#All the lights going dark and my hope's destroyed.

[lady-griffin]

Possible Idea for the Firelights in S2

Which I’ve fallen way too much in love with, btw

After the Firelight Base is attacked, where do they go?

Do they just go back to their broken, destroyed home? Try to fix it up? Can they even go back?

Do they disperse?

Or do they go to a location most people (especially those from topside) would have difficulty navigating if they didn’t know exactly where to go?

Like an abandoned mine of sorts? One with really large, giant machines suspended in the air that could be used as little community hubs, perfectly accessible for those with hoverboards?

It’s just something to consider.

Seriously, I can’t express how much I love the idea of Jinx’s lair becoming the new base for the Firelights. I love it way too much; I’m going to be crushed when it doesn't happen (which to be fair is totally on me).

The old mines would be perfect for the Firelights, especially in helping them recover and giving them a sense of extra protection and security after what they’ve gone through.

Maybe it’s not permanent, but it doesn't have to be, it allows them to stay together, so it’s home for the moment

Destroying their base, likely making them scared to return, is an ingenious way to physically separate a group of people who are loyal to one another and fight well together, but this way they wouldn’t have to disperse.

It seems like the mines are well-hidden and isolated, with a lot of natural defenses – it’s been abandoned for a long time, there’s probably a complicated tunnel system to the cavern, and it has multiple physical locations (the drill/fans we’ve seen) that others (their enemies) can’t easily get to.

There are probably a few like Jinx’s lab, where they connect to the tunnels that lead outside, but the few we’ve seen in the background, seem pretty inaccessible – unless you’re a group of people who can fly.

There’s also the idea of Piltover and Noxus winning the day and those who’ve been pushed to live underground having to retreat further down to be safe.

But it’s not a defeat, it’s just a retreat. They’re still here.

I also really love the idea of how this place once represented darkness and the abyss, basically daring you to look down, especially when compared to Ekko's original base for the Firelights, representing light and hope, encouraging you to look up.

It’s still the same place it was in S1, but it's changed with all these other people sharing it with Jinx.

Not because she was forced to, but because she chose to open her space to others, one that was solely hers and we only saw her and Silco there.

But now it's filled with others, who've impacted and changed it with their own touches of color and graffiti and when we look, we see there are all these little pockets of light and color in the dark abyss.

There's still darkness, but it's no longer all consuming.

And I don't know, the idea just warms my heart so much, and I really, really want to see it.

Also, I can’t fully tell, but when Ekko is pulling the chain in the trailer, the area is dark and it could be a cave. So, maybe? Again, it’s hard to tell.

Seriously though, I love this idea so goddamn much!

[hummingbird-of-light]

No. 11 “All the lights going dark and my hope's destroyed.” (captivity)

(Continuation to Prompt 6)

~

He had waited for someone to come and help them for far too long, but apparently no one knew where their captors' hiding place was. And slowly but surely McCoy was losing all of his hope.

His eyes fell onto Chapel who was lying on the old mattress next to his. Her face was pale and there were dark rings beneath her eyes. She had really needed the sleep.

McCoy moved his hand across and gently ran it through his friend's hair. He needed to feel her close, needed to know that she was actually there.

Sometimes he wished for her to be his imagination. If she wasn't real, then at least he'd know that she wasn't in this with him; that she was safe and sound. But then again, he was glad that he wasn't alone in this hell. It was good to have someone at his side to keep his spirits up.

McCoy let out a heavy sigh. What was taking Jim and the others so long? Why couldn't they find the two of them? Why didn't they come and save them?

The sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway made the doctor's heart skip a beat and he quickly sat up.

Who was there? Was it one of their kidnappers who wanted to check on the progress they were making? Or was it maybe - just maybe - the help they had been waiting for for so long?

McCoy's eyes were fixed on the door and when it opened, his heart sank. Of course. Of course it was that bastard of a boss.

"Good evening, doctor. How are you?"

He tried his best not to spit out a spiteful comment when he heard his captor’s playful voice. The man grinned down at him.

"Oh, I'm fine. Everything's just perfect."

He couldn't keep the sarcastic tone from his voice and his counterpart chuckled while he knelt down in front of McCoy.

"Good, good. And..."

The man's eyes fell onto the sleeping nurse and he smirked.

"How's the pretty Miss Chapel?"

Their captor reached out one hand to touch Chapel, but McCoy reacted instantly, grabbing his wrist tightly.

"Don't touch her!"

The doctor's glare said more than a thousand words and slowly his counterpart retracted his hand.

"Of course, doctor. As you wish."

McCoy let go of the man's wrist, but his eyes stayed fixed on him. He would watch every movement.

"You see, I only came by to tell you about the deadline."

The doctor felt his chest tightening at the words and his pulse started to race. He should have known it. He should have known that it would come to this sooner or later. So he tried to keep a steady face.

"Deadline?"

The boss got to his feet and walked over to McCoy and Chapel’s working place they had set up. He eyed everything.

"Me and my team, we have a plan to follow. And for that plan to work, we need that virus. So... I want it finished by tomorrow evening."

McCoy's eyes widened and he stumbled to his feet.

"What the- I'm a doctor not a magician! What you want is impossible!"

He didn't manage to keep his voice quiet, yet for some reason Chapel didn't wake up. A strange feeling filled the pit of the doctor's stomach. And it only worsened when he heard his captor's next statement.

"Is it? Well, too bad. Then I guess your friend won't wake up again."

For a moment, McCoy stopped breathing and his eyes rested on Chapel. He shook his head in disbelief.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his counterpart holding up a small flask.

"Poison. She only has 24 hours left. And she only gets the antidote when you finish your job."

The food! They must have poisoned her ration!

