#makeshift splint

[abbycrashing]

They got separated from the Chain without their bags. Only things they had on them were Legend's fire rod (they may or may not have separated themselves from the Chain to mess with it before getting portaled even farther away) and a small roll of bandages.

I might write something for this latter...

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #21

xxx makeshift splint

"I can't believe we're getting a three-day weekend, and this is what we're doing with it. It's basically just orienteering. There's a reason they haven't made it an Olympic sport."

It takes every ounce of willpower and self control that Bradley has not to turn around in his seat and 1) explain to Seresin that orienteering isn't a spectator sport so of course it isn't in the Olympics and 2) smack Seresin upside the head. The man has been complaining off and on for much of the five hour drive, which would be bad enough under normal circumstances.

"Oh, c'mon. It's team building!" Garcia puts over-cheery emphasis on the last two words. None of them are actually happy about this little outing Mav had put together for them, but at least they don't feel the need to whine about it ever three seconds.

"Team building," Jake repeats flatly. "Is that why we're being pit against each other?"

"Don't even act like you don't love that," Nat says. "You turn everything into a competition."

"Yeah, because I really enjoy winning. That's going to be way harder with Rooster dragging me down."

Bradley stiffens in his seat, but very deliberately doesn't move from his position and instead stares more intently at the trees passing the van window. This has been his life the last few weeks: constant, pointed barbs meant to rile him up. Not that he and Seresin had gotten along that well before, but things have been so much worse since they'd drunkenly fallen into bed together for a one-night-stand. The night itself had actually been great, what he can remember of it. It's just everything that came after (Seresin, disappearing before the sun came up; Seresin, acting like nothing had happened; Seresin, being a complete raging asshole) that had sucked. Correction: that sucks. He'd known it was a bad idea at the time, but the whiskey sours and the dancing and Jake continually making steamy eye contact with him across the bar in a way that held felt at once obscene and thrilling had quieted that part of his brain enough for him to fuck things up.

"Bob, let me switch with you," Seresin is saying, but Bob just shakes his head.

"You heard the captain. No swaps allowed."

"You're just saying that because you get to share a tent with Phoenix." Bradley can hear the smirk in Seresin's voice. As Bob protests ("We have our own tents!") and Nat tells Seresin to grow the hell up, Bradley can picture that smirk growing. It makes him want to punch something. Preferably Seresin's stupid face.

This long weekend is going to be very long indeed.

-

They manage to make it through the first day without throttling each other, which is honestly a miracle. Each team had been dropped in a different location in the state forest equidistant from a single central checkpoint. The rules are simple: using a compass and a minimally detailed map, navigate to that point. No travel when the sun is down. No sabotage. No separating from your partner. Fastest team wins.

Maybe it's the fact that there's no one around to witness the blow-up that Jake is so obviously pushing for, or maybe it's his need to win, but Jake actually lays off of Bradley. He's still a sarcastic and snarky shit, but the personal jibes are kept to a minimum. Also, he's actually, weirdly, really good at this. Bradley gets a little nervous when they make camp for the night, but Seresin just pitches his tent and zips himself inside without a word.

Bradley stays outside a little longer, admiring the stars. A lot of the sky is covered by the thick forest canopy, but the bits of sky visible are crowded with bright points of light, all caught in the gauzy glow of the Milky Way. He even sees a shooting star.

I wish Jake keeps not being an asshole, he thinks up at the sky.

He doesn't really believe in wishes.

-

"You're being stupid," Bradley says.

"And you're being a pussy!"

Bradley's jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists. He wills his fingers to loosen, forces himself to take a deep breath. It's not explicitly stated anywhere in the rules, but he's fairly confident he isn't supposed to kick his teammate's ass.

"This way," he says, jabbing at the map in Jake's hands, "is way smoother terrain."

"Yeah, and it's also way slower." Jake enunciates each word like he's talking to a child.

"It's safer!"

He's so heated, so caught up in how angry he is at this stupid, stubborn asshole, that he doesn't notice that he's been moving steadily closer to a drop-off. And then he does notice, because suddenly he's falling. It isn't a long drop, maybe six or seven feet max, but it takes him by surprise and he throws out an arm to catch himself.

Mistake, he thinks just before impact. Pain rockets through his left arm, bad enough that his vision goes starry for a second and he feels a little nauseous. To add insult to injury, he can hear Seresin above him, laughing.

"You okay down there?" Seresin calls.

"Fuck you," Bradley responds. His voice sounds strained. He uses his good arm to push himself into a sitting position, his left one held tightly to his stomach as he does his best to keep it still. It still hurts like hell, and he tries not to groan but does anyway.

"Shit," Seresin says. "Hang tight, I'll be down in a second."

Bradley squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing, trying for deep and calming and landing somewhere short of that. But he's not hyperventilating, so that's good at least? His arm is throbbing sharply, and he doesn't need to look at it to know that it's probably broken. It's not even the pain that tips him off, but a general feeling of wrongness.

"Let me see."

He opens his eyes and Seresin is crouched in front of him, peering at him with genuine concern. He shakes his head and Seresin rolls his eyes.

"You're white as a sheet, Bradshaw, and holding that arm against you like your life depends on it. I saw you throw it out to try and catch yourself—you should never do that, by the way—so I'm guessing it's your arm and not your ribs. Let me see it."

Bradley reluctantly eases his arm away from his body and Seresin reaches forward, putting one hand under Bradley's elbow with surprising gentleness. It still sends shock waves of pain through Bradley's forearm, though, and he draws in a sharp gasp.

"Sorry," Jake murmurs. "Can you move your fingers?"

Bradley tries, and agony ripples up his arm. He shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip. "Nope. And...they're kinda tingly."

"Well. I think you broke your arm, Rooster," Jake says, half amusement and half utter disbelief. "Are you feeling dizzy at all? Cold?"

"No."

"Good. I don't think you're going into shock. I'm gonna call Mav on the sat phone and see what the next steps are."

"The sat phone is for emergencies," Bradley says, and Seresin raises an eyebrow.

"And what do you think this is, exactly? You broke your fucking arm. I'm calling Mav."

Jake stands, pacing as he makes the call.

"Yeah, we've got a bit of a situation. I'm pretty sure Bradshaw broke his arm... Fell on it... Let me ask." He puts his hand over the mouthpiece and looks over at Bradley. "Can you walk?"

