#Setbacks

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

Growth isn’t always constant. Relapses happen. It doesn’t erase all your success.

[whumpsday]

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.

[deadthehype]

ScHoolboy Q ranks his albums.

[making-me-nameless]

Missed Connections

I need Connected: Benthic and Connected: Summerset for quite a lot of small interactions; things I normally take for granted like upconversions. Normally they're unlocked by Watchful Making Your Name, and most other ways to increase them require you to have them already.

But according to the wiki, not quite all:

According to the wiki, Find a decent home for your Mark of Credit Page, from Secrets and Spending, gives Connected unconditionally. But the only way to know for sure is to actually do it:

D___. The wiki is incorrect, presumably because no one tested this scenario before. That could make things tricky. I'll need to do some more research.

And I guess I should probably make a wiki account and report my findings.

[gierosajie-art]

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List | No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.” | Emptiness | Setbacks

Faruzan couldn't remember much of her time being trapped. And when she did, all it had were impressions and blurred memories.

Now when she woke up in the middle of the night, the oppressive feeling of the room loomed over her. Trapped, alone. It was quiet. All too quiet with only her breathing made known.

Out. She had to get out.

Out out out OUT.

Shaking hands took knobs and tore open the door. And then another door.

She can't stay here.

She has to-

Breathe.

The dark early morning air rushed through her face and into her lungs as she slammed open the door. The sound echoed through the empty street.

Faruzan sat on the stairs. She had just recently been cleared by the Bimarstan after so long. It wasn't as bad as when she first got back, on that first night in a closed room. They had to move her to the open air wing after that.

“I thought that I was getting better.”

And she had gotten better. She knows that. But the bare room, empty of any personal artifacts, from traces of her cousins, and nieces and nephews, the familiarity of her family home, to the missing rustle and life of her old lodgings long given to another generation– it made her feel all the more alone.

[kybercrystals94]

Resilient

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 30 | Prompt 31: “I thought I was getting better.” | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Rating: T

Words: 935

Summary: Echo thought he had gotten past these episodes.

Author’s Note: I swapped the prompts for today and tomorrow, because I was going to post Part 3 of Regroup today; however, I needed a little more time with it, so it will be coming tomorrow!

“CT-1409, do you experience these episodes often?” a soft, even, expressionless voice asks.

Echo turns his head and finds himself face to face with a Kaminoan lab assistant, large orb eyes blinking slowly, expectantly. Waiting. They had asked him a question.

“What?” he asks, shifting awkwardly where he sits on the end of a medical cot, metal legs dangling.

The Kaminoan sighs but repeats the questions. “Your night terrors. Do you experience these episodes often?”

“No,” comes the automatic lie, “I don’t have night terrors.”

“That is incorrect, CT-1409,” the Kaminoan refutes, “Our records indicate that you experience night terror episodes between two and three times per week.”

“What records?” Echo demands. He’s never confessed his nightmares to anyone, let alone a Kaminoan medical facility. The only ones who know that he wakes up some nights with a scream being torn out of his lungs are...

“We receive reports from Clone Force 99,” the Kaminoan replies coolly. “It is troubling that you would find it acceptable to lie about your condition.”

Echo’s mind is reeling. The Batch told them? They’ve been reporting to the Kaminoans all this time? He trusted them...

“It isn’t a condition,” Echo protests weakly. His mouth and throat feel like he swallowed sand.

“Fully functioning clones are resilient to mental and emotional disorders such a post-traumatic stress. However, seeing as you have been altered extensively by the Techno Union, it is understandable that your cognitive constitution has been compromised.” The Kaminoan turns away from him, picks up a syringe filled with a silvery blue substance.

Echo stares at it. “What is that?”

“The cost of treating your condition far outweighs the benefits,” the Kaminoan tells him. “Please lie back and remain calm.”

“You’re going to decommission me,” Echo breathes out. He doesn’t move to lie down, he can’t. Even if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to die. “I need to speak with my commanding officer. CT-99...”

“There is no need,” the Kaminoan interrupts him. “Your commanding officer is fully aware of our decision.”

“No!” Echo shakes his head. “Hunter would not allow this. I demand to speak to him immediately.”

“You are Kaminoan property. Your commanding officer has no say. Please follow my request, or I will be forced to have you restrained.”

Echo wills himself to move, but it’s as though his muscles have turned to stone, heavy and unyielding. He can only watch in horror as the Kaminoan approaches him, puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back. The needle of the syringe glistens in the haunting white light overhead.

“It is a painless death,” the Kaminoan assures him.

“No, please,” Echo begs, and he realizes he is crying. “Please, I don’t want to die. Please.”

“You have served your purpose and are no longer a valuable or viable resource.” The pinch of a needle.

“Please...”

“Echo!”