McCoy could feel his hands clench to fists and he gritted his teeth in anger.

“You bastard!”

Everything they had done to him. All the torture they had put him through. All the bruises they had inflicted on his body. It was nothing against the psychological pain they were causing him by hurting his friend.

“Tick tock, your time is running, doctor. You better continue your work right away.”

With a malicious smile on his face, their captor left the room, leaving behind a scared and hopeless McCoy.

He needed to work faster. Or else everything was lost.

[one-piece-aus]

Hi There!! Can I request Whumptober No.11 for Yandere Kaku? -Bubble Anon

Of course! Kaku is one of my favourites to write for, I do hope you enjoy the story ^-^

Whumptober Day 11

Yandere Kaku x Reader

"No, you disappeared years ago." You could hardly believe the reality before you as your hand pointed at the man who stole your heart and vanished without any trace. "What are you doing here?"

"That's a silly question, [Y/n]," Kaku chuckled as he casually approached you, wearing the charming smile that made you fall for him. "I came to see you, [Y/n]."

"I moved on," you said, taking a step back. "I'm seeing someone else."

"Is that so?" His smile remained plastered to his face but ceased moving closer to you. "And you started seeing him because I disappeared? Is that it?"

"Y-yeah..."

"I guess he'll have to start seeing someone else then," Kaku stated like it was the simplest conclusion in the world.

"What- no- I'm-" You were stumbling over your words when Kaku lowered his face to meet yours.

"Because I'm going to be taking you to live with me." His smile grew to the corner of his eyes, and while you used to always gaze lovingly into his eyes, this is the first time you noticed how dark they truly are. No shine, no light, only a soulless void staring back at you. "Isn't that wonderful, [Y/n]? You'll be able to see me every day again! Aren't you happy, [Y/n]?"

"No..." You shook your head, fear and horror slithering up your skin. "You- you can't do that."

"Oh but I can," Kaku laughed, picking you up and swinging you in the air just like he did whenever you visited him on his lunch breaks at Galley-La, even mirroring the same joyful smile he wore. "I got permission from the Celestial Dragons that you could be housed with me in our new residence."

"Did...did you say... did you say the Celestial Dragons..." Your shock made the news difficult to process, you didn't even realize Kaku set you on the ground.

"Yes, my bosses approved of you living with me in the holy land while I work for them, they even said we could be married the moment we arrive," Kaku told you, petting your hair and hugging your body to his. "We can't disappoint the Celestials, now can we?"

You were frozen in his grasp, a bunny being caressed by a fox. Once the Celestials approve of something, not doing it is disrespectful and could even be seen as an act of treason, but would they really be so generous to Kaku? They usually don't care what the common folk do, they only think of themselves, but Kaku is working for them... and if they really did give permission...

You were no different than an animal trapped at the mercy of her hunter.

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #11

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: death wish / suicidal ideation, vampire whumpee, captivity, bear trap, broken bones, burns

@whumptober Day 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.” / Animal trap / Captivity / “No one will find you.”

-

The muscle in Kane’s leg spasmed as if crying out, crushed between shattered bone and hard metal. He whined in pain and tried to curl in on on himself, but any movement just made it worse.

With a sharp gasp, he abandoned the effort, lying limp on the floor of his cell, the bear trap snapped snugly around his leg. The silver, melted and slathered haphazardly over the trap’s jaws, pressed into his skin with enormous force as it desperately tried to close together, frustrated with Kane’s leg in the way.

It was always so much worse when it pressed in, and now it did it from both sides. A touch against silver was bad enough, but the way it pinched his skin between the jaws to sear into it, a white-hot flame that would never die, was unbearable. The pressure was greater than when hunters would push or pull him into the cell’s bars, and unlike a human, the trap was uninclined to ever let go.

But the hunters had left him like this, and he had no hope of removing himself from the trap until they returned. Kane whined again, louder this time, and pressed his face into the cool concrete floor, as if it could somehow cancel out the hellish burning.

“Help,” he gasped. A habit he’d been making less and less use of. He’d well lost track of how long it had been by this point, but it was obvious no one was coming to save him– and even more obvious that he was helpless to save himself.

There was only one way out, and that was death. And even that had been cruelly dangled out of his reach.

As long as his captivity felt, Kane knew that in reality, it was laughably short. Surely only a few years. He was young enough for a vampire, only barely past one-hundred. While a human his age would be on death’s door if they hadn’t already met it, and a human equivalent to him in physicality– thirty or so– would only live for sixty-odd more, he had more than a thousand years stretching beyond him, if he couldn’t earn a staking before then.

Even that hope was diminished, knowing the hunters had too much fun making him their plaything to let him meet death so easily. Perhaps in a century, when all his current tormenters would be dead and cycled out for new ones, the next generation of humans would have a change of heart.

It was little comfort to him now, the peace of death a distant dream. A shard of bone shifted in his leg and the trap cinched tighter, wringing a wail from his hoarse throat.

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2023 | No. 11

“All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Titans s01e07: “Robin was the answer. Robin was going to fix everything. But you ruined it!”

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[lithium223]

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 11: "All the light's going dark and my hope's destroyed" + Animal Trap

Read on Ao3

- Legend & Hyrule

- Summary: When the sudden appearance of a portal sends Legend and Hyrule hurtling to an unknown destination, Legend attempts to save them both. But it all goes terribly wrong

CW for a character nearly drowning (it's not too descriptive, but just be careful), dehumanization, and drugging

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He’s falling.

Legend only half-registers it. His stomach is in a knot, his body weightless, yet strangely heavy. His heart is in his throat. Wind rushes past his ears. But it’s not the plummet he fears. It’s the darkness he is headed towards.

He’s falling, Rulie is falling, and he hasn’t a clue where they'll land.