Bradley glares at him. "I didn't break my leg."

Seresin pulls an irritated face, then moves his hand away from the phone. "Yeah, he can walk. That'll be faster than getting an extraction out to us, I think... Yes, sir... Yes sir, you got it."

He ends the call and returns the phone to his pack, then opens a different pocket and starts digging around.

"So?" Bradley prompts.

"So, we're going to walk a few miles east to the ranger station, unless you seem like you aren't doing well and then they're sending reinforcements to carry your ass out. But first I'm going to splint that arm."

"The checkpoint is west," Bradley says, and immediately wishes he hadn't because obviously that doesn't matter anymore. Seresin looks at him like he's stupid, which is fair.

"Yeah, we're done with the training exercise, Bradshaw. You're not spending another night out here with that arm fracture." He walks over with the items he'd pulled from his pack in hand. "Here."

He hands Bradley two small pills, which Bradley pops into his mouth without question, then uncaps a water bottle and hands that to Bradley so he can wash them down.

"It's just acetaminophen," Jake says with an air of mild apology, "but it's better than nothing."

"Is it?" Bradley says, and Seresin grimaces.

"Maybe not that much better. This is gonna suck. Just remember to keep on breathing. If you pass out on me, we're definitely going to have to just sit here and wait for extraction."

"Keep breathing, don't pass out. Got it."

This proves more difficult than Bradley was anticipating, which is ridiculous considering his first action upon entering this life had been to take a breath, and he's been doing so every minute of every day for the thirty years since. But the pain as Seresin carefully splints his arm, first wrapping the injured limb in a spare sweatshirt and then tying two sticks (literal sticks that he found on the ground) to it, is brutal, and he keeps catching himself holding his breath.

"Almost done," Seresin says. "Do you have an extra shirt in your pack?"

Bradley nods. "Big pocket."

Seresin hurries over to Bradley's pack and pulls out a thermal shirt, bringing it back to Bradley.

"A sling'll help it keep from moving too much as we walk," Jake says, easing the body of the shirt under Bradley's arm. Then he leans forward to tie the sleeves together behind Bradley's neck, and their faces are so close together that Bradley can feel the other man's breath tickling his cheek.

Don't think about it.

"Where'd you learn to do all of that?" he asks, eager to think about something—anything—other than their proximity.

"There we go," Jake says after a moment, then leans back on his heels before lowering himself onto the dirt. He grins broadly, holding up three fingers in salute. "Boy Scouts of America. I earned every single merit badge."

Bradley's surprise at this is almost enough to make him forget about the pain in his arm for a second, and he almost laughs. "Yeah, being an Eagle Scout isn't the flex you think it is."

"Okay, first of all," Seresin says, sounding offended, "earning every merit badge is actually super rare. Second, I never made Eagle."

"But you just said--"

"Blew it with the review board," Jake interrupts, and a broad grin splits his features. "Got caught making out with the chairman's son in the locker room after the Homecoming game."

Bradley's ears go hot, and he's horrified to find that he's actually...what, jealous? It's humiliating. Jake seems to notice, because his smile widens further.

"You wish it'd been you?"

"Shut up," Bradley says. "Shouldn't we get going?"

Seresin laughs. "Yeah, let's get going."

He holds a hand out and Bradley reluctantly takes it. Seresin hauls him to his feet and he sways a little, his vision darkening at the edges as the world seems to pitch under his feet. Jake's grip on his good arm tightens.

"Whoa, come on Bradshaw! You're not fainting on me after all of that."

"I'm good," Bradley gasps, swallowing hard. His vision clears, the ground beneath him steadying, and he says it again with more conviction. "I'm good."

"Good. C'mon, we've got quite a bit of ground to cover."

He starts walking and Bradley follows, the ache in his arm unrelenting, occasionally sharpening to something close to intolerable. As he trudges miserably along, he thinks that breaking his arm in what is probably the most embarrassing way possible, in front of Jake no less, is the worst thing that could've happened on this trip.

He doesn't know yet that he's very wrong, and that before the end of this, things are going to get a whole lot worse.

xxx to be continued...

[starlight0825]

Sold my soul, broke my bones

Damian perches on top of a gargoyle, his cape flapping behind him. The mask on his face feels heavy, everything weighing on him. Bruce is talking to Talia. Apparently Ra’s is insisting he come home. And while Damian knows that his family could take on the LOA, he knows they wouldn’t win without killing. So either they’ll end up dead themselves, or betraying what they believe in, and Damian doesn’t know what to do. He wants to hide, to let his family protect him, but the reasonable part of him knows they can’t. That no one can protect him from his fate, and he never should have let himself believe that this would last forever, that he wouldn’t have to go back.

He has to stand up on his own two feet now, and deal with his own problems. He’s a different boy than the lonely, vindictive, and sad child he was when he arrived here, but he’s pushed right back to that mindset at the idea of going back. He stares out at the city. He’s not running, no he only wants to see the city for the last time like this, wants to wear the mask one more time. It’s quiet, cars zooming by are the only source of sound. Damian closes his eyes, the wind whipping his hair. Finally, he slips his comm back into his ear.

“Damian, are you there? Come on, talk to me,” Dick begs.

“I’m here, Richard. I wasn’t ignoring you, I was taking a minute.”

“Oh, good. I thought you were going to…”

“Run? No, I’m not running. I’m coming home now. I’ll be packing my bags.”

He flips the comm off before Dick can respond. He arrives at the manor half an hour later, and Dick is waiting in the cave for him.

“What do you mean by you’re packing your bag?” he asks as Damian changes clothes.

“I’m going to pack my things.” He slips out, heading for the stairs. “Because I’m going back with Mother and Grandfather.”

“Bruce said that? He agreed?”

“I don’t know if he’s finished speaking to them, but if Grandfather has made up his mind, then there’s no changing it. I will be going home one way or the other, and this will lead to less punishment for me, and less pain for all of you.”

“Come on, have some faith in us, Dames.”

Damian turns on his heel, hand on the banister. “You think this is about you? I know them, and there’s no other way for this to end without bloodshed. The LOA is huge, and you can’t beat them. You can fight them, but there is no winning. So I’m going back, and I’ll continue my training there. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Dick stops, his mouth agape. Damian continues to his room, shutting the door. Tears prick his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Instead he packs his weapons, and essentials. Then he takes a bag of special items, and goes to hide them somewhere in the manor that no one will find them, so that if he ever makes it back, he can still have all the things that are important to him. Bruce is walking back in, rubbing his face when Damian makes his way back down the stairs.

