#Because that's spoiler for Whumptober

[huh-1260]

Another Chimera Hyrule doodle after a long while, a friend of mine has dubbed him, Chirule. Guess which member of the chain died-

Im kidding, you don't have to guess. It's Wild, because he has Mipha's grace. The blood probably should have been more prominent.

[desired-misery]

So about that whumptober...

Lots of words written, not that many prompts covered. Am I doomed? Probably lol

[kitkatyes]

Summary:

They were going to die this time; the oppressive heat of the volcano burned them more by the second.

[soupandsorcery]

Whumptober Day 4: "Are you in there?"

It's quiet in their camp, a rare peaceful night. The air is still thick with the ever present oppressive gloom of the shadow curse, and even the flickering light of their fire can't do much to dispel it. No one wants to venture too far outside the warm glow of orange and gold, even with the blessings of a pixie and Selune both keeping away the worst of the curse.

Etienne is the sole exception this night. Instead of gathering with his friends around the fire, he sits apart, perched on a rock, overlooking the worst of the ravaged land beneath him. Dimly, he's aware of Karlach's booming laugh, Gale's gentle cadence, Lae'zel scolding Scratch for making off with the last of her dinner. Usually, the bustle that comes with being a part of something--being a part of this--is enough to chase away the confusing ache of emptiness inside Etienne, but tonight is different.

Tonight it's not even close to enough.

Maybe it's the shadow curse, getting its hooks in him, making the dread that sits like a knot beneath his breastbone even more apparent than it usually is. Or maybe it's everything else. Everything finally catching up to him.

He feels cold, but he doesn't move to go back to the fire. Instead, he runs his fingers along the polished wood of his violin, tracing now familiar whorls in the grain. On instinct, he plucks out a melody, and even though the pizzicato gives it a jaunty sound, there's no denying the tune is decidedly sad.

"Well, isn't this positively maudlin?"

Etienne turns, watching Astarion as he picks his way gracefully up the rock to sit down next to him.

"My apologies," Etienne murmurs back. "I tried to keep the moping over here where it wouldn't disturb anyone. There's just a lot on my mind."

Astarion studies his face, clever crimson eyes not missing anything. And Etienne doesn't try to hide. What would be the point?

"Like what?" Astarion finally asks, when he's looked his fill.

"Oh, you know. The fact that I'm sick with worrying that I might kill the only people I can remember ever caring about me in the middle of the night. Nothing major." It's an attempt at levity, one that falls flat with each wooden syllable Etienne forces out.

"Ah, that. I figured that was what you were over here stewing about. Which is why I came over."

"Brave of you."

Astarion rolls his eyes. "I came over to tell you to give it a rest. Fretting about it won't make it any better. We're all keeping our eyes on you, and you're just going to have to trust us."

Trust. It's a curious thing. Etienne can't remember trusting anyone before this. Considering they can't remember anything before this at all. Their first go at it was Lae'zel, on the Nautiloid, and it's worked out for the better so far.

But still.

"Would you trust others to guide you through something like this?" he asks, glancing side long at his companion. "And protect themselves at the same time?"

"That's neither here nor there because this isn't about me."

"Convenient, that."

Fangs flash in the gloom as Astarion gives a toothy smile. "Isn't it just? But enough about your worrisome little problem. Tell me something else." His eyes drop to the violin in Etienne's lap, the fingers that slide restlessly over the strings. "Tell me about music."

Something leaps in Etienne's chest, and for once, it feels light. It feels almost...joyful. He knows there's something there. Something about playing an instrument or humming a tune that seems to center him, but he doesn't know where it came from. He can't remember.

He says as much to Astarion, keeping his voice low, like this is a secret shared between them. "When I woke up in that pod on the nautiloid, this violin was all I had with me, other than the clothes on my back. I don't remember ever learning songs, or learning to play, but I can. It feels natural. It feels right."

"You are rather good at it. And I don't say that lightly. Most bards I've come across are hacks looking to charm you out of your coin purse or your pants at best and completely tone deaf at worst. But you have a way with music."

It's high praise from Astarion, and it's sincere, which might be the most surprising thing. Even now, when there are no secrets between them, no more need for the game of seduction and protection that they started with, it's still easier to fall into over the top flirting and banter that began this...whatever it is.

Can it be a relationship when one party might slip up and murder the other in the middle of the night?

Etienne closes his eyes and drags in a deep breath. He tries to clear his head, but he hears the grating tones of his thrice damned butler in his mind, remembers the way his fingers had itched to close around Astarion's throat. The way he'd longed to paint that pretty pale skin and perfect white hair all red red red.

"Etienne." Cool fingers touch his face, and his eyes snap open. Astarion is very close now--close enough to kiss, close enough to kill. "Are you in there?"