Dark magic warps around him, funneling him down, down, down. He reaches toward it with his own magic, trying to guide it, to nudge it in a safe direction.

Water. They need to land in water. Otherwise this will end very badly.

He solidifies an image in his head. A lake — big and beautiful and clear, waterfalls rushing down into it. There. That’s where he wants them to land. 

A hand grapples in the darkness. Fingers wrap around his own, familiar magic pouring through them to enhance his own. A slight smile lifts Legend’s lips.

Hyrule.

The image grows more clear and distinct. The smell of fresh water and dewy grass fills his nostrils. Legend steels himself and takes a deep breath. Any moment now…

Heart pounding in his throat, he tightens his hold on Hyrule’s hand. 

“Don’t let go,” he orders through the waves of their entwined magic. And Hyrule’s grip strengthens in reply.

Another moment slides by, a moment filled with utter darkness and the nauseating push and pull of gravity. Legend holds his breath, awaiting impact. 

It comes in a rush of magic and liquid, cold and heat, light and darkness. Legend catches a glimpse of blue sky and white clouds. Then his body breaks the surface with such force it knocks the air from his lungs.

Water floods the space it leaves and he chokes on it. Black dots dance before his eyes. Desperately, he fights to hang on — to consciousness, to the hand that now lies limp in his.

Come on. He grits his teeth, kicking his feet to try and surface. Change already!

As if in response, a sharp pain streaks through him. His two legs become a single, powerful tail; his fingernails grow into talons; iridescent scales climb up and down his body. And in the next moment he can breathe.

Legend wastes no time. Ensuring Hyrule’s hand is firmly in his own, he begins to climb toward the surface. The sun shines through it, beckoning him forth. 

Hope blossoms within him as he grows closer. He’s almost there. 

The net comes out of nowhere. He sees it briefly out of the corner of his eye – a dark, looming thing. But his mind doesn’t have time to process, nor his body to evade. And in the next moment, it surrounds him. 

Coarse ropes tangle in his fins, wrap around his tail. Panic coursing through him, Legend thrashes. With his free hand he claws at the net, attempting to shred it. He has to break free, he has to get Hyrule to the surface. 

But his efforts are fruitless. The ropes are too strong, too thick.

“I caught something!” A voice comes from up above. Any other time it would be muffled by the water that surrounds him. But now, in this form, Legend can hear it clearly, as if the man is standing right beside him. “It’s big! And it’s a fighter.”

“Hurry! It could be what we have been looking for!”

The net begins to move, dragging the heroes upward. And after a moment more of struggling, Legend lets it. It goes against every instinct he has, to allow their captors to haul them up onto the boat. But fighting back takes time, time Hyrule doesn’t have.

He pulls the traveler to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around him. And in the next seconds they break through the surface and are pulled onto the floor of a small boat. 

Legend can make out blurred faces, leering and unfamiliar; a blue sky painted behind a layer of trees; water drifting as far as he can see. But he doesn’t allow himself to survey his surroundings beyond that. Almost immediately, his attention is back on the hero who lies limp in his arms.

“Rulie,” he gasps, through burning lungs. This form never fares well on the surface. But it will only be a short while before he reverts to his Hylian body. He can hold on until then.

Dragging in another wheezing attempt at a breath, he presses a hand to the traveler’s face. His skin is cool and pale, eyes still closed, chest still. Dread settles unpleasantly in Legend’s gut.

Maybe landing them in the water was not such a wonderful idea, after all. Maybe he should have let whatever was going to happen, happen. Maybe he should have focused his attention on crafting a shield around them instead.

He shakes his head, shoving the thoughts away. Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know how to weave the powerful healing spells that Hyrule does, but he is familiar with a few simpler ones. Spells that can take care of cuts and bruises, gashes that don’t travel too deep, even wounds that render you unconscious. And perhaps, they will be enough to drag the water from Hyrule’s lungs.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A voice croons from above him. 

Distantly, he registers the net lifting off and away, dragging at his tail as it does so. He does his best to ignore it. 

“A sea creature?”

“It’s called a mermaid.”

“Well, I’ve seen one of those before.”

“Isn’t this what you were looking for?”

“Indeed.”

Someone is leaning over him now. Legend can feel their hot breaths on his neck. 

“Look at him. What a magical being.”

A hand brushes over the length of his tail and Legend inhales sharply. The breath soon turns into a hacking cough as his body reminds him how little air he is gaining at the moment. 

Ignore it, he tells himself, even as every part of him screams to leap back into the water, where he can breathe, where the clammy hands of strangers won’t touch him. Focus on Rulie. 

“I wish to study him. Take him…and throw his friend back into the water.”

The words have barely registered in Legend’s mind before rough hands wrap around his waist and pull. His fingers slip from Hyrule and the spell dies upon them. 

“No!”

He thrashes, striking out with his claws, kicking as his tail splits and becomes legs. Someone cries out and another voice joins them. But they are a mere cacophony of unintelligible noise to Legend’s ears. All he can see is Hyrule being dragged toward the edge, all he can hear is the deafening silence left by the absence of his brother’s breaths.

This is all your fault. 

A fist connects with his jaw and he reels back, tasting the sharpness of iron. But seconds later he is struggling again, desperation allowing him to push through the pain, the fear, the way the world feels like it's closing in on him all over again, like the day his uncle died, the day the entire kingdom had turned its back on him without reason…

An arm comes into reach and he bites down, hard. That earns him a slap across the face.

“Stop fighting, damn it!”

He kicks outward, feet connecting with someone’s body. They hurl him down onto the unforgiving wood of the boat, so hard that he sees stars. For a moment it is all he can do to breathe.

“Little brat!”

“Is he even worth the trouble? Look at him! He changed back!”