“What happened?”

“He said you have to come back. He’s sending a plane tonight, but you’re not getting on it. I won’t make you.”

“You don’t have to make me. I will be getting on it of my own volition.”

Bruce stops, his face screwed up. “What do you mean?”

Damian contemplates being honest, but he knows that Bruce wouldn’t let him leave if he tells him he’s doing it for them.

“I want to go back. I miss my… home, and I miss my mother.” Damian’s heart hurts, his chest aching as Bruce frowns.

“Are you… sure?”

Damian nods, unable to speak. “I’m going to their private airstrip now. Might as well wait there.”

Bruce doesn’t even have a chance to respond before Damian darts past him out of the door. He knows that it’s cruel of him to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, but he doesn’t care. He can’t stand to be there knowing he can’t stay. So he walks all the way to the airstrip, staying away from the road in case Bruce goes out driving, looking for him. The plane lands an hours after he arrives, and Talia steps off. She brushes her hair back, eyes scanning the area for Damian. He waves, stepping forward. Talia walks to him, wrapping a gentle arm around him.

“It’s good to see you, darling.”

“Hello, Ommi.”

“Come, we’ll speak in the car, and you can tell me all about your training with your father.”

Damian follows Talia back into the plane, and throws himself down into a seat. Talia sits beside him. She asks about his training, and his learning while he was away, but he doesn’t say much. Mostly one word answers, and ducking away from the questions. Talia eventually goes quiet, though he can see her pursed lips, knows she’s angry. He’s dropped off at his room to unpack as soon as they get there while Talia goes to talk to Ra’s. Damian puts his Gotham clothes into a chest that he pushes under his bed. He’ll probably never need them again, but all of his other clothes were placed in his closet already.

Must have been made for his new measurements when Ra’s decided he wanted Damian back. It’s not long before a servant comes to take Damian to speak with him. Talia stands off to the side of Ra’s throne, looking just as brainwashed and silent as she always does around him. Damian only glances at her, refusing to make eye contact. Damian ignores his instincts. They tell him to get down, and to speak up to Ra’s. Instead he makes eye contact, raising an eyebrow, but not saying anything. Ra’s narrows his eyes.

“Kneel.”

He doesn’t protest, but he doesn’t move either. After a few seconds, Ra’s stands.

“What has gotten into you, child? They said you’d gone weak in that city, been corrupted, but I didn’t think it could be true. You’ll have to prove yourself back into this family. Get your attitude corrected. I think I’ll take you to the arena until then. But for now, kneel.”

When Damian doesn’t move again, he motions the guards forward. One kicks Damian’s right knee, and the other one grabs his shoulder, and forces him onto his knees. The one that kicked him forces his head down, and Damian bites him, knocking the other man away. He’s taken out by more guards then, dragged down to the arena. Most of the time it was used for training tournaments, but when a traitor is uncovered, they put a bunch of the prisoners into a tournament, the traitor fighting each and every one of them. If they make it, which they don’t normally, Damian has only seen it happen one time, then they get the honor of being killed by Talia herself. He’s never seen a tournament set up for someone to win their way back into honor, or maybe they’ll keep pitting him against whoever they see fit until he’s broken again. Bent back to their will.

Some part of him wonders if he dies if they’ll throw him into the pit. It wouldn’t be the first time. Ra’s would get overzealous in training Damian, or more commonly, in punishing Damian for not being good enough. He’s died a few times, once even on a mission, one of his first. His training was ramped up after that, since it was seen as a failure. Damian is thrown into a cell, his knee aching. There’s shuffling on the other side of the cell, and a familiar face peers back at him.

“Bakar?” Damian asks, leaning forward.

The man nods. Damian had trained under him for a few weeks, and he’s a skilled assassin.

“What are you doing here?” Bakar asks before Damian can ask the same question.

“I refused to kneel before Grandfather upon my arrival back from Gotham… I’m here to learn respect again.”

“If you didn’t wish to be here, why come back?”

“You’re one to be asking. You know what they do to people who try to leave.”

“Yes, but you can take care of yourself. You could get away.”

“But my family could not. I sold my soul to a demon for their lives,” Damian replies, narrowing his eyes.

“Ah, your father?”

“And his sons and daughter. My brothers, my sister. Turns out my Father has quite the adoption problem. Now what landed you here?”

“I was accused of stealing from your grandfather. I don’t know what happened to the item, but I never saw it.”

Damian hums, stretching his knee out. He massages it until the ache goes away. They sit in silence for a few hours before the cell door slide opens again.

“Change into something worthy of your fighting title,” the guard says, throwing clothes at Damian.

Damian changes quickly, and the guard insists on taking his other clothes. These remind him of the clothes he went to Gotham in, and he suddenly thinks of how much of a different person he is now. He would have never dreamed of defying Ra’s before. Bakar turns to him.

“You’ll be sent somewhere soon if they’re having you change.”

“I know, and I’m prepared to handle the consequences of my insubordination. Might be better than settling back into the fold,” Damian says with a small laugh.

They both know what would have been easier for Damian, but Bakar doesn’t say anything. He can feel the difference in Damian since the last time he saw him, and some part of him can’t help but respect that. Damian stands, and the door creaks open again. He’s escorted out by a guard, and he’s taken to the arena. The ground is sandy, and the stands are made out of carved stone. Damian looks around. It’s not his first time fighting in this arena, but it’s his first time fighting to the death here. He also hasn’t killed in months, almost a year.

Honestly it feels like forever, and it wasn’t something he chose for himself, but the fact still comes to mind in this situation. He wonders if Bruce would be ashamed of him for what happens here, if Grayson would be. Damian shakes his head, turning to see who’s coming through. It’s a mercenary, one that Damian had wanted to hunt down a few months ago, but he’d been told not to since he’d left Gotham by the time they figured out who he was. He has a knife, and at least two throwing stars in his belt. It’s clear he doesn’t think he needs them from how he smirks at Damian. Damian steps forward, shifting his weight from foot to foot, loosening up his tight muscles. The mercenary runs towards him, moving extremely fast.

