and its not for any lack of wanting to #its because i CANT #and even fewer people are making am efforts to accommodate me #so i force myself to occasionally go out and see people #and then need to recover for two weeks #and they dont even appreciate how HARD it is #so much of the effort disabled put into their interactions with abled or just differently #disabled loved ones goes completely unnoticed because its expected as the bare minimum another can do #but rhe bare minimum to them is the absolute best you yourself can give #and nobody cares

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lady-wallace · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 31 - "One Day at a Time" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

It's the final day of @whumptober !

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along with my stories this year, I had such a good time <3

This story was written for an Anon who requested some post part 5 Bruno dealing with injury recovery and the team taking care of him. So Anon, if you read this, I hope you enjoy :)

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Prompts Used: Setbacks, 'Take it easy' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Bucciarati

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Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

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It was not easy for Bruno Bucciarati to admit to weakness. He had grown up being an anchor for his father, a Soldati in Passione, and a team leader before he reached the age of 20. He was, by practicality, strong; built to weather a storm, mentally and physically.

Or so he had thought, but he had to admit that coming back from the dead had been wearing. The wounds he had suffered could still be agonizing, and as stubborn as he was, sometimes his body had other ideas.

It had started with a dull ache in the middle of his back the night before, and had kept him up for a while, making it hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in. His dreams when he finally did sleep, were filled with agony, memories of King Crimson's fist slamming through his middle, cleaving into his shoulder.

The pain pulled him awake with a soft cry, but unlike usual, it followed him into consciousness, making it hard to breathe.

Bruno tried to roll over and push himself up, but his arm was numb from pain emanating from his shoulder, and he felt like he had a spear through his stomach. He let out a breathless gasp, sinking onto his side again, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.

It hadn't been this bad since he'd first woken up after they'd killed Diavolo. Giorno's Gold Experience had repaired the physical damage to the best of its ability, but perhaps the healing process was taking longer than he'd realized.

After quelling the pain slightly, Bucciarati inhaled slowly and tried to get up again to head into the bathroom but he barely got his legs over the side of the bed before pain lanced through his body again and he slumped to the floor with a breathless gasp, arms wrapping around himself.

This was nearly as bad as experiencing the wound all over again, but this time he didn't have the adrenaline of terror. Just pure exhaustion and pain.

A brief flash of dread washed over him as he wondered if the wounds were returning, if Gold Experience's healing had only been temporary but he swallowed it down. He wasn't bleeding, his heart was still beating firmly, and it wasn't like he hadn't been feeling small pains here and there. It was only to be expected after such grievous injuries. Honestly, he felt better knowing he could feel something when the alternative was so much more terrifying.

Still, the fact was he couldn't move without the pain squeezing the breath from his lungs. He couldn't even get any pain medicine.

Desperation won out over stubbornness and he reached for the phone on his bedside table. It was still early, before dawn, but Abbacchio was usually up, hopefully with his phone on him.

The phone picked up after a few rings with Abbacchio's groggy voice. "Aren't you home?"

"I am," Bruno said, voice strained. "I just…need some help. Can you come to my room?"

The call was ended and Bruno focused on breathing as he lay there, hearing Abbacchio's footsteps outside before he opened the door, freezing as he took in the scene.

"Bruno!" he cried before rushing forward, crouching down beside Bucciarati with a worried look. "What the hell happened?"

"I…I'm in a lot of pain right now, can you help me up?" He started to push himself onto an elbow, but the pain returned to cut through him again and he gasped, curling around himself again.

"What pain? Did you throw your back out or something? Is it your stomach?"

Bucciarati waved him off, not having enough breath to answer. "Bed," he breathed.

Abbacchio pressed his lips into a thin line and carefully got his arms under Bucciarati's, easing him up in a steady motion. Bruno gritted his teeth and was unable to stop a whimper escaping him as he was pulled upright, the pain so intense he nearly went light-headed.

He felt briefly weightless as Abbacchio picked him up completely and set him back down.

"Hold on," the other man murmured and walked away briefly.