“Calm yourselves. You are damaging the specimen.”

Legend drags his head upward just as a man squats down in front of him. With his graying hair and wizened face carved with smile lines, one could think him kind, even grandfatherly. But when he grips Legend’s chin and holds his gaze, there is no sympathy in those eyes. There is only cold, terrible, hunger.

Legend shoves himself up on his hands and knees, wrenching himself out of the man’s grip. He steels himself, hand already going toward the hilt of his sword. He will fight to the death if need be. They will not touch Hyrule.

But the man’s voice halts his movements.

“Remain still or your friend will go over the side.”

Legend glares at him. He can see no lie in that face. His hand falls back down to lie limply at his side.

“What do you want?” he grits out.

The man regards him calmly. “I have been interested in strange creatures for many years now. I have studied them quite extensively. One might even call me an expert. However, I have yet to examine a mer. So, you, my boy, are quite a fortunate find.”

He rises, still looking at Legend as though he wants to pin him to a board and stare at him for a while. Legend fights not to squirm beneath his gaze.

“You are fascinating. Not quite a mer and yet…not quite Hylian either. Oh, the discoveries that could be made from you.”

The man moves closer. Before he can stop himself, Legend backs up a step, bumping against the two men he hadn’t realized were standing behind him. He can’t breathe now. It’s as though he is dragging in surface air through his gills again, fighting to remain conscious. 

Focus. You don’t have time to panic.

“I would take you by force,” the man continues, calmly, as though carrying a conversation with a neighbor, “as my men have so clumsily attempted to do. But that would damage you beyond repair. And in order for my experiments to work, you must be in optimal condition. I must control for most variables. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, I understand alright. You creep.”

Legend’s eyes flit around, taking in his surroundings, looking for a viable way out. His fingers flex and clench, itching for a weapon. But Hyrule is so close to the edge now. Too close. One wrong move and he will fall back into a watery grave. 

And the water…the water is the only chance of escape he has. But the cost would be great, too great for him to entertain.

He inhales a trembling breath and makes his decision.

“If you want me so badly, I’ll come with you. On one condition.” He looks back at Hyrule, ignoring the way his heart clenches at the sight of him.

You idiot. Letting yourself become attached again. Don’t you ever learn?

“Let me save him. Then, take him back to shore and leave him there.”

The man doesn’t answer at first. He looks between the two heroes, fist at his chin. Then, he nods.

“Very well.” He turns to his men. “Take us back to shore as quickly as possible. And bind and blindfold the boy.”

Legend watches, anger boiling within him, as they tie thick ropes around Hyrule’s wrists and a cloth around his head. No sooner have they stepped back than he rushes forward, skidding on his knees before him. The spell is already at his fingertips and in his mind, woven threads of his magic. And he reaches out, pressing a hand to Rulie’s arm as it pours forth.

“Watch him,” he hears someone say from far away. “He might try to pull something.”

“He won’t,” the man with hungry eyes answers. “He cares too much for his friend.”

Legend shakes his head, brushing off the oppressive truth of the statement.

“Come on, Rule,” he murmurs, “come on. Wake up.”

A moment passes and another and another, slipping by in slow succession. All the while the boat speeds toward the shore. If he looked up, Legend doesn’t doubt that he would see the bank fast approaching. But he doesn’t dare. He hardly allows himself to breathe.

Tears stream down his face and blur his vision. He doesn’t brush them away.

“Come on, traveler. You’re tougher than this. Don’t you dare die on me!”

Another series of seconds pass in which Hyrule doesn’t move. And then, abruptly, he draws in a gasping breath. He pitches sideways coughing up mouthfuls of water. Relief streaks dizzyingly through Legend as he reaches out, gripping his shoulder to support him.

“You’re okay, Rulie,” he says, both to himself and the hero trembling in his grasp. “You’re okay.”

Thank the goddesses.

The coughs subside and turn to haggard breaths. Hyrule raises his head, dazedly attempting to look around. 

“Ledge?” He croaks. He tries to move his hands up to his face, but the ropes prevent the motion. “Legend…what happened? Why can’t I…where are we?”

Legend is about to answer when the boat comes to a stop, bumping against a grassy shoreline. His heart climbs into his throat. 

“It’s okay,” he manages. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Hyrule turns toward the sound of his voice and Legend is glad that he cannot see the look in his eyes.

“But what about you?”

Strong hands grasp his arms and wrench him away from the traveler. He stumbles to his feet.

Men close in around Hyrule too, hauling him up and starting toward the shore. He struggles, though weakly, face still much too pale.

“Legend!”

Legend manages a shaky smile, more for his own sake than his brother’s.

“I’ll be fine too. Don’t waste your time worrying about me. Get free and get out of here, you hear! Don’t you dare try and come back for me!”

Hyrule gives another shout as he hits the damp ground, immediately trying to stumble up on bound feet. But Legend can hardly hear him now past the thundering of his heart and the distant sounds of water lapping at the boat as it drifts back into the depths.

Then, something cool and metallic pierces his neck and he knows no more.

[oxideblack]

[kybercrystals94]

Unconventionally Easy

(Part 2)

Read here on Ao3!

Read Part 1 here!

By KyberCrystals94

Whumptober 2023|Day 11|Prompt 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.” | Captivity

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Bleeding Out

Rating: T

Words: 1080

Summary: Tech is worse off than he first let on to Echo.

The first thing Tech is aware of is pain. Although difficult to pinpoint, after some experimental movement, he decides that it originates from three significant places: his right thigh, the right side of his abdomen, and his right arm in its entirety. Cleverly, he deduces that he must have landed on his right side.

