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camillathe6th · 8 months ago

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(Splinters) Happy Birthday, Mr. President

Disclaimer: everything is Malin Rydén's of course, especially since I'm stealing Ortega for this one, and really leaning into the asshole part of their brain (if they have one. We're still not sure) Context: It almost being my birthday made me think about Ortega's birthday; Ortega's birthday made me think of villain reveals; villain reveals reminded me Una and Ortega haven't shouted at each other in too long; poured my soul into this, didn't come out unscathed, this is a WARZONE. What to expect: Ortega's turning 40!! Let's celebrate :)

2022. (Ricardo)

It’s not that I’m waiting, really. Why would I be waiting? She promised nothing. I’m having fun. Look at me. Look at me, shining. I’m having fun. The beer is good, the champagne’s better, and the cocktails were created in my name. You know why? Because it’s my day. It’s my day, and I’m having fun.

“The beginning of the rest of your life!” Daniel laughs, buzzed, clapping me on the shoulder, his smile resplendent in its creaselessness.

God. I knock on the bar.

“Can I get another round?” I throw to the barman, who spills gin into shot glasses at the speed of light.

At least there’s that: they didn’t spare any expense, not for me, not for Charge. Charge, this monument. The roguish hero of yore. The declining hero of now. Keep a monument around long enough and it starts to erode and mold. Maybe they splurged because they expect me to drop dead before the next decade hits. They’d be right to hope, but they’ll be wrong in the end. For my fiftieth, I’ll ask for the mayor to pop out of a giant cake. I’ll ask for a gold statue of myself in the nude, with eyes of brown diamonds. I’ll ask for a generator so insane it’ll send me into space. Hedge your bets and start saving, assholes.

For now, I get everyone who’s anyone in Los Diablos, and the newly reminted Heritage museum all for me myself and I, sparkly and new after two years of rebuilding. A little like life, huh? Sparkly and new, after two years of rebuilding. Crystal chandeliers, gilded moldings, sculpted handrails, camouflaging the bomb-cracks left underneath.

All that’s left to see now is whether the bomb-cracks have unsettled the structure long-term.

Gingerly, absently, I touch the smooth scar on my lip. Can’t even feel it anymore, really: with time, it’s sunk into older skin, a little paler, but unraised. Just an adornment. Gilded moldings.

“Not for me,” Chen says when I hold out a shot glass. “Moore’s not coming?”

Fine. Then I’ll drink both.

“Don’t know. You know how she is.”

“It’s your birthday,” he says, raising an eyebrow judgemental enough that Daniel cringes from second-hand anxiety.

“I saw her yesterday, and she definitely knew about it,” he tries to help, and fails.

“Of course she knows,” I roll my eyes, downing a glass. “I haven’t been subtle.”

“Are you ever?” Argent snorts. She’s eating what appears to be a third slice of the cake that was rolled out an hour ago, glittering with magic candles and out of which the mayor definitely did not pop, despite her wearing a ridiculous feathered-collar suit that she simply can’t pull off. Continued here.

#fallen hero #fallen hero: revelations #notebooks #writing #splinters #charge #una

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minty-mumbles · 1 year ago

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Whumptober Day 3: “Make it stop”

TW: Blood and injury, medical aid without painkillers, restraints, unreliable narrator (kind of)

A/N: Yeah I know it's the 5th and this is late. I forgot I was doing whumptober to be totally honest, I'm so sorry lol

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Let it be known that Wind hated Wild’s era. He really did.

Wind hated Wild’s stupid era because it had stupid moblins who had stupid bomb barrels that they liked to pick up and throw.

To be frank, Wind was used to explosions. Many members of their group didn’t hesitate to use bombs for their own benefit. But the heroes’ habit of exploding things was only fun and exciting when it was them who were the ones doing the exploding. When it was a moblin in Wild’s era with a bomb barrel, it was decidedly less fun.

Fuck.

Wind winced as he was jostled slightly, the movement sending shooting pain through his back

Damn Wild’s era. Damn it all to Demise.