Bruno breathed through the pain and dizziness until he felt the dip on the side of the bed hailing Abbacchio's return. The other man pressed a cool cloth to his face before settling it over his forehead and eyes.

"Just stay still and breathe until you can explain what you need," Abbacchio told him softly, the worry apparent in his voice. "Should I get Giorno?"

Bruno shook his head briefly, swallowing back the nausea that pain had caused. "Later." He took another slow breath before he said. "It's my injuries. They just started to really bother me."

He felt Abbacchio's hand close around his wrist, fingers pressed to his pulse. Bruno shook his head. "'M fine. It's…wouldn't feel this much pain if I were dead."

"That's not even funny," Abbacchio snapped, but he kept his hand around Bruno's arm, just anchoring him now. "I get it too, you know. The phantom pain. Not quite this bad, but there's a reason I go to bed early sometimes." His hand subconsciously went to his chest, clutching in the black t-shirt he wore.

Bruno furrowed his brow, hating that Abbacchio had never told anyone. Though there were a few days he looked a little stiff.

"Can you please get me some pain pills?" he asked.

Abbacchio left and came back with a pill bottle and glass of water. Bruno attempted to push himself onto his elbows, but that just sent a new wave of agony through him.

"Hey, stop trying to move," Abbacchio snapped, setting the items on the bedside table and quickly grabbing an extra pillow, slipping an arm under Bruno's shoulders and lifting him to slip the pillow behind him to prop him up. Bruno settled with a shuddering sigh.

"Here." Abbacchio took his hand and placed the medicine into his palm. Bruno swallowed the pills down and allowed Abbacchio to hold the glass of water while he drank before sinking back against the pillows, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder and middle.

"Now just relax and let those work," Abbacchio told him. "Can I get you anything else?"

Bruno shook his head, letting his eyes slide shut. He felt like the pain had taken all his energy away.

"What do I do if this doesn't get better?" he murmured.

Abbacchio sat carefully on the side of his bed again. "It will. Give yourself time. It's only been two weeks since you came back from the dead and you push yourself too much. You need to take it easy. Give your body time to heal properly." He sighed. "If you do, so will I. We can try to be better about it together."

Bruno tilted his head back into a more comfortable position. "You're right. Thank you, Leone."

Abbacchio squeezed his good shoulder and stood up. "I'm going to go make coffee. Can I get you some?"

"Maybe later."

Bruno drifted in a half-asleep state, just concentrating on letting his body relax. He knew Abbacchio was right, but it was so hard for him to accept that he could take a day—or two—to rest. There was so much to do with their new position in Passione, that it seemed impossible.

But, he also knew that it wouldn't do anyone any good if he was bedridden because he kept exacerbating the problem.

He was somewhat surprised when Giorno came in a little later, still in his pajamas, a worried expression on his face.

"Abbacchio said your injuries were acting up," he said.

"I seem to be experiencing some phantom pain," Bruno admitted, voice still annoyingly weak to his ear.

Giorno frowned and came to sit on the side of his bed. "May I take a look?"

Bruno nodded and half-heartedly helped Giorno lift his loose sleep shirt to expose the scar in the center of his torso. Completely healed, but leaving a light pink patch in his tanned skin.

Giorno's hand was superimposed with Gold Experience's as he lightly rested his palm against the scar, closing his eyes.

Bruno could feel the warmth of the Stand's power flowing through him, relaxing him slightly before Giorno pulled away.

"There's no…damage, exactly, but phantom pain is something that can be experienced with any wound."

"I'm not unfamiliar," Bruno replied. "My other shoulder can get bad on wet days."

Giorno nodded. "Narancia had an episode the other night too. I…don't think it's anything to worry about. But." He straightened his shoulders. "As your new Boss, I will order you to stay in bed and get some proper rest if I have to."

Bruno blinked, mouth parted slightly. "I…" he started then sighed. "I suppose that's fair."

Giorno gave him a tentative smile. "It's just a firm suggestion. But Abbacchio did say something about chaining you to the bed if you refused."

Bruno let out a soft laugh. "I promise I will ask for help if I need to get up."