Next, Tech becomes aware that his helmet is missing, and that he also has a head wound, though it is not nearly as sensitive as the three other injuries. Mild concussion? Likely. However, blood loss is his greatest enemy at the moment. However, if their brothers find them in a timely manner, he should be safe from immediate demise.

He is about to work on locating Echo when the scream practically gives him cardiac arrest...not something clones are prone to, at least at this age in their development. However, so startling in the silent darkness comes the blood curdling cry, that it takes every ounce of resolve to prevent a fear induced verbal reaction.

“No! Let me out!”

Tech has never heard Echo sound so panicked, so utterly terrified. Even during night terrors. Tech calls out to him in a frustratingly unsteady voice, “Echo!”

A beat, a choking breath from just a few meters away. “Tech...” Another gasp, a sob. “Help. Don’t leave me here. Please.”

Tech tries to steady his voice. He needs to keep Echo calm. Who knows what injuries he might have, what he might aggravate if he struggles. “I am not going anywhere, vod. We are going to be okay, Echo, but we must remain calm.”

It takes a few minutes of careful conversation before Tech is confident that he has talked Echo off the ledge of a hypothetical cliff of hysteria.

“What are your injuries?” Echo asks.

Tech responds vaguely but honestly. “Several lacerations on the right side of my person, possible concussion.”

“Are you bleeding badly?”

“It is difficult to tell,” Tech lies.

He knows that Echo is far too intelligent to believe him; however, his older brother does not push the point. After all, what good would it possibly do? Not trapped as they are. All they can do is wait, and hope that they are found before it is too late.

The heat that scorches the planet is deadly, and Hunter is fully aware of this. Which is why he calls for a break again, insisting that Crosshair and Wrecker drink electrolyte mixture added to their canteens.

“We don’t have time for this,” Crosshair says, snatching the packet out of Hunter’s outstretched hand. “They could be dying down there while we just sit here.”

“We aren’t just sitting here, Cross,” Hunter argues. “We won't do them any good if we collapse from heatstroke.”

Wrecker has already downed one canteen and is reaching for another. “Do you think they’re okay?”

Hunter doesn’t answer right away. Honestly, he isn’t even sure at this point if they’re rescuing brothers or recovering bodies. It’s been almost two hours since the blast, and they are still sorting rubble in hopes they won’t cause further collapse. The trackers on Echo and Tech’s comms are pinging a signal, so they know they are digging in the right place. What they don’t know is how they are injured, what will cause further injury, or if they are already dead.

“We’ll find them,” Hunter answers with empty certainty, “and they will be.”

Echo knows something is wrong when he can smell the metallic tang of blood through the dust and ashes of destruction holding him down. He tries to keep his voice as level as possible when he asks, “Tech, how badly are you injured. Really.”

“I have lost a substantial,” Tech pauses breathlessly, “amount of blood…I’m afraid.”

Echo curses under his breath. There is literally nothing he can do except lay here while his brother bleeds to death.

“Echo…” Tech says, “I don’t feel well.”

“I know, vod.” Echo swallows. “The others will be here soon. I know they will.”

“Not in time, I think.” Tech’s voice breaks at the end.

“We’re not going to talk like that,” Echo says firmly. “You said you’d stay with me, remember? I’m going to hold you to it.”

There is a long silence that stretches between Echo’s words and the ones Tech utters in transparent anguish. “I’m sorry, Echo.”

Between dehydration and trying to keep Tech conscious through endless, meaningless words, Echo’s voice scrapes like sand in his throat. He isn’t sure when his brother stops responding except that he doesn’t stop trying, even when it feels like he has to scream to manage an aching whisper.

Something shifts above him, and that’s when he hears familiar voices filtering through the barrier between himself and freedom. “Hunter!” he calls out, but his voice rasps pathetically.

But Hunter hears him. Thank the force for enhancements.

“Echo! Keep talking, we’ll get you out.”

“No, get to Tech first,” Echo says, “He’s to my left several meters. Severe blood loss. He lost consciousness a while ago…”

“Okay,” Hunter says, “we’ll get him. Are you injured?”

“Nah,” Echo tries to say lightly, “just in a tight spot.” The joke falls flat.

“We’ll find him,” Hunter says, voice so much stronger and sure than Echo’s.

Echo takes a breath.

He’s not alone anymore.

“Thought I’d let you off the hook just because you were bleeding out?”

Tech winces awake to the bright, white light of a medical bay. He blinks as comprehension sifts through foggy awareness. “I am alive. That is most fortunate,” he says, voice hoarse from disuse.

Echo scoffs, and Tech turns his head to see the reg sitting next to him. “Yeah. How fortunate.”

“I suppose this is the part where you would like for me to admit that you were right,” Tech returns with a faint smile. “They did get to us in time.”

Echo grins at him, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was barely right…and besides, you were the one who said they’d get to us soon first, so I suppose we can both take credit for being right.”

“And we completed the mission, I assume? Supposing the data stick was not damaged in the fall.”

“Shockingly, it was one of the only things not damaged in the blast. You should design your armor like you do your pockets.”

“Another successful mission,” Tech says contentedly. He settles back, closing his eyes. “And I’ll keep that armor design in mind for future alterations.”

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @patapouille

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[whumpookies]

Day 12, All the lights going dark and my hopes destroyed.

Prompt: red (anger/tired/loosing control lashing out)

Seref sözü episode 3

[evillittlebirdie]

Salvation (Kar'niss/Tav)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

He was unsuccessful. He was a monster. He shamed his family. 

"Ilhar, Ilhar, please!" Kar'niss had lost all hope at this point. His failure sealed his fate. He failed the test of Lolth. And she punished him. He was wretched now. The childish part of him that thought his mother was even more powerful than Lolth begged for her. "Don't leave me!" Even if he wasn't in agony, his new body was far too large and cumbersome to move. He couldn't run to her. He struggled to coordinate his many legs, but he kept tripping. 