Damian waits, analyzing him as he gets closer. Then he steps out of the way, grabbing the man’s arm. He swings up onto the man’s back before snapping his neck to the side. Enough to give him whiplash, but not enough to break his neck. Damian plucks the knife out of his hand with a grin. It feels heavy in his hands, almost like it holds the weight of the man’s life, whom he hasn’t even killed yet. Damian looks around, narrowing his eyes at the people in the stands around him. There are some he recognizes, including Talia and Ra’s, who are sitting in a special seating area reserved for them.

He takes another step forward, towards the middle of the arena, then tosses the knife to the side. He stands there, looking out at them, and a few gasps can be heard from the especially shocked people. Eventually a guard comes to remove the loser, and another man is brought out. There are three more fights that night, and Damian refuses to kill any of them. Even when one grabs his already injured knee upon him stepping away, slamming him to the ground. The resulting snap from his leg could be heard from anywhere in the stadium. Damian thought he had knocked the man out, but that wasn’t the case. He knocks him out then before stumbling to his feet.

Then he stands completely still until a guard finally caves, and comes to get the latest loser. He does the last fight with his broken knee screaming in pain, but he still wins, and refuses to kill them again. He can see how angry Ra’s is getting, so it’s no surprise when he’s thrown into a moldy, small, hot cell. He doesn’t mind though, more focused on his knee. He pops it back into place before using the shaft of one of his opponent’s spear and cloak to splint his throbbing knee. His vision starts to black out then, but he forces himself to stay awake, and aware. Which is good since Ra’s comes up to the door, sliding the screen at the top open.

“What are you doing, Damian? What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I won, like you wanted.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“You wanted me to suffer, and cave. And I’m sure it will happen eventually, but it’s happening on my terms.”

Ra’s storms away, not even caring to shut the screen. Damian drops his head back, leaning against the wall with a tired sigh.

[assortedcriminality]

Sold My Soul, Broke My Bones - no. 21

kneeling | makeshift splint | brainwashed

CW: weapons, injuries, mention of death

Hero climbed the grand staircase, resplendent in purple garb. The rays of the setting sun shone in through the enormous, intricately shaped windows, highlighting the planes of their face and the gloss of their hair. A long red carpet was set along the stairs, held in place with heavy brass rods. Hero had to focus to walk normally, their left leg set at the slightest of limps.

Royal guards lined the hall below them, one in front of each great marble column. Every inch of the hall was polished to perfection, almost sparkling in the light. On the back wall hung six massive banners, each emblazoned with the color and crest of a ruling house. Hero felt a distant pang at the sight of the two in the middle; one a familiar cerulean and the other a regal violet. 

Hero had just passed the first half of the stairs when their pace began to slow. Their ankle twinged, shifting their gait. It was entirely involuntary, as if their body was screaming at them to stop, to turn and run away. They forced themself to keep going, but they tilted their head down. Below the banners was a throne, they knew, and they had to show reverence for the person who sat in it. 

They took another step.

Sold my soul. 

An exchange of coin, the shaking of hands. The steady aim of a marksman. An arrow loosened, a heart struck. Blue cloth stained a violent orchid, a body sprawled across the floor. My liege… I am so sorry. Your father was found dead this morning.

Hero breathed in slowly, closed their eyes.

Another step. 

Broke my bones.

Chains around their wrists, securing them to the dingy stone. A silver dagger curved to a wicked point, a leather whip with a well-worn handle. Skin covered in bruises and scars and blood. Cracked ribs and an ankle secured haphazardly to a rotting board, set at almost the right angle. Say that you belong to me. Tell me you’re mine. 

They kept going, suppressing a wince as a flame of pain encircled their left leg, burning as they climbed higher. 

Darling, I just love hearing you scream.

Poor little royal, thought you’d get all the power. Now you kneel to me. 

Now you kneel to me. 

Kneel to me.

“Kneel to me,” a dark voice commanded, and Hero obeyed instantly, dropping gracefully to one knee and placing a hand over their chest. They had reached the top of the stairs. The throne stood only a few feet away. In the top of their peripheral vision, they could see the expensive boots of the person it belonged to come closer, stopping just before them. 

“Who do you belong to?” The person asked softly. 

“You, my lord.” 

“Good. Look at me.”

Hero lifted their head without hesitation. In front of them stood the lord of the kingdom, wearing the finest robes of the land, glorious in shades of mauve and lavender. They knew that face. They knew those hands, warm and hardened and callused. They knew that they had a tattoo of their family crest on the back of their neck, forever marked in purple ink. 

Supervillain smiled, exposing sharp canines. “Oh, yes. This will do very nicely.”

@macknus @whumplicity @whumpwritinglover222 @lazytoshiko @jumpywhumpywriter (ask to be added/removed for Whumptober)

[obitez]

Helicopter - Whumptober Day 21

Here's another, featuring Helicopter Parent Tommy Kinard Also on Ao3

Buck had to roll his eyes as he watched Tommy following their kids around the playground, standing no more than two steps behind their youngest. It was cute when they were two and three, Buck had to admit. But now their kids were eight and nine. A bit too outgrown for the particular playground they were at, and Tommy still followed them around like they only began to walk last week. 

“I think they’ll be okay to play by themselves for a couple minutes,” Buck said, raising his voice so Tommy could hear him. 

“Yeah Dad,” Louie said, pushing Tommy away from him. “We can go down the slide on our own.” 

Tommy huffed. “I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.” 

“You’re too big for this slide, Daddy,” Megan said as she sat down at the top of the slide. 

“Yeah,” Buck called out from where he was sitting on the bench at the side of the playground. “You’re too big for that slide!” 

Tommy shook his head, looking around at all of them like they were crazy. He did, in the end, leave the kids to their own adventure as he climbed down from the playground and took a seat on the bench next to Buck. 

“They’re growing up too fast,” Tommy said after a moment as their two kids completed their third race down the slides. 

“Oh trust me, I know,” Buck said. “That doesn’t mean we need to keep acting like they’re not growing up. They can have some playtime on their own from time to time.” 

Tommy sat on that response for a little bit. He didn’t like it, but he knew he needed to accept it. “I guess you have a point,” he said. 

“We’re going to the swings,” Louie said, running up to them a couple minutes later. 

“Okay,” Buck said, waving them in that direction. When it looked like Tommy was about to get up to follow them, Buck tightened his grip around Tommy’s shoulders. “They’ll be okay,” he repeated. 