Giorno nodded in agreement and stood. "I don't really understand what Requiem did but it promised that the three of you were fully alive and functioning again."

"I'm not worried. I just…I'm not very good at convalescing," Bruno admitted.

"Well, most of what we're doing right now is organizing and looking through years and years' worth of files," Giorno said. "If you really feel up to working that's certainly something you can do from bed."

Bruno smiled, grateful as Giorno rested a hand on his shoulder. "But today, you rest."

"Fair enough," Bucciarati said.

The door was opened then and Mista poked his head in. "Hey, I just brought some breakfast for you. You feel up to eating?"

Bruno smiled wearily but waved Mista in. "I probably should. Thank you, Mista."

Mista settled a tray over his lap. "You don't have to eat all of it, but I tried to make stuff that would give you energy and be easy on your stomach."

Bruno nodded gratefully and started eating, noticing the nausea had mostly gone away by the time he was done.

Not long after Mista retrieved the empty breakfast dishes, Trish and Narancia showed up with a fluffy blanket and extra pillows.

"How are you feeling?" Trish asked quietly.

"Not as bad as I was," Bruno replied honestly. "But I've been told to rest for the day."

"Which you should!" Narancia told him insistently, crawling onto the bed beside him, depositing the pillows. "My wounds act up too, and it sucks, so I get it."

Trish smiled as she tucked the fuzzy blanket over Bruno. "Let us know if we can help make you more comfortable."

"You're all doing more than enough," Bruno assured them, genuinely touched by the care his famiglia was displaying toward him.

Fugo showed up next with some books. "In case you need something to do," he said. "Or I can put some music on for you."

"I think I'm going to rest for now," Bruno told him, starting to feel exhaustion pulling at him. "But I appreciate it, Fugo."

He was a lot more comfortable than he had been that morning and after the terrible night of sleep he'd had, it was easier to doze off than he thought it would be.

When he woke, it was to the rest of the team gathered in his room, asleep themselves. Narancia and Trish both lay on the other side of his bed, Giorno curled up at the foot, Mista's sat on the floor with his head tipped back against the mattress in what was probably not a comfortable position. Abbacchio and Fugo sat on the chaise in one corner of the room, the teen asleep on Abbacchio's shoulder as the older man's head rested against Fugo's.

It was such a comforting sight that Bruno felt a well of emotion rise in his throat, a sudden rush of gratitude that he was blessed with such a wonderful family.

Certain he would be able to recover nicely with all the care they provided, he allowed himself to fall asleep, comforted by the closeness of his loved ones.

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Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about fic or art commissions, find my info on My Carrd

#whumptober2023 #no.31 #setbacks #take it easy #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfic #recovery #hurt bruno bucciarati #team bucciarati #team as family #hurt/comfort #family feels

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peglarpapers · 4 days

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so it turns out that having abdominal surgery and consequently sleeping for 12 hours a day and being exhausted for the other 12 is bad for your productivity

#my carefully constructed tower of self worth crumbles at the slightest academic setback #also thought t had stopped my period. but guess what showed up on recovery day 2 #so that’s been astonishingly helpful. as you can imagine

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 5 months

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Whump Prompt #1317

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

A whumpee who got out, who got better.

A caregiver. who is so relieved the worst is over and whumpee may not be back to their old self, but they seem okay and on some days caregiver isn't even reminded of what happened…

Until they catch the whumpee indulging in old patterns. Maybe the whumpee secretly punishes themselves. Maybe whumpee lets it slip they see themselves as less than human. Maybe the indulge in the form of unhealthy relationships or substance abuse.

The caregivers whole world comes crashing down while whumpee completely undoes any progress before their eyes as they realize they got caught.

#I LIKE IT #whump #writing #prompts #angst #recovery #substance abuse tw #self destructive behavior #worry #poor coping mechanisms #setbacks in recovery

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bunny-is-cute · 2 months

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Authors Note: Surgery Recovery Update

So last week I had surgery. It’s a simple enough procedure (biopsy to see if I have any cancer remaining in my body — I don’t wanna go into too much detail but I was diagnosed with cancer six months ago and caught it relatively quickly).

