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charmingpplincardigans · 2 months

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How’s everyone doing? I’ll go first, I’m bad!

I have been ~*~struggling~*~ since mid-September and in the last two weeks it has just gotten unbearable. I feel like I’m drowning all the time. I’m having trouble keeping up with and reaching out to people I want to talk to. And that’s like, on top of always having been bad at getting back to people. *stares forlornly at the ask Chaz sent me like, literally two years ago that I think about daily but just. haven’t. RESPONDED TO.*

Things are just. Closing in on all sides unfortunately. I’ve been sick several times. I bounced this month’s rent check. A thing I had NEVER DONE BEFORE IN MY LIFE before this last move. My job is literally never going to pay me what I’m worth. Or anyone what they’re worth, frankly. I broke down in front of my boss the other day and just sobbed for an hour because after I pay my bills every paycheck I have just enough left over to buy groceries for two weeks, if I’m careful, and little else. Which means I’m putting stuff like gas on credit cards, which isn’t helping the debt that makes me feel like drowning in the first place. I’ve been at this job SEVENTEEN YEARS. A steady, corporate job. And I’ve never once in my entire time there made an actual cost of living raise!! The cost of living just keeps raising without me! (And also everyone else, I know!)

I’m super overdue on getting people the art they commissioned from me, but my brain just hasn’t been in a good enough place to create much of anything, and I keep thinking I have to get this done and then thinking they deserve better than this, around and around on a loop ad finitum. And there are a couple of other things going on personally that just fucking blow that I don’t know how to fix and I’m just gonna choke on it.

I haven’t done any fandom stuff since NYCC. I haven’t written on my WIP. I haven’t read fic. I don’t check in on the madness happening on twitter. I’ve barely popped my head into my favorite pirate group chat over the last five months or so. I miss doing all of that so much and my stupid brain is so broken that even when I try I can’t enjoy it.

Shit. I’m having a hard time getting work work done. I just sit down at my desk every day, answer emails, and then spend five or so hours frozen with anxiety because there’s too much to do and doing nothing is only making it worse every day.

I need to be back in therapy ASAP, but unfortunately you can’t eat therapy so I can’t pay for it!!

And I feel guilty saying any of this to almost everyone I would usually talk to. (Congrats and condolences to the rest of you!) Because they’re having a harder time than me. Or because they’d just want to give me a bit of money about it, which would fuck me up even more. Or because it’s just tedious and boring and no one wants to listen to me talk about this over and over again, even though it’s all my brain does every hour of every day. It’s a wonder I’m ever able to talk about anything else.

My boss is pretty great, in spite of it all. She’s constantly supportive (to the extent she can be), and she just. She tells me all the time how creative and wonderful and smart and cool to know I am. And every time I just like, tear up, because none of it feels true. But I also tear up when my friends and my partner say those things too. Because to me, a full grown adult without a savings or a 401K or the ability to like, go get drinks just because I want to, I feel like a complete and utter failure. So like. Whatever I guess!!

I need to find a new job that pays me way more. Then I can get a therapist to fix my brain and save money to pay down my debts and have money to have fun with my friends and not feel like a constant financial burden on everyone. Then I can have the brain power back to maybe work on my fic or complete that art or like, I don’t know, talk to the people who actively want to talk to me. You wouldn't think that part would be so hard, but it really, really is.

I’m working on it. I’ll keep working on it. I have LinkedIn open right now. I’m gonna fucking sob through it, but that doesn’t mean none of it will get done.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a good way to make a quick $30 grand, I’m all ears.

#no one cares kl #it's an old-fashioned two am post #at four in the afternoon!#that's how bad things are!#all my shame units are being used so i don't have any to spare #on whether or not i should be messy in public!!!

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skyward-floored · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 24: Neglect

The prompt is kinda funny cause a lot of this fic centers around being cared for but anyway here it is

Read on ao3

Warnings: injuries galore, blood, a little vomiting, removing arrows and a broken bone

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Sky doesn’t even have time to feel overwhelmed.