Tommy huffed as he sat back, watching the two kids run off to the swing. Last summer Megan learned how to use the swings by herself, no longer needing anyone to push her. 

Tommy had been moping around for a week after that. 

“They’re growing up too fast,” Tommy grumbled after a couple minutes. 

Buck hummed. “They really are,” he said. “That still doesn’t mean you need to be following around after them every step they take.” 

“Sue me for making sure they don’t get hurt,” Tommy grumbled. 

It was at that second that Louie thought it would be a great idea to try to jump off the swing when it reached the peak of its swing. And while the other three kids who had tried it in the minutes before all made a clean and safe landing, Louie didn’t. 

He was going down almost face first, but luckily enough he was able to put his arms out to try and break his fall. It didn’t stop the boy from screaming out once he landed. 

Tommy and Buck immediately got up and ran over to him. 

“Louie!” Tommy yelled the boy’s name out as he stopped right next to him, his knees crashing to the ground as he saw their son laying with his back on the ground, his left arm curled up tight around his chest. 

Buck followed only a couple steps behind Tommy, dropping down on the other side of Louie, Megan ran up standing right behind Buck’s shoulder. 

Louie turned to Tommy, tears starting to run down his face. “Daddy, it hurts!” he nearly screamed, the sound breaking both Tommy and Buck’s hearts. 

Tommy gently took hold of the boy’s shoulders, trying to project calmness. “Hey, hey, everything’s okay,” Tommy said. 

And then the two men got a look at the boy’s left arm that was tight against his chest, it did not look good at all. 

Tommy and Buck shared a quick look. They didn’t need to call 911, it wasn’t that serious, but they did need to get their son to a hospital. The arm was clearly broken, bent at an odd angle that certainly wasn’t good, but the bone hadn’t broken through the skin. 

“Alright Louie,” Tommy said as he moved one arm below the boy’s knees and the other around his shoulders. “I’m going to pick you up and take you to the truck so we can get a better look at your arm alright?” 

Through his tears, Louie gave a quick nodding, showing he understood. Tommy gently picked Louie up and walked the boy as fast as he could without jostling him too much back to their pickup truck in the nearby parking lot. Buck and Megan followed a couple steps after them. 

Getting to the truck, Tommy set down the back of the truck bed and sat Louie on it. He took a breath as he looked back down at Louie’s arm, examining it again. It… didn’t look good. 

They were definitely going to need to go to the ER, there were no questions about that. 

Buck sat Megan down next to Louie, as he also turned his eyes to the boy’s arm. “I’ll get the first aid kit,” Buck said as he went to where Tommy stored it in the front of the truck. 

When Buck came back, they opened the kit up. It had everything they could imagine needing to treat kids on the days they took them out of the house. Bandages, gauze, alcohol wipes, an ice pack. Or well, it had almost everything. It didn’t have any splints. 

Tommy cursed to himself as he remembered that he had just cleaned his truck out yesterday, removing a lot of the random things that had been collecting in the back seat. Sure, they had a first aid kit still in there, but it didn’t have anything they could use to make a splint. 

Tommy quickly looked around, looking for anything he could use to keep Louie’s arm still. Then he spotted what looked to be a cardboard box on the ground next to one of the trash cans. And well, it was better than nothing. 

“Evan, can you go grab that box?” Tommy asked his husband. 

“Yeah,” Buck said as he ran to grab it. 

As he waited for Buck to get back, Tommy looked Louie up and down, checking for any other possible injuries. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done that yet, most of his focus was consumed by the first thing he saw - his son’s mangled arm. 

“Does anywhere besides your arm hurt, bud?” Tommy asked. 

Louie shook his head hard, more tears streaming down his face. Megan looked at her older brother in deep concern. 

“Is Louie going to be okay, Daddy?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Tommy said in the most reassuring voice he could manage right now. “We just got to fix him up a little bit and then take him to the hospital.” 

Buck came back with the cardboard box. One of the empty boxes from a twelve pack of soda, likely from one of the parties they saw going on earlier. It didn’t really matter though, Tommy thought. At least this cardboard was relatively flexible. 

Tommy moved quickly, folding the box up and placing it around Louie’s arm, wrapping one of the gauze rolls around it as best as he could so that the limb wouldn’t move around much as they traveled to the emergency room. 

Somehow, arriving at the ER, they had gotten lucky in that, even on a Saturday afternoon, there wasn’t much of a wait for them to be seen. It didn’t take much of anything to convince the hospital staff that the boy had broken his arm, and the X-rays only proved it. 

A fractured radius and ulna. The doctor said they were lucky the bones hadn’t broken through the skin. 

Tommy couldn’t see how any of this was ‘lucky.’ His kid was in pain, even after getting some pain medication, and three hours after falling off the swing he was still in tears (although they had significantly lessened by now). Even though the doctors said Louie was going to have a full recovery, it would still take two to three months.  

What was worse is that they were only two weeks from the start of summer vacation. The cast would need to stay on for at least seven weeks, almost half of the kid’s summer. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to get him a waterproof cast?” Buck asked Tommy, their two kids out asleep, Megan from the exhaustion of everything that had happened that day, Louie from that and the pain meds the medical staff had given him. “He loves swimming, how are we going to be able to stop him from over his summer break?” 

“We can ask,” Tommy said, wrapping an arm around Buck’s shoulders and pulling him to his side. “I’m sure they’ll have an option for it.” They were in LA, a place that was perpetually in summer swimming mode, and waterproof casts had been around for at least fifteen years now. Tommy would be more surprised if they didn’t have an option. 

Buck blinked his eyes up at Tommy, giving the man a serious look. “You’re still going to be following them all around the playgrounds, aren’t you?” he asked. 

“After everything that happened today?” Tommy asked. “Definitely.”

[quietlyimplode]

Everything in Transit

An accident leaves Natasha without her memories, without anyone to guide her, and the Red Room chasing after her, the odds are not in her favour… unless those that love her find her first.

Whumptober 2025: Day 21 - Makeshift Splint

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Tony helps, despite it all.

Whumptober Masterlist/Masterlist of Fic / ao3

.

LONDON/ OCTOBER 04/ 17:19PM

Tony’s leg hurts, it’s in a cumbersome splint that they’ve assured him will come off, but it’s taking too long.

The painkillers are good but he’s asked them to move off the button dispenser to just the tablets.