The cyborg sits up with something between a strangled scream and a gasp. He is breathing hard, lungful after lungful of air doesn’t seem to be enough. A hand grips his bicep hard, and Echo pulls away wildly, swinging out with his scomp arm.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Hunter’s voice sounds startled, and Echo turns to see the Sargeant looking at him from several paces away.

“Stay away from me,” Echo chokes out, “Don’t come near me.”

“Echo,” Hunter soothes, “you were having a nightmare. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“No,” Echo cries, “I’m not okay. I’m not!”

“Alright,” Hunter says.

Echo nods, still breathing hard. He can’t decide if his face is wet from sweat or tears. Maybe both. Either way, he rubs at his face with a shaking hand.

Hunter takes a step toward him, and Echo swallows, averting his eyes to the tangle of blankets only half covering him now. “Can I sit next to you, vod?” Hunter asks.

Brother.

Echo nods again, but Hunter still approaches slowly, like Echo’s a wounded animal about to lash out with teeth and claws. He kneels next to the bunk and puts out his hand, palm up. An offering. Echo takes it, gripping Hunter’s gloved hand so tight the fabric protests. “This is real,” Hunter murmurs. “You’re safe.”

“I’m safe,” the ARC echos softly. He sniffs. He is definitely crying. Kriff.

“This hasn’t happened in a while,” Hunter comments gently.

Echo tips his head back against the wall. “I thought I was getting better.” He glances at Hunter. “Did Omega hear anything?”

“Yeah,” Hunter admits, “she came and got me.”

Echo curses. “Hope I didn’t scare her too badly.”

“You didn’t,” Omega says from the doorway, her body pressed against the frame. “I was just worried about you.”

“I’m fine, kid,” Echo says. He releases Hunter’s hand and tries to wipe the dampness from his face again. “Just a bad dream.”

Omega smiles at him. “It’s okay if you’re not, though,” she says.

Echo blinks. Damn it. The kid was going to make him start bawling again. He returns her smile shakily but doesn’t trust himself to say anything, so he gives her a tight nod. That seems to be enough, because after another flash of a smile, she’s gone, called away by Tech in the cockpit, by design, Echo thinks distantly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asks.

Echo shakes his head, the residual emotions of betrayal lingering in the corners of his mind. That wasn’t real, he reminds himself firmly. This is real.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Hunter says. He stands up, puts a heavy hand on Echo’s shoulder for a moment, then follows Omega out of the room, leaving Echo alone.

He focuses on the sound of the ship around him, takes a steadying breath. This is real.

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink

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[chipmunkweirdo]

I don’t want to be premature, but the fever’s finally been down for a while and I think I feel better.

I can’t think too clearly though, probably from the 6 solid days of panic and anxiety attacks on/off.

I’m a hypochondriac and it was impossible to tell what was caused by the virus and what was anxiety. 😭

Still in misery but praying I recover and can still DO ALL THE THINGS I LOVED BEFORE GETTING SICK!

I miss running, and drawing, and talking clearly.

[justalittlesolarpunk]

Tried to run a climate café in my village today, but nobody showed up. Feeling discouraged but I’m going to keep trying. Guess I’ll eat all the snacks I baked myself…

[mrkmciver]

#The Comeback

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 31

"Setbacks"

Clint stared out of the window. Nat sat on a chair beside his bed. 

“Talk to me,” she said when he was quiet for a very long time. Clint continued to stare out of the window. “Clint.” 

It took him almost five minutes until he turned his head to look at her. 

“What am I supposed to say?” he asked. “It’s over. I lost.” 

“You lost one tournament,” Nat said. 

“Nat, I ruptured a tendon in my shoulder,” he snapped. “I will never be able to shoot a bow again. Bye, bye, national team, bye, bye Olympic games!”

“You give up so easily?” Nat sneered. 

“What! Am! I! Supposed! To! Do?” he repeated, pronouncing each word exactly. 

“Heal, train, shoot and win!” Nat snapped back. 

“I cannot! Didn’t you listen to Dr. Mumford?” Clint hissed. “My shoulder is ruined!”

“He said it’s probably ruined, but that’s not sure. Yes, it’s a setback, but it’s not the end!”

“Yeah?” But what if it is?” 

“If you give up right now you will never find out,” Nat said and glared at Clint. But when he didn’t answer she rose and sighed. 

“I will come back tomorrow. And I hope you’re in a better mood by then,” she said and went to the door. 

“And what if I’m not?” Clint asked. Nat just glared at him and left the hospital room.

[omgiamwish]

Whumptober 2023 Day 31 - Setbacks

“Teru-san? Have you seen Nii-san? … Ah, well, we kind of got in a fight. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but he hit me on accident and I think he panicked? So if you see him, can you- … Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Mob sat mired in confusion, terror, and regret. Years of practice told him to ignore these feelings, to squash them down, to go home and apologize to Ritsu, to never be open with him again. But he made a promise to himself. Feeling like this was supposed to be progress. How could this be progress? No matter what he does, he keeps hurting Ritsu. He... really is terrible.