The moment the last monster is cut down, he’s running back towards the others, none of them in fighting shape anymore. It had been Sky alone who’d defeated the last several infected monsters, and the screams of the others as they’d fallen still rings in his ears.

He drops to Hyrule’s side first, the traveler clutching a hand to the side of Warriors’ neck. Blood streams through his fingers as his hands glow blue, but he seems heedless of the blood dripping off his own forehead and arm, and his face is pinched in concentration, even as he shakes.

Legend is next to him, holding Warriors steady, but one of his arms is held tightly to his chest, and his face is pale in the light from Hyrule’s magic.

Sky looks between the three of them, wondering where he should even begin, but then Hyrule exhales, and lifts his bloody hands.

“H-He’ll, he’ll live,” he croaks, hands shaking uncontrollably. Sky has just enough time to catch him as he collapses backwards, unconscious.

“I got him,” Legend says as he reaches over, but Sky shakes his head, scanning Warriors’ neck and face. He’s unconscious, but Hyrule was right that he’ll live, the slice that had slipped past the captain’s defenses and sent him plunging to the ground in a spray of blood now almost fully healed. He has other smaller injuries, but they’re less pressing right now.

“Drink this,” Sky says, handing a potion to Legend after rifling in his pouch. For once they’re actually well-stocked in healing supplies, and Sky thanks Hylia for it.

“Give it to Four, he’s almost passed out over there,” Legend says in a mutter, and Sky glares.

“We have plenty of potions and your arm is a disaster, drink it,” he says firmly, then gently sets Hyrule on the ground next to Warriors before getting to his feet. Hyrule’s injuries will have to wait until he’s awake, or they can find a fairy. “Besides, Four needs care before he drinks one.”

Sky doesn’t wait to see if Legend obeys or not, rather slides himself over to the smithy himself. Four is curled over himself, his leggings ripped and legs scraped, and shakily trying to remove the arrows stuck in his upper arm.

“Here,” Sky says gently, placing a hand on Four’s back. “Let me.”

The smithy looks at him, his face drawn with pain, and nods weakly. Sky gives him a smile that hides the unpleasant feeling in his stomach, and quickly gets to work, the familiar motions of pushing the arrows through or snapping them in half born from bitter experience.

Four clutches at Sky’s arm the whole time, the Skyloftian patiently letting him hold on so tightly he’s sure the smithy leaves bruises. He murmurs comfort as Four bites back cries of pain, holding a hand firmly over the holes he leaves, and finally he pulls the last arrowhead out.

Four breathes in a shaky breath as Sky wraps up his arm, then gives his hand a grateful squeeze.

“Go help the others, I can handle myself,” Four says a little shakily, and Sky hesitates, then nods as Four starts to fish in his pouch. He trusts Four not to cut corners.

Sky gets up and looks around, and runs over to Twilight’s side just in time to help him turn over and throw up into the grass.

Sky swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let go until Twilight is done, panting for breath, sweat and blood on his forehead. He lets out a quiet whimper, and Sky gently brushes the hair back from his face, trying to get a good look at his eyes.

Twilight blinks at him, looking the very definition of concussed.

“Sky..? Wh... wh’ happened?” Twilight slurs, and Sky sighs, patting him on the shoulder as he studies the blood pouring down the side of his face. There’s a lump under his hair, and several nasty gashes all along his temple.

“You got hit, buddy, right in the head with a spiked club,” Sky reports, and Twilight blinks at him like he’s having trouble focusing.

“...R’lly?”

“Really,” Sky replies. Twilight had been one of the first to go down, and the noise the club had made as it had hit his skull wasn’t one Sky would easily forget. He squeezes Twilight’s shoulder as he props him up, and tries to coax him into drinking the potion he has.

“Not thirsty,” Twilight huffs, turning his head away, and Sky patiently turns his head back.