The nurses are over his shit, he’s sure.

Pepper sits on the chair to his left, clicking on her computer, only stopping to answer the phone.

Tony is annoyed.

She has a concussion, and a broken arm and still she’s doing more work than what he’s sure shield is doing, to look for Natasha.

He’s terrified for his friend.

From what Clint has told Steve and their assumptions, the explosions were for Natasha.

Their wedding just helped her old handlers come after her because he insisted on making some things public.

Not that she hadn’t been before but never before had she photographed so openly, with so much information about where she would be.

It’s his fault.

“Go back to sleep, Tony,” Pepper prompts over the computer.

“I’m awake,” he complains.

“Yeah but you have had a rough couple of days,” she argues.

“So have you.”

She folds the laptop and looks at him.

“Are you okay?”

He nods.

She gets up and lays down next to him, the small bed creaking as he hugs her close.

“Where do you think she is, Pep?”

He feels her shrug and sigh against him.

“I don’t know.”

.

Pepper wakes up to the glowing light of her laptop.

She can hear Tony, doing something, but she’s in two minds whether to catch him out on it or just let it be to the morning.

“Pep, are you awake?” he whispers, “it’s okay if you’re not, I just need a hand.”

She wakes at that.

In her experience, Tony needing a hand meant anything from open heart surgery to holding a wrench.

“You should be asleep,” she tells him, eyes still closed.

“But… I couldn’t sleep and now I’ve done something,” he says not too quietly.

She’s up.

She’s awake.

Glancing at her watch and groaning that her sleep score is most definitely ruined, again, she ignores her pounding head and stares.

“Tony. How did the bottom half of the iron man suit get here?”

She pauses.

“and how do we now have two laptops?”

He struggles to look contrite but fails.

“Well. One comes when I can call it… it just took a while from America and the other, well, do you know you can get deliveries to the hospital?”

Pepper shakes her head.

He looks over to the box that held the laptop and shakes his head.

“Neither did I.”

“I just need some help putting pants on, and then I can put the iron man suit on. And then maybe we can leave?”

Pepper stares.

“Tony, it’s almost midnight.”

He nods.

“I think I found Natasha, and I want to help, I’ve been in bed too long and she’s missing, and Clint’s on his own mission, Steve is struggling and they tried to kill us.”

His anger leads to balled up fists and he stares upwards, unwilling to let the tears even form.

“So can you help me put pants on?”

Pepper sighs.

It’s not worse than anything else he’s had her do, and luckily they had taken the pins out in the second surgery, making the wound closed instead of still open.

She’d done her own detective work too.

“It’ll hurt,” she warns.

“I know.”

She balls up his pants and threads them onto his feet; inching them up over his cast.

“These also delivered?” she asks, wondering where they’d come from.

“Amazing what you can get,” he smiles.

She bunches them up and slides them underneath him, kissing him on the head and pulling them up again.

She feels the sheen of sweat under his hips and knocks her head against his.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she whispers.

“I know.”

Instead of stopping, he calls the suit towards him, first letting it fit to his feet, slowly growing up his legs until it he commands it to stop at his hips.

“Makeshift splint,” he grins, “think it will work?”

She shrugs, unsure but hopeful.

“Have you had any painkillers?”

He nods.

“Are you going to try standing?”

He nods again.

Pepper wonders if she should call the nurse, but decides against it, hoping this is not the weirdest thing they’ve ever seen.

.

The safe-house feels busier with Diana and Maria in it.

Yelena doesn’t like being around so many people.

She wants to leave, and go looking for Natasha, now they have information about where she started, Yelena is sure she can track her.

The last two days seems like a series of back and forth movements, two steps forwards one step back.

She knows they needed to get Diana to safety but the time that it took… she wants to be out searching.

She knows what it feels like to wake up with no memory of how you got somewhere and how horrible it felt to not be able to grasp any memories.

Natasha needs them, too.

Clint’s phone rings again, but he seems to be in heated conversation with Maria about the logistics of safety.

She’s ready to throw knives or just leave.

It’s only been five minutes but the bureaucracy of having an employer does not feel like it’s for her.

Clint had said that once Diana was safe they could go.

A sentiment she agreed with.

But now, Maria had questions.

The phone is incessant and she picks it up, even just to make it stop.

“Clint Barton’s phone,” she answers looking at her fingers.

The clock switches over to midnight in the moment that everything changes.

“I’ve found her,” the voice on the other end says.

“What?”

“Wait, who is this?”

“No, no, go back, you’ve found her?” Yelena’s heart almost stops.

“Who is this?”

Clint takes the phone out of her hands and puts it on speaker.

“Tony?”

“Clint?”

“I’m here,” Clint replies, looking at Yelena.

“Who was that?”

“It doesn’t matter, what did you just say?”

“I think I’ve found her, I found her at St Pancras and she went to Gare du Nord,” he starts.

“I lost her after that, but I’ve got alerts on for all forms of transport, even the car rental companies.”

Yelena snorts at that.

“She wouldn’t rent a car.”

Clint throws her a look, before Tony asks again who’s with him.

“So she’s in Paris?”

Tony pauses.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Yelena is already standing, and Clint places an arm on her.

“Can you check the trains again in the morning? When does the first one leave?”

“7:07am,” comes the reply.

Yelena doesn’t care, she’ll sleep in the train station if it means getting to Natasha first.

She knows what it feels like to be alone and confused with no memories making sense.

She doesn’t want that for Natasha.

Physical or chemical control is not the same, but both?

She wonders how Maria got here and if she can steal her car.

Clint seems to know what she’s thinking and shakes his head.

“We can drive there,” he assures, hanging up the phone.

In that moment she sees him, sees just how worried he’s been as well.

Yelena sighs, conceding to wait.

She’s not alone in this.

.

[inejinn]

Snark-less emergency

Whumptober : Day 21 : Prompt : Makeshift splint.

quick/small one because i'm a little tired today

set pre-canon! include teen Vi dealing with mylo's ankle and ekko's freaking out

There's tears sparkling in Ekko's eyes. Vi curses internally, then externally once she notices the way Mylo's standing off of his leg.

If she ends up with two boys crying she's gonna freak the fuck out.

"What happened?", she freaks anyway. How does Vander ever manage to keep his calm when they get into trouble??