(Accepting yourself is not a linear process)

[meetinginsamarra]

Whumptober Day 31 **Prompt Orgy - I used all four!** “emptiness, I thought I was getting better, take it easy, setbacks”

After a minute, John pulled Sherlock’s hands off his face, lowering them onto the bed and intertwined their fingers. He retreated his head a bit so that he could look Sherlock into the eyes again.

“You are right. But apart from this and in order to really move on we also have to keep talking to each other. Like we did here. As in actually talk, saying what we mean and feel. I know I am shit at it and so are you but this…,” John struggled to phrase, “this emptiness for words has to stop.”

“And here I thought I was getting better at the talking thing.” Sherlock deadpanned, not altogether jokingly.

“You made a brilliant start. I’ll give you this.”

“Thanks to Ella’s advice, that is.”

“Anyhow. Let’s keep this up, shall we? Maybe avoid a lot of misunderstandings in the future?”

“So, John, what do you imagine our future would look like?”

“Bright, I hope.” John grinned. “Seriously though, I thought a lot about this when I sat waiting beside your bed.” John let go of Sherlock’s hands and pointed his thumbs at himself. “Look at me here, telling you about my feelings.” He waggled his eye brows a bit, trying to make light of the situation because deep down he was very nervous about what he intended to say.

“I want to move back into 221b. I want to live with you again. I want to bring Rosie. I want us to be family. We could renovate 221c and use it for additional living space. I want to keep working at the clinic but only part-time so that I can help you with the cases and blog about it.” John took a deep breath. “What about you?”

There, I’ve said it. What I truly want. I’ve been given another chance and this time I will make good use of it. I swear! Restart our friendship with a clean slate. And maybe, eventually, there might be more, we could become more. I think I could be more than a friend if Sherlock wants. But no need to rush this. There will be time to figure this out if we take it easy with ourselves.

Sherlock looked at John, gaping, his mouth literally hanging open while all the blood in his body rushed into his head seemingly having decided to have a surprise party in his brain.

“I, I…” Colourful stars exploded behind his eyes and an incandescent shower of joyful sparks buried Sherlock’s heart in a thick layer of blissful warmth. “Yes! Yes! John, I want this too, very much!”

Oh God, yes! Come back to me John, we can be happy together, as friends and family. It will be more than I could ever have dreamed of when I came back after the fall. Let us take it slow and maybe I can show you how I really feel about you, carefully and safely, some time in the future. Maybe then we can be more than friends. But for now, it is more than enough. Much more.

“I have an idea.” John waited for a sarcastic remark but Sherlock just listened. “Let us both take a vow. There will be setbacks, you know. With us. We’re both not good with talk about feelings. We’re both not an easy person to live with. But we already know the worst about each other. So, I promise to do my best for making this work and not stop trying.”

“Yes, me too, John. I promise to never stop making 221b our home.”

Their words kept hovering in the air between them, heavy with meaning and full of promise. Much more than mere words in fact.  Both were intensely aware of the significance what had been said and both thought that their promises had an uncanny resemblance to the marriage vow John had taken.

They hugged for long time after this, keeping each other close, unwilling to let go of this magical moment where their future together was about to start.

—

find the fic on AO3 HERE

chapter 7 "Dedication" is up (prompts 28-31)

—

Please tell me if anybody wants to get tagged or untagged (just say it, I won’t get mad).

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[deadthehype]

Because I am very excited about ScHoolboy Q's new album Blue Lips dropping next Friday, I decided to put together this playlist of some of my favorite songs from Q.

This is the first playlist I've made in a few months. So hopefully y'all enjoy it.

[making-me-nameless]

Oh, h___, Brawling with Dockers actually does require MYN.

OK, I can still get Justificande Coins and Surface Currency from the Rat Market, by letting Rat-Shillings expire. At least 521 Rat Shillings, according to the wiki. Randomly, which could make it annoying; not so much for the single coin I need for the Lab as the many coins I'll eventually need for the Railway. Well, I knew I was going to be doing a bunch of Rat Market grinding anyway, best start now.

Also going to miss out on some of the other stuff available there, not least the convenient Wounds reduction. But nothing that will block me.

[sam-loves-seb]

i'd like to be my old self again (but i'm still trying to find it)

Mickey runs his hand over his mouth, staring at the closet and the arrangement of shirts and jackets that looks no more and no less organized than before. “You feelin’ okay?” Something prickles at the back of Ian’s neck. “I feel fine,” he answers, shaking it off. “Why?” “You don’t feel… off?” Ian scoffs. “Because I did the laundry and cleaned the apartment a little bit?” “No… yes?” Mickey winces. “Mickey. What the hell are you even saying?”

// post-canon: ian is feeling better, until he’s not

whumptober 2023 -- day 31

prompt: setbacks

prompt: I thought I was getting better

[ ao3 | ko-fi | etc ]