“It’s a potion, Rancher. You got hit really hard, you need this if you’re going to be healed,” Sky says, and Twilight squints at him suspiciously.

“‘M not a potion rancher...” Twilight mutters, but he finally drinks the potion, Sky careful to give it to him slowly. Twilight doesn’t seem to change much once it’s in his system, but he seems a little less dizzy, and Sky studies him to make sure that the blood is actually slowing from his head.

Once he’s sure it has, he wraps a quick bandage around his head to stop any more blood from escaping, then moves over to Wild.

Wild is sitting up against a tree, his eyes closed as he takes in quick, shallow breaths. His tunic has several bloody gashes torn into it, and he’s clutching at his leg, Sky quickly looking away when he notices the angle his knee is pointing.

Legend is sitting next to him, talking quietly, and when Sky comes up, Legend makes eye contact with him.

“We’ve got to get his leg back in the right spot before we can give him a potion,” the veteran says a little quietly, and Wild’s breath stutters. “And I... can’t with my arm.”

Sky swallows, the sick feeling in his stomach returning. He’d been lucky so far not to have dealt with anything too horrible, the arrows in Four’s upper arm the worst. But shifting a broken leg back to the correct position...

He breathes out and nods, shoving away the lurch in his stomach. Somebody has to do it.

“Just tell me what to do.”

Legend does his best to explain as Sky bandages the gashes on Wild’s chest, and once he’s finished, he feels like he’s steeled himself enough to deal with it.

“Ready Wild?” Sky asks gently, and Wild gives him a faint nod.

Legend grabs his hand with his good arm, and Sky moves Wild’s leg before he can think about it.

The champion screams, and Sky nearly throws up as bones shift under his hands, noises he never wants to hear again coming from under his hands. Legend does his best to help hold Wild steady, but there’s only so much he can do, his face nearly gone white. Sky ends up nearly sitting on Wild as he thrashes and cries out, but he finally gets his leg and knee back in the right direction.

Wild sags, tears on his face, and Sky runs a hand through his hair.

“There you go buddy, you’re alright,” Sky says in a soothing voice, and Wild doesn’t resist when he and Legend put a potion bottle to his lips.

Sky forces himself to watch his leg right itself, the bit of blood and odd shape slowly smoothing out. The gashes on his middle seem to still be there, the potion having mostly gone to his leg, but the color has returned to Wild’s face.

“Thanks,” Wild says in a trembling voice, and Sky smiles a little weakly before going to the only heroes he hadn’t given any attention to yet.

Time is holding Wind to his chest, what of the sailor’s tunic Sky can see looking burnt in several spots. Time himself has claw marks dangerously close to his good eye, and looks like he’s not breathing the easiest, but the older hero is already wrapping bandages carefully around most of Wind’s left arm, the sailor shaking a little as he works.

Time at least seems reasonably functional, considering the states of some of the others.

Sky hasn’t seen exactly what had happened to either of them, but he’d seen fire, and heard a scream that was way too young. Time had shouted, and there had been enemies running around, but Sky had been busy trying not to be killed himself at the time.

“Here,” Sky says as he hands Time a potion, and the older hero shakes his head.

“Wind already had one.”

“This is for you,” Sky says sternly, and Time ignores him, shushing Wind when the sailor lets out a pained whine. “Old man, those scratches need healing, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t the only thing you’re dealing with.”

“His breathing is a little funny,” Wind whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as Time fixes the bandages. “He got hit in th-the ribs.”

Sky puts a hand on his hip, ignoring the sore feeling he gets for his trouble, but Time ignores him as he continues to help Wind.

“Come on, we have enough potions for you to have one,” Sky says firmly, and Time finally looks at him, blood on his face like a mockery of the tattoos on his opposite cheek.

“Please Time,” Wind says quietly.

The older hero looks at the sailor, then silently takes the potion, his face more worn than usual.

And so it continues.