"He- he, we had to run and then-"

Ekko's breath catches on a sob that's very persistent at getting out. She feels her face turns into a wince. She's going to freak out. How come she still doesn't know how to comfort any other kids than Powder???

Mylo cuts both of them off by sitting heavily down on the couch all out of the sudden.

"There were assholes we had to run from" he goes, face blank. ",had to keep running after I slipped trying to taunt them.", he easily admits his failure. Mylo? Admitting his wrongs without fighting about it before? Willingly ? That's what makes Vi finally jump into action. Or, at the boy's side.

"Ekko. Go join Powder", she orders.

"But-"

"She's right outside the bar with Claggor.", she insists. "Come on, shoo."

"i'm taking care of it. C'mon, go.", she adds when she notices Ekko still hovering in a corner of her vision.

There's no tears in the pant at all, so that at least means he probably didn't cut himself on whatever he crashed on when he fell. She can't see blood, but that doesn't mean anything given how dark it is in here and- Mylo rolls his leg pant up.

He finally does just when she gets to see Mylo's ankle. Boy is she glad for that. It doesn't look that horrendous, but it's not exactly pretty either. It's flushed red, no blood, but Mylo does gasps when she touches it to check.

Fuck. Of course Vander had to choose this specific afternoon to run off for his errands.

"Did you hear anything crack when you fell?", she asks.

"No", he answers. Not even a snarky answer. She frowns.

"Okay. Okay, I'm gonna assume you only sprained it." He ran on it and it doesn't look like he's been crying, so she's gonna assume it's not broken. Hopefully. He doesn't react. Not even a comment to complain a sprain is not just a "only" type of problem.

"Just gonna.. make a splint and we'll wait until Vander comes back.", she decides as soon as the idea crosses her mind. You can never be too careful, and it's definitely sprained if not broken, so. Yeah: she's doing that.

"Stay there.", she orders him. He doesn't even snark back he can't run away : he just scowls. Huh. Fuck. That's how she knows he's definitely not feeling okay. He'd be complaining off to no end if it was the case.

She runs up the stairs as quick as she can to slam the backdoor open. There.

She gets back inside and downstairs not even 5 full minutes later.

Crate Vander was keeping there for Powder's next DIY. She'll say sorry to her later. She wastes no time dismantling it to grab one of the smaller pannel.

Mylo keeps being uncharacteristically quiet. She'd except him to be whining random complaints, or even cursing but, nope. Nothing.

She's going to have to get to the bottom of this. Later.

He's clutching onto her shoulder so hard she's feeling kind of bad about tightening the wood pannel against his leg. Almost. She does need to for the splint to do its job, though, so..

"Yknow you can cry, right?"

"Like hell i'm going to", he mumbles with a scowl.

She doesn't miss the way he coincidentally turns and tucks her head into one of their pillow right after. She's not blind.

She still turns a blind eye to the way his shoulders start quivering. She's not blind, but she's not such an asshole she'll point out what's going on.

She'll do that later. Or get Vander on Mylo's ass so he can do just that instead. He's so much better at all that comforting stuff in his own gruff bear way.

What's she supposed to do once she's done with the splint? Tell him to go to sleep?

She's wishing for his snark to be back, can you believe it? This is the worst.

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober 2025 Fills Part 4: Storm

AO3

Fandom: Linked Universe

Central Character(s): Sky, Wild

Day Four: “Don’t be scared, I’ve done this before.” | Non-human Whumper | Iron Rod | Loss of Powers

Day Eight: “Oh horror, oh horror, what did you see?” | Self-Inflicted Injury | Held at Gunpoint | Dissociation

Day Ten: “There’s nothing you can ever say, nothing you can ever do.” | Without Consent | Secrets | Lips Sewn Shut

Day Fifteen: “You can take a break, if you just tell me that it hurts.” | Failed Rescue Attempt | Body Part in the Mail | Live-Streamed Torture

Day Eighteen: “As the world caves in.” | Dystopia | Ruins | Environmental Whump

Day Twenty-One: “Sold my soul, broke my bones.” | Kneeling | Makeshift Splint | Brainwashed

Day Twenty-Two: “All the battles I want to win, nothing matters but giving in.” | Self-Sacrifice | Collar | Hunted for Sport

Loose continuation of Meeting and Memory (Whumptober 2024 Part 2) (links to AO3 and Tumblr)

---

Sky had once been used to the Surface being almost entirely deserted. The fact that they hadn't been able to find a town or even a village where they could get help for the injured members of the Chain wouldn't have been a surprise to him before. On the Surface, there were no human - Hylian - settlements except for the one he and Zelda had founded.

However, that hadn't been the case in any of the others' eras and he'd gotten used to denser settlement. Now the emptiness unsettled him. It didn't help that while there were precious few settlements there were plenty of ruins. He didn't want to consider what that might mean for this era's history.

He shook his head slightly to drag himself back to the present and focused on the worn path he'd been following, pulling his sailcloth closer and hunching his shoulders against the pouring rain.

This Hyrule was so huge. He knew the Surface was huge too, but he had gotten so used to being able to find villages quickly, even in the wide spans of wilderness in Hyrule's era. It didn't help that they still hadn't tracked down the local hero, though grey had heard stories about him. Legend even thought he'd met him briefly, but he had a teleportation item and had run for it.

Sky tried not to think about the description of the wounds Legend said the teen had still been suffering when he disappeared. None of them had wanted to consider the possibility that he'd not survived them and they were looking for a dead man.

Then he heard something from the nearest set of ruins. He frowned, straining his ears against the sound of the pounding rain, and this time he was sure: a crash of weapon on shield.

With a muttered curse, he turned and ran towards the ruins. Several times now they'd helped travellers who were being attacked by the many monsters of this world and even though he was on a mission of his own he wasn't going to stand aside this time either.

He rounded the corner of a ruin as thunder rumbled overhead and the rain seemed to double. As he squinted through the curtains of falling water, a gleam of blue light caught his eye and he finally made out a slim, hooded figure ducking between two standing chunks of wall, dodging the spear held by a large monster. The other hylian dodged back into view and slammed a spiked club into the back of the monster's knees, sending it sprawling.

But even as they finished it off, Sky could see another one approaching: huge and dark in the rain. He wasn't sure the other hylian had seen it.

"Behind to your left!" he shouted, drawing the master sword.

The hylian looked up just as the huge monster leaped over the edge of the small drop and they just managed to dodge before it landed on them. But they weren't quite clear; one huge foot caught them and knocked them down. It was a hinox, Sky realised, seeing it closer.