But Ilhar did leave him. She spun on her heels, her attendants one pace behind her. "Let us hope the Neideirra has a decent bard. Otherwise, this day was indeed a waste," She relayed to her patron, Kar'niss' father. 

"I agree, Mistress," Ilharn concurred, not giving his son another thought.

"Matron, would you care to keep the drider as a slave, or would you like us to dispose of him on the outskirts?" A cleric questioned.

"A drider slave? How gauche. No. Dispose of it," Ilhar responded. "Unless...K'yorl..." She turned her attention to her husband, "Do you want it?"

Kar'niss allowed his hope to rise exponentially. "Yes, yes! Please, Ilharen. I can serve the house well, I promise. Whatever you deem-" 

"Oh, that sound, that screeching," Ilharen visibly winced, "I do not want to be anywhere close to it. If you will it, Mistress, I would not take this creature." 

Kar'niss stared at his parents, watching them leave without another word. He began to shake. His legs scrambled up, and he managed to find his balance. "Ilhar! Ilharen! Please! I'll be good! I promise! Don't!" 

Kar'niss felt his body fall with a single step. With each fall, he felt his newly formed body sprain under the weight of his swollen abdomen. All pride abandoned, he sobbed into his hands. He hissed out as his claw accidentally scratched one of his dark eyes. After retracting his hands, Kar'niss attempted to stand up again. But unexpectedly, he felt something tight around his throat. One of the clerics had subdued him with a catchpole around his neck. She pulled, and Kar'niss shuffled to his feet to avoid strangulation. 

"Just kill me," Kar'niss pleaded with one of the cold-faced clerics. "I have failed Lolth. I have failed Ilhar. I have nothing to live for." He was a monster, a freak of nature, an abomination. 

"Silence, drider. You disrespect your house and Lolth by denying your punishment. May you live a long, miserable life," The cleric denounced before leading Kar'niss to a cage. "In," She commanded harshly before loosening the catchpole. Kar'niss whimpered at the sight of the pen. Cages were for slaves or animals. And yet he was worse. He used his hands to poise himself as he walked into the cage. 

Kar'niss woke from his trance, gasping for breath. His eyes blinked awake. "Her Majesty, preserve me," He moaned, his hands traveling to his hair. He began to pull at the greasy locks, whimpering. 

"Her Majesty, thank you for saving me. Days, weeks, months, years, years, years, years, years," Kar'niss squealed out, his last utterance of 'years' sounding almost like a scream. The transformation wounded him, and the isolation broke him. "Hunting, hissing, hiding, howling, hacking, hallucinating, hastening, hoarding," He chanted, climbing down from his alcove. "Haunting until I found you." He released his hold on his hair before he saw something out of place at the mouth of his cave. 

Kar'niss skittered to investigate and was confused to see a basket at the entrance of the cave. "What is this, your Majesty?" He peeked into the basket and frowned. Inside the container was a neatly folded blanket, an unlit lantern, books, and a carafe of water. Even his weapons, polished and clean, were placed in the basket. "Provisions from Her Majesty's Chosen," Kar'niss observed with a tilt of his head. "What a benevolent prophet, Your Majesty. Thank you..." 

Tav, such a simple, humble name for a Chosen. She had already graced him with mercy and care. He felt a warmth in his stomach, a flush on his cheeks. His pedipalps flexed in response. Tav had done so much and yet asked nothing of him. Kar'niss needed to show his gratitude. 

"Long ago, before you, far, far, far, far befre you, Your Majesty, when I worshipped the spider, I knew how to show appreciation. But I can't in this form. But maybe...maybe this wretch could find a way..." Kar'niss thought quickly, before he giggled, entertained by his notion. "No...No...Not that way either..." He ran his tongue over his upper lip. 

He bent over to pick up the basket and retreated into his lair. 

***

"How much blood do you think a drider needs?" 

"Tav, who taught you manners? That's not how you start a conversation. A 'hello, how are you' is how you start a conversation."

"Hello, how are you?"

"I'm well, and you?"

"Great. How much blood do you think a drider needs?"

[keebwee]

Whumptober 2023 No. 11: "All the lights are going dark and my hope's destroyed."

Animal Trap | Captivity | "No one will find you."

warnings/basic summary of the art !!!

mikey gets caught in a bear trap! its all in pencil, so theres no color, but there is blood.

[serickswrites]

Going Dark

Warnings: blood, broken bones, restraint, gun, gunfire, unclear character status, captivity

Whumpee's chest was heaving as they ran. Their legs ached and their lungs burned, but they had to keep running. They had to get away. Whumper had been careless and left the door unlocked, so today was the day.

Whumpee screamed as the worst pain they had ever felt overwhelmed them. They fell clutching at their leg that was now trapped in a bear trap. Blood flowed from around the teeth of the trap that was now thoroughly embedded in their leg. They were sure their ankle had broken. Between the pain of the wound and the pain in their bones, Whumpee was nauseous.

This couldn't be happening. This was their one chance to escape. They howled their agony into the night, not caring who heard them. They were as good as dead anyway.

"You have my attention, Whumpee." Whumper's cold voice came from the other side of the clearing.

"Please, please," Whumpee begged through their tears.

"Please, what?" Whumper's voice was only loud enough to just hear.

"Please," Whumpee sobbed, "just let me go. I won't tell anyone."

Whumper frowned. "But I'm not done with you yet."

Whumper surveyed Whumpee coldly. There was no emotion or warmth in their gaze. Their eyes held no emotion as they raised their hunting rifle. "No one will find you." And they fired.