While I was recovering well and was back to doing normal activities again, I seemed to have misjudged my overall recovery. I began having pain close to where the biopsy was done and I began bleeding today so…fun 😒

So while I do have some chapters already prewritten, my writing pace will slow down to account for resting.

#personal #author’s note #fanfiction #fanfic #AO3 #bunny speaks #surgery recovery #setbacks #cancer sucks

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faofinn · 6 months

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No. 31 "I thought that I was getting better."

Emptiness | Setbacks | "Take it easy."

Fao had had a good day. He’d gone out for coffee, actually feeling relatively human. His pain had been decently controlled, his meds working for once, and his head had been less of a dick than usual. He’d met Steve, and they’d chatted about work, about getting Fao back into it. It had been nice, to feel that spark again, knowing he was good, he was wanted, the possibility of working again was something to keep him going. Because he’d felt good, he’d done loads. After coffee with Steve he’d gone shopping, bought himself some new clothes, stuff that had caught his eye, something to wear when he was a bit more on his feet, even a new suit that he was determined he was going to wear to an interview.

He’d been tired but okay when he got home, and after a nap had still felt decent. He’d helped Fred cook, even managed to laugh at his jokes and generally enjoy himself a bit, after everything he’d had to deal with. He’d gone to bed that night tired but content, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere.

And then he woke up the next morning nauseous and in agony. It was like a huge ‘fuck you’ to just how good he’d been feeling the day before. He rolled half onto his side, burying his face in his pillows, and didn’t move. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted everything to stop. He’d been finally getting somewhere, finally feeling like his old self, and now there was just nothing. The spark he’d felt the day before had gone, leaving him feeling empty and hollow, and suddenly it was like everything he’d been working towards had been for nothing. He wanted a smoke, but even that wasn’t enough to get him out of bed, so he resigned himself to being miserable about that too, the tension headache irritating above all else. He went to take his meds, but the cup by his bed was empty, and he ended up with the bitter taste of his tablets on his tongue and no way to actually take them, which just made the nausea worse and offered no relief for the pain.

The way he’d retched had got him out of bed quick enough, crutches forgotten as he rushed to the bathroom. On his knees in front of the toilet he lost what little he’d eaten, as well as the damn tablet. Rinsing his mouth out didn’t help, he could still taste the horrible bitter meds on his tongue, and he felt just as sick every time he swallowed. Getting to his feet had gone just as badly, and he’d nearly fallen over when he’d stood to the sink, having to grip it hard just to stay upright.

He just about made it back to his room, gripping the wall to keep his balance, and forced himself to get dressed. He called a cab, told Sheila he was going out, and then headed to the cemetery where Alex was buried. She was the only one he wanted to talk to. He loved his family, but they fussed too much, and he didn’t want to upset them. The pain was awful, but he’d given up on the idea of taking anything for it.

He paid the taxi, got out and limped through the neat rows of graves until he reached Alex’s. There were some flowers there, likely left by her brother, but Fao didn’t have anything to leave. He did, however, have a pack of smokes in his pocket, and he lit one to rest on her headstone before he lit one for himself, and awkwardly settled on the floor, taking a long drag.

“I really thought I was getting better, ‘Lex.” He said after what felt like an eternity. “I had such a good day yesterday, thought like I was really getting somewhere, going places. Like getting a job wasn’t a stupid idea, like I could be myself again. Now look at me. I’m in agony, can’t even take my stupid painkillers, can’t do anything right. Maybe it’s just a setback but it feels like more. It feels like every time I do anything good I’m doomed to fail, doomed to suffer. It’s not fucking fair. I know recovery isn’t linear, that some days are gonna be good and some are gonna be bad, but this feels like such a fucking kick in the teeth, to have had such a good day followed by such a shit one. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to keep going? It fucking sucks.”

#whumptober 2023 #No. 31 “I thought that I was getting better.”#oc #fic #emptiness #setbacks #whump writing #whump prompt #faolan blackwood #alex taylor #talking to a grave #depression #recovery #whump #vomiting #painkillers #poor use of crutches

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