Wind was jostled again, and a strangled wheeze forced itself from his mouth. Distantly, Wind could hear the heavy drawl of Twilight’s accent. The rancher was probably apologizing.

Wind hummed in acknowledgment, but didn’t pick his head up from the shoulder it was resting on. He tightened his hold around Twilight’s neck the best he could without strangling him. As hard as he tried, though, it was difficult to keep a grip on someone when you were bleeding out. Twilight’s arms hooked under Wind’s legs were really the only thing keeping Wind from falling to the ground at this point.

Every step Twilight took was agony, making what was left of his tunic rub against the open wounds on his back. They'd been walking for at least ten minutes now, and Wind’s world had narrowed down to the repetitive movement and corresponding spikes of pain that came with it.

He was broken out of his daze when Twilight's gate slowed down. Wind lifted his head ever so slightly, and found that they had arrived at their destination.

A stable. Wind couldn't remember which one it was.

Wind barely had time to send up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god allowed them to finally arrive before people were swarming out of the strangely shaped tent and surrounding Twilight and Wind.

Wind only tucked his head back into the crook of Twilight’s neck, trying his best to ignore both the loud conversation happening around him and the blood he could feel trickling down his back.

What he wouldn’t give to be wrapped up in a warm blanket in front of a fire right now. Maybe with a cup of hot apple cider, cuddled up against one of the other heroes. Maybe Sky…. Sky was the best at cuddles, even if he had a tendency to fall asleep and then not let you go until he woke. But Wind wouldn’t mind that right now, to be honest.

He would love to be able to cuddle someone and have their arms wrapped around his back without any pain. Wind knew that was a wistful thought. No one would be touching his back without it causing pain anytime soon.

That stupid moblin had made sure of that.

Wind hoped one of the other heroes had killed it in a very painful way. He scowled into Twilight's neck at the thought of what had happened, and-

Oh, Twilight was moving again.

Great.

Wind sighed, and fought back tears. He was in pain and this whole situation sucked, but he was not going to cry.

He wasn’t.

He just felt dizzy. His thoughts were swimming and his muscles were too weak to support himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself to raise his head from where it was buried in Twilight’s pelt and try to focus on his surroundings. That was probably the effect of the blood loss and shock setting in, Wind thought faintly.

But then he had no choice but to move because Twilight was releasing Wind’s legs. Wind had half a second to panic, thinking he would hit the ground.

He didn’t. Instead, he found himself sitting on the edge of one of the beds inside the stables. Wind wondered briefly when they had moved inside, but decided it wasn’t the most important thing at the moment.

Suddenly, hands were touching him. For a few seconds, he resisted the touch. He didn’t know who was touching him and he did not appreciate it. But he was too weak to do anything about it and found himself being maneuvered anyways.

He found himself laying face down in the bed. His face rubbed into the fabric beneath him, and it took him a second to realize that it wasn’t the blankets he was feeling. It was a towel, spread out over the bed.

That was good. Wind was glad someone had thought to do that. He wouldn’t want to get blood on the stable’s bed. That would be pretty rude. But! With the towel under him, Wind could take a nap here and not get any blood on the bed! That sounded like a really good idea, in Wind’s humble opinion.

And now that he wasn’t constantly being jostled around by Twilight, the pain was actually starting to fade! It still hurt, but it was a dull background pain that he could ignore.

Wind didn’t know how long he lay there, content to drift in and out of awareness. He could hear people talking around him, and something that maybe sounded like an argument, but he didn’t worry about that. He was sure it would sort itself out without his help…

He gave a little sigh, rubbing his face against the rough fabric of the towel. It felt nice- a sensation to focus on other than the pain in his back.

He continued to drift for what felt like a long, long time. He wondered if the others had left so he could take a nap. That was nice of them…

A touch to his neck startled Wind out of his daze. He let out a startled breath, feeling too tired to try and say anything. Fingers pressed at Wind’s neck for a moment- feeling for a pulse, Wind realized- before they withdrew.