[onceuponastory]

defiance - the winter soldier

Plot: The Winter Soldier tries to defy his handlers. Warnings: The Winter Soldier/Bucky being mind wiped, abused, tortured, drugged and having his identity stripped from him. Also has mentions of violence, pain, blood and injury/bruises. Nothing too graphic, but even so. Also Alexander Pierce and HYDRA, because they're warnings all on their own. Please use your own discretion. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is for @whumptober Day 11: "All The Lights Going Dark and My Hope's Destroyed." I also combined it with the bonus prompt captivity. Someone PLEASE give Bucky a break.

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

It’s cold. That’s the first thing he thinks, even as they force him back in the chair, the metal chain clamping around his ankles… it's too cold in here, much colder than it usually is. Goosebumps run up his arm, the hairs sticking up. The Winter Soldier watches, slightly intrigued by the sensation. His body feels so new, so different. He practically discovers new things about it every day. Despite having his metal arm for as long as he can remember, he still struggles to get used to it.

Sometimes though, he sees a flash of a memory through his mind. One of a happy and much younger version of himself. But when he tries to recall the rest, there’s only empty space, static where there should be words, voices, people. He glances around the room, watching as the agents continue on with their routine. The man with the clipboard is back, chatting with another agent. The Winter Soldier doesn’t know their names. He doesn't know his own name, or if he even had a name. He’s just The Winter Soldier. Despite being HYDRA’s best weapon, and their pride and joy… he’s still not important enough to know anyone’s name.

“Why is that? How is that fair?” He thinks, the sudden words making his brow furrow. He’s not supposed to challenge them, or dare question their work. The same work that saved him from certain death at the hands of the enemy and made him into HYDRA's prized weapon. He’s stronger and quicker than ever, an extremely skilled marksman who also excels at hand to hand combat. And all because HYDRA saved him and took him under their wing.

Or at least, that’s what they told him happened.

“Bucky! No!” a voice shouts in his mind, so loud it's as if the person is right there with him, and he flinches.

“Who is Bucky? Why is that name so-”

But as he tries to pinpoint who the voice belongs to, or when those words were said... all he finds is empty space.

Suddenly, the man with the clipboard is standing right beside him, his unexpected arrival making him jump. He adjusts his glasses, checking the Winter Soldier’s vitals before the procedure. The same procedure he’s gone through countless other times before. The burn marks on his temples throb in anticipation, a harsh reminder of what’s coming. And he braces himself, ready for the pain.

He fucking hates this procedure.

“So why do you let them do it to you?” The question throws him, and he frowns, brows drawn together in confusion. He’s right. Why does he sit back and let them treat him like this? They keep telling him how grateful to him they are, and how useful his work is to them… but that doesn’t excuse the pain they unleash on him. Surely there's another, better way to do this.

So, when the man with the clipboard comes back for his final check, the Winter Soldier speaks. “No.” His voice is so quiet the man doesn’t hear him, and he frowns.

“Excuse me?”

“No.” He repeats, this time more forcefully. “I don’t want the procedure.”

In response, the man gasps, his face paling. He rifles through his notes, unsure of how to react. After all, their prized soldier has never defied an order before. They trained him to be compliant. To do what they say and not fight back. It’s what he does every time.

But this time, he doesn’t want to. It feels wrong. He doesn’t want to just grit his teeth and survive like he’s used to doing. To wake up each day to new bruises and wounds on his body, ones he can’t remember getting, and just accept them as part of the job, because HYDRA said so. He wants to live and find things out for himself. On his own terms.

So when the man leans in again with a syringe, the Winter Soldier grabs his arm, wrenching it away from him. The man cries out in pain, and others rush up to them, trying to hold the Winter Soldier down. Yet, he keeps fighting, pushing against the men with all his might, showing the full range of strength HYDRA gave to him. After all, they trained him to use it on his enemies, and anyone who would hurt him.

They just never expected him to use it against them.

The fight continues, a bloody blur of fists and pain. And for a while, it seems like the Winter Soldier has the upper hand. Until a door opens and an all too familiar voice speaks. One that strikes fear into the Winter Soldier’s heart.

“What is going on here?” The question stuns the Winter Soldier for a moment, and the agents take the opportunity to grab him, pulling him back into the chair and locking the restraints around his arms. He lashes out, trying to wrench his arm free, but he’s pinned down too tightly.

Must get out.

Must fight back.

He pulls with all his might, straining and pushing his metal arm to the limit. The second he gets out of here, they’re going to pay. A grinding noise fills the air, the sound of metal against metal. Nothing budges. but he keeps going, refusing to let them win. Another agent approaches. "No." He repeats, hissing and growling at them like some sort of caged animal. He contorts his body, twisting and turning as he tries with all his might to get away from them. Unfortunately though, he's tied down too tightly, limiting his movements. Something stabs him in his human arm, and he turns just in time to see a syringe being pulled out. A man steps forward.

“Mister Pierce, sir….” An agent tries to explain, but Pierce shakes his head, a disapproving look on his face.

“Shut up. This shouldn’t have happened again.” He hisses, his voice just loud enough for the soldier to pick up.

“Again? But I’ve never disobeyed orders before… What does he mean, ‘again’? Have I done this before? Why don’t I remember it? What happened to me?”

Pierce steps forward, keeping a steely gaze fixed on the soldier. “What happened?” He asks, bending down so he’s eye level with him now. Yet it still feels like he’s talking to him like he’s a child.

“I didn’t want the procedure.” He murmurs. He hates how quiet and guilty his voice sounds then, like he’s already ashamed for what he’s done. When he should be burning this place to the ground for all they’ve done to him.