Having given everyone initial treatment, the job still isn’t done, and Sky runs back and forth between the heroes for most of the afternoon and evening, replacing bandages, settling people into more comfortable positions, and scrounging up some dinner as well.

Even the more functional ones of the group are worn out from their injuries and the fighting, and though Sky aches to rest, he keeps going, heedless of his body begging for him to stop.

When Twilight throws up the potion he was given, Sky patiently gives him another, and when it turns out Legend has a nasty gash on his leg he thought he could walk off, Sky is there and helps him clean and bandage it. Warriors wakes up with a choked gasp much later, and Sky calms him down, offering him some dinner, and Four falls asleep on top of Sky’s sailcloth, his face still pale from blood loss.

It’s the early hours of the morning before everyone is sleeping, at least somewhat peacefully (though Hyrule is still sacked out from magic loss). Sky does his rounds yet again, and realizes suddenly that there isn’t anything else for him to do.

The adrenaline and stubbornness that have so far kept him afloat began to drain away, and Sky quickly sits down, exhaustion weighing on him, pain shooting up from his—

Wait, what?

Sky turns his head around to look at his hip, and sees a tear in the fabric of his tunic, mostly-dried blood soaking most of his lower tunic and upper part of his pant leg.

Sky blinks.

He’d forgotten he’d even been injured, right at the tail end of the battle. He remembered the dark knight swinging at him, and the pain that had torn up his side, but he’d ignored it in favor of finishing the fight and helping the others until eventually it had slipped his mind altogether.

Though that would explain why he’d begun to feel rather dizzy as the evening had worn on.

Sky carefully lifts his bloody tunic out of the way, breath stuttering when it sticks a little. The wound underneath is unpleasant to look at, reasonably deep with half-dried blood stuck all over it. Peeling his tunic away made it begin to bleed again, though sluggishly, and Sky can only stare at it for a minute, the sudden urge to cry sweeping over him.

He’s exhausted, from the battle earlier, and from running around all afternoon and evening caring for the others. He hadn’t been planning to sleep (somebody had to keep watch), but he’d still thought he would get some rest, and now there’s a gash in his side that’s bleeding all over the place.

Maybe it’ll just... be fine for the night, he thinks with a sinking feeling. It’s nearly morning anyway, and there’s no—

He leans over to take off his boots, and gasps, stars glittering at the edges of his vision.

Four shifts where he’s curled up next to him, and before Sky can get a hold of himself, the smithy is sitting up and blinking at him. He stares at him for a moment as be wakes up, then his eyes catch on his side, and they widen.

“Sky! You’re hurt!” he gasps, and Sky shushes him, looking at their lighter sleepers.

Nobody stirs, and he looks back at Four.

“Smithy, I wasn’t—”

“You can’t neglect yourself just because the rest of us are hurt!” Four says more quietly, but his voice is still equally dismayed. Sky shakes his head, feeling that same urge to cry come back even stronger.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad, I... I forgot about it,” he says in a small voice, and Four looks at him, his eyes looking almost red in the firelight.

Then he puts his good hand on Sky’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Sky, you’ve done enough for today,” he says softly. “Let me help you.”

“But...”

“You deserve care as much as the rest of us,” Four says firmly. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, Sky. You did a good job healing us up, and come tomorrow most of us will be in working order.”

He gives Sky a little smile, and lightly knocks his head against his.

“Helping you after everything you did today is the least I can do. And I know the others would agree.”

Sky can only nod in response, his throat tight as he turns away. Four gives his shoulder another squeeze, and gets to work on his side, grabbing a damp cloth to clean it with, and wrapping it up once it’s cared for.

And after he’s finished, he scootches himself over next to Sky, leaning on his shoulder, and pulling the sailcloth over the both.

Neither of them say anything further, and if Sky sniffles once or twice as he finally lets himself relax, Four doesn’t acknowledge it aside from a gentle squeeze.

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