There was more talking, and then an expectant pause. Wind said nothing. If they wanted him to talk, they were out of luck. He couldn't summon up the energy to go wading through the fog that clouded his brain to pay attention to whoever was talking to him. He couldn't summon up the energy to anything,

After a few moments of silence, the voices picked up again, and then Wind felt a touch on his back.

His torn up back which was covered in open wounds and pierced by pieces of debris

Wind decided that he didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all.

Then the touch was moving and tugging something out of Wind’s skin, and Wind discovered that he did have the energy to scream and thrash, after all.

For one blissful moment, the touch was gone, and Wind was hopeful it would stay away. Then hands wrapped around his legs and his upper arms, and were pressing him down onto the bed, and Wind felt all his hope flickers away.

The torture seemed to go on forever. Every so often there would be a pause in the pain as the touch on his back drew away, and Wind would hope that it would be over. But all too soon, the touch would be back.

He couldn’t get away from it.

The hands clasped around his limbs were gentle but firm and unyielding. Wind hated that. He hated everything. Everything hurt, nothing was good, and the pain was never going to end.

There was another spike of pain from his back, like someone was digging their fingers into his existing wounds and tearing the cuts further open. Wind twisted, still trying to get away, but the hands stopped him again.

He gave a strangled grunt, his voice finally being pushed past the breaking point. He couldn’t scream anymore, but he could still move. His shoulders were still being held down by the hands pressing on his upper arms, but he could still move his arms. He reached out blindly, trying to find something to grasp onto, some bit of leverage that could get him away from this torture,

What he found instead was more fabric. Part of the towel, maybe?

No, it felt different.

Not caring what it might be, Wind gripped it hard, and used it to pull himself forward. To his surprise, the hands didn’t seem as prepared for this, and he was able to drag himself forward. There was a swell of noise around him that he ignored. The new fabric beneath him was soft, and the worry of staining the sheets was long gone from Wind’s mind, so he buried his head into it.

Apparently, the hands had decided Wind could stay where he had dragged himself. They didn’t shove him back to his previous position, but the torturous touch on his back returned.

Wind whimpered, not knowing what to do anymore.

Why was this happening?

Slowly, though, something trickled into his mind. He was hyper-aware of any and all sensations that weren’t pain in hopes of finding something to latch onto, something else to focus on. Slowly, ever so slowly, Wind realized the new fabric was warm under his touch.

He sucked in a shuddery breath, and before he registered what he was doing, Wind was lifting his head up to stare straight into a familiar face.

It took his brain a few seconds to register safety and comfort at the sight, and a few seconds more to register that the face belonged to Time.

Oh.

Wind was clinging onto Time’s pants, and he’d just had his face buried in Time’s lap.

Okay.

Wind knew in normal circumstances, he’d be embarrassed, but he didn’t care.

Time was here.

One of his brothers was here.

That meant everything would be okay, right?

Wind blinked up at Time, and the man looked down at Wind with an odd look on his face.

Wind wanted it all to stop, and Time was good at making painful things stop. When the teasing from the other heroes got to be too much, Time would step in. When Wind had been injured before, Time had stitched him up with gentle, steady hands. When Wind had been kept up with nightmares, Time had made him a cup of tea over the campfire, and let Wind lean against him without any questions.

Time had never failed to offer comfort before.

“Time,” Wind croaked, his voice ruined, “make it stop. Please, make it stop.”

But Time didn’t help. He was looking up, away from where Wind was being pinned down by his hands. Wind thought Time’s mouth might have been moving, but he couldn’t tell what Time was saying, let alone if the old man was speaking to Wind or someone else.

No matter what Time was saying, he wasn’t letting Wind go, so it didn’t matter.

Time wasn’t helping Wind, it wasn't making the pain stop.

Time was hurting him.

Wind was shaking now, unable to stop himself. He was too tired to cry, in too much pain the thrash anymore. Everything was getting worse, and no one was helping him.

It was a relief, really, when he finally slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

#whumptober 2023 #linked universe #mint's fanfiction #lu wind #lu twilight #lu time #lu warriors #whump #angst #lu wind agnst #blood #injuries #splinters

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