“I’m sorry?” Pierce frowns. “You… didn’t want the procedure?” He repeats. “But that procedure helps you do all our great work. It helped you shape the century!” He chuckles, as if he can’t believe why he would ever turn down the chance to make a difference in the world. Those words used to make him feel incredibly guilty, make him stop fighting and do what they asked. But now, they’re not enough.

“It hurts. I don’t want it to hurt.” Pierce rolls his eyes, making the Winter Soldier even angrier. How dare he mock his pain? He grunts under his restraints, trying to wrench his metal arm free. But he can start to feel the effects of whatever they injected him with now... his mind is hazy, and his vision is starting to blur a little. It must be some kind of sedative. He groans, his body feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds.

And he stops fighting.

“Good try by the way, but our restraints are strong enough to withstand you.” Pierce grins.

"Bucky!" The voice speaks again. He still can't register who it is, or who this Bucky even is. His wary gaze is fixed on Pierce, who just keeps staring at him with those beady little eyes. Honestly, he just wants to rip them out of his skull. And then, the horrible realisation that he’s going to be stuck here forever slowly sinks in, seeping through his entire body.

“Please….” He speaks, his voice strained. Tears spring at his eyes, despite his furious attempts to prevent them from seeing his pain. Because then they’ll know they’ve won. “I just don’t want it to hurt anymore.” He murmurs. Pierce steps forward, and for a moment the soldier thinks he might have a chance here. Maybe his attempts have broken through his hard exterior?

The slap that hits him soon erases all thought of that. His cheek burns and stings with the pain, and for a moment a dull buzzing fills his ears. He blinks, gasping. They’ve struck him before. He knows this. But it’s never been with such force, such ferocity… or been left so stunned afterwards.

“Don’t ever disobey me again.” Pierce warns, his voice low and threatening. “Wipe him and start over.” He huffs, walking out of the room. Something burns deep inside the Winter Soldier’s gut, willing him to keep going, to fight back, and tell them that if they ever touch him again, he’s going to make them pay.

But the ferocity of his slap stuns him into silence, and the sedative flowing through his system is preventing him for doing much else. And before he can even react, he’s being strapped in even tighter, and the familiar hum of the machine sounds, reverberating throughout his body. And he’s trapped once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[meraki24601]

Dawn

Whumptober day 11! I made it farther than I expected lol. I ended up using both the song lyrics and the object: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.” and animal trap.

-----------*-***-*-----------

Whumpee’s fangs cut their lower lip as they snarled and bit at the hunter approaching through the trees. The bear trap clamped down on their ankle clenched tighter as they lunged, a warning not to come any closer. White hot pain shot from the cold iron trap around their ankle and up their spine, twisting their powerful growl into a howl of agony.

“I set that trap out in hopes of catching one of the giant wild boar destroying my garden.” The hunter rolled their shoulders, their gun shining in the moonlight. “I never would have dreamed it was a disgusting vampire stealing my crops. What were you doing with them? Your kind doesn’t eat vegetables.”

This hunter seemed to be a reasonable one, if angry at Whumpee’s presence. They stopped to talk calmly instead of wasting bullets likely not made for killing their kind. Taking an unnecessary breath to block out the pain, Whumpee lowered their head, “My sincere apologies. My actions were uncouth, tainted with ignorance and fear. I am not the one stealing your crops. My purpose here is only to pass through. I did not know this land had been claimed. If you will release me, I will gladly help you hunt the boar you seek as payment for further safe passage.”

“You must think I am a fool.” The hunter’s voice was colder than the steel chaining Whumpee to the earth. “I know what you are. I know what your kind do. Should I release you from the trap, you would kill me, my family, and the entire surrounding village.”

“I swear, I would not. I swear to you, if you release me, I will not drink a single drop of blood until I have passed on from here. One hundred leagues to the east, if I must. You have my word. Should you not know, a vampire’s word-” 

“Is meaningless. I know how your promises bind your kind. It means nothing. You promise to spare that which is mine with the same mouth you swear to kill that which is another’s. The blood you spill will not be on my hands.” With the finality of a king condemning a criminal, the hunter turned and began to walk away.

“Please! Listen for just one moment more. I am not a murderer as you think I am. Surely, you have heard rumors of the vampires of the East? Those who drink the blood of animals instead of man? That is where I am heading. To join my brothers and sisters there. We wish to end the death and fighting so this Earth can thrive.”

The hunter was silent for a moment, frozen on the edge of the clearing. “Vampire, what is your name? How long have you existed in this world as a vampire?”

“Whumpee, my friend. I am nearing eight hundred years.”

“Tales of the vampires who feast on animals have only begun within the past fifty years. It is not only the potential of future lives lost that condemns you, but the mourning of those who have already passed.” The hunter resumed their walk into the trees, disappearing until all that was left was the solemn sound of their voice echoing in the clearing, “I leave you with this: if there is an afterlife for your kind, may you rest in peace.”

Nature’s version of silence has always been loud. Bugs, and birds, and beasts of the night called to the sky, reminding the world they were still alive. With the hunter’s lantern gone and Whumpee’s torch extinguished on the ground, the only light in the clearing came from the Moon, stars, and the ten fireflies dancing close by. 

Whumpee knew others were traveling East that night. Some whose path may bring them near enough to hear Whumpee’s call. Accepting one last hope, Whumpee settled against the tree, counting the small flashing bugs to pass the time.

Twenty minutes passed. One of the lights stopped appearing.

An hour. Two more lights were smothered by the night. Whumpee’s leg was numb. At least they didn’t have to worry about bleeding out before help could arrive.

When merely four flashing lights remained in the clearing, Whumpee began to cry. 

Three lights left. Whumpee’s voice broke as they screamed, “Help me, please! Is there anyone out there?”

Two tiny lights. The clearing was silent. Even the animals had gone to bed.

One light left.

Dawn.

Part 2