With a curse, he dashed forward.

"No!" cried the hylian, their voice clearly that of an alarmed teenage boy. "Put the sword away!"

Then the monster stamped its foot on his leg and he screamed.

Sky hissed through his teeth, then a jolt of electricity crackled over his arm. He looked at the master sword with a gasp and saw sparks running up and down the blade. Then he looked up at the stormclouds overhead and realized what was happening and what the hylian had been warning him about.

Well, there was something he could do with this.

With a wince, before he could change his mind, he raised the sword overhead.

"What are you -"

He opened his eyes and saw the hinox starting to lumber towards him. The hylian was trying to sit up. Even through the heavy rain, Sky could see his eyes wide with horror and fear.

"Don't be scared!" he shouted. "I've done this before!"

It was just like a skyward strike, he told himself. And he'd have to be struck several times for it to hurt him as badly as it had that first time.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to tremble.

One strike wouldn't kill him.

And then it came.

A feeling like an explosion, searing down his arm to his feet. For a moment, everything was still.

As if from a distance, he felt his heart stutter.

Then it all rushed back. He gasped in what felt like his first breath in an hour and looked up. Pain was jittering down his whole right side, catching his breath in his throat, but - more importantly - trapped lightning raced up and down the master sword's blade.

The hinox had only taken a couple of steps. Sky looked at it for just long enough to take aim, then swung the sword down with a shout.

Lightning seared into the hinox and it roared, staggering back to almost land on the hylian. He just rolled clear, then snatched one of the weapons the hinox wore on a necklace. Sky collapsed to his knees, his free hand to his chest, his heart pounding. He gritted his teeth as his vision wavered, wanting to get up and help but barely able to struggle to his feet as the injured teen he'd been trying to rescue drove a huge sword into the hinox's throat.

Fortunately, it seemed that the hinox wasn't infected and with another unwieldy stab it dissolved into smoke and scraps.

Sky and the hylian stared at it for a moment, both panting in the slackening rain. Then the hylian scrambled away from the scattered weapons from the necklace, looking nervously at the clouds, and Sky stumbled to his side.

"Easy!" the hylian blurted, starting up to catch him only to shriek and collapse himself as his leg gave way.

"Careful," said Sky quickly. "Careful. Here…" His hand hovered towards the hylian's injured leg. "Don't move it. I'll…"

The hylian was panting as he pulled out a glowing stone device from a holster on his hip and tapped at it. In a moment's gleam of blue light, he pulled something out and thrust it at Sky.

"Here," he said. "It'll help."

Sky took it instinctively and found himself staring at a still-warm mushroom skewer.

"Zapshrooms," said the hylian nonsensically. After a moment, he added, "Go on, they're better before you get struck, but they help with the aftereffects too."

It did smell good and Sky decided to humor him. He took a bite and couldn't help a delighted noise as a jolt of sweet-and-sour washed across his tongue. It had been ages since his last meal with actual flavor and he devoured the whole thing in a few bites.

To his surprise, the awkward feeling in his chest and the pain up and down his side eased.

The hylian grinned at him. "That was quite a trick," he said. "With the sword, I mean. How did you do it? You said you'd done it before?"

Sky hadn't even discussed that with his brothers and he certainly wasn't going to tell the story to a stranger. He shook his head slightly. "Never mind that," he said lamely. "And… I'd rather you didn't tell the story, if you don't mind." He turned away quickly. "Now, your leg."

The hylian grimaced. "I'm out of elixirs," he said, pulling another skewer out of the glowing device and taking a bite. "This'll help" - he waved the skewer - "but it'll take a bit."

"Well, I'm not leaving you here in the rain." The storm had moved on and it was no longer raining so hard, but leaving this boy alone and injured out in the open obviously wasn't an option. Sky got up, still a little uneasy on his feet but feeling much better. There were a few broken crates in a corner of the ruins and he grabbed one of the planks and brought it back over along with the rope the hinox had used for its weapon necklace. "This will do as a splint."

The hylian looked uneasily at him, but after a moment he extended his leg and braced himself as Sky started to tie the makeshift splint into place. The leg wasn't entirely broken, but whatever injury was there would benefit from support until they could get him some healing.

"What's your name?" he asked as he worked, moving slowly to try to stop his hands trembling.

"Link."

Sky startled. Link went tense.

"Sorry," said Sky, glancing up. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that my name's Link too."

Link let out a quick, disbelieving laugh. "Seriously?"

Sky grinned. "Seriously. But I go by Sky."

Link wasn't laughing any more, his hand hovering by his device. "So… how do you feel about bananas?"

The question came out of nowhere and Sky couldn't help staring at him. "Bananas?" he echoed. "What… I don't… What do bananas have to do with anything?"

Somehow, that was apparently the right thing to say. Link relaxed, letting his head fall back with a sigh. "Nothing, apparently," he said.

Sky finished tying off the splint. "So," he said carefully, sitting back on his heels and picking up the master sword to sheath it. "Is there a town -"

"Where did you get that?" Link blurted.

Sky smiled, holding out the sword. "It… was a gift," he said.

Link tentatively laid a hand on the hilt and a moment's gleam ran down the blade.

"I… don't understand," he said.

Sky nodded. "It's a long story," he said. "I'm travelling with a group; all of us are named Link and all of us can wield the master sword. We're heroes, the same as you."

Link was still staring at the sword.

"I was on the way to find somewhere to buy potions because a couple of us are wounded, but I'd like you to come and meet the others if you're willing - I think you've already met one."

At that, Link looked up. "Red tunic? Blue cap? Strand of pink in his hair?"

Sky nodded. "We call him Legend. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you alive; he'll never admit it, but he's been worried ever since you disappeared in front of him."

Link stared at him for a moment, then burst into sudden peals of laughter. "I… I thought…" He dragged his fingers through dripping hair, pushing back his hood. Sky just managed not to recoil as he saw the deep burn scars splashed across his cheek. "Never mind. Sure, I'll come. And given a cooking pot, I'll help you out with some elixirs too."

Sky wasn't sure how he was planning to do that, but given his clearly-magical food he was willing to trust that he wasn't exaggerating and offered him a hand.

"Come on, then," he said. "Lean on me."

And as they limped back the way he'd come, the sun finally came out.