"I don't know. I don't know why you're doing this," Etienne says, more than a little desperately. "I don't know why you won't... You told me once that if I transformed you'd kill me. We had a whole conversation about all the ways you could do it. How is this any different?"

"It is different," Astarion returns firmly. "Turning into a mindflayer would snuff you out. You would just be another one of them, another part of their disgusting little collective. It would mean you were lost completely and better off dead. I would expect you to do the same for me if I started to turn, or if Cazador managed to take control of me again. But I haven't lost you to this. And I don't mean to."

The knot of dread grows, a sickening cancer spreading unchecked, just like the Urges, threatening to drag Etienne under and drown him and everyone else in a sea of blood. "How do you know?" he whispers.

"Because you're still making music. And as long as you are, I know you aren't lost yet."

Such a simple thing to say, but it means everything.

Whatever Etienne was before, whatever the Urges are trying to make him into--he still has this. His violin, his songs. Songs he doesn't know how he knows, but feel engraved in his heart all the same.

When he takes his next breath, it's easier, doesn't feel like shards of glass in his lungs. Astarion is still touching him, sliding fingers into his hair, grazing the roots of Etienne's horns.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to start thinking you like me," Etienne murmurs, a smile finally gracing the bow of his lips.

Astarion laughs. "Not to worry, I'll be back to mocking you as is proper soon enough. I can't have you getting an ego and thinking you deserve preferential treatment or anything." Those elegant fingers scratch lightly at Etienne's scalp, and he sighs, letting himself fully relax for the first time in what feels like days.

"Thank you," he says, so softly it's almost inaudible. This doesn't come easily for either of them, this open honestly, these soft feelings, but it feels important.

It feels like Etienne might beat this, if only he remembers that he's not alone.

[off-brand-likes]

Stalker

This is a continuation from this story but you don't really have to read that one first.

Kallus was walking on a Coruscant street toward a train, and then he wasn't. His view fogged over, he stood still for a moment, and then he was lying on a hard floor somewhere dark. Binders around his wrists kept them near the floor.

His head ached. He felt thirsty enough to have been here a couple hours, but not more than that. Stretching out to the length of his extended arms and legs in all directions around him didn't bring him in contact with anything, though.

That was odd. Since he couldn't find anything else to work with, he sat up and went through the methods he knew to get out of binders. They didn't work.

A few minutes later, light appeared around a door just out of reach of his legs. He lay in a large room with curving walls and a low ceiling, suggesting a ship of some kind. The door opened to reveal a familiar short-haired figure silhouetted against the light. The newly healed burns on his face from the last time he'd seen her throbbed as if in anticipatory reaction.

"Shin," Kallus sighed, "I've told you, Sabine and I are just friends."

A red lightsaber blade extended to where it would've pierced his throat if he hadn't thrown himself back the second he heard it ignite. With his binders still attached to the metal floor, he landed in a bit of a heap on his back. "You see her almost every day."

"So do you," Kallus guessed, and Shin didn't argue about that, just watched expectantly, her face lit by the red blade held between them. That wasn't enough of an answer, then. "She's Zeb's family, and I'm his. It'd be rude for me to avoid her even if I wanted to, which I don't."

"Because you want her." Shin didn't sound certain about that, at least.

"I can assure you, we aren't interested in each other that way. Which you know, or I'd be dead." Kallus sat up slowly. Shin shifted her lightsaber out of his path, but didn't put it away. "I have two questions, then. How did you get me here without me knowing, and what is it you want my help with?"

"The Force," Shin said, apparently in answer to Kallus's first question. She stared at him for a moment, then retracted the lightsaber. "And... I've seen you buying things she'd like, lately. You celebrate birthdays. When's hers?"

Kallus put his face in his bound hands. "If I tell you, will you come with me to explain this moment to Sabine, so I don't have to?"

"No."

"Of course not."

[ahmoseinarus]

Day 14 Left for Dead | Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” 

[strawberrylabs]

Goodnight with Genshin characters! (Pt 1)

Featuring: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe

Summary: Nights with some of the Genshin cast based on their voice lines!

Warnings: some of these are quite angsty!(it depends on the voice line of the character), and some also contain spoilers for character lore!

Note: this is my apology post for being a solid 19 posts behind whumptober and ignoring my inbox<///3 im getting there guys I promise!!!

Lyney! (125)

"Good night. If you have trouble falling asleep, I have a few little props used for hypnosis that might help... or Maybe not. Either way, sweet dreams!"

Lyney's gentle smile after his comedic suggestion helps you feel at ease. He comes up with something different every night- you really don't know how he hasn't run out of magic-related-sleep-remedies yet.

He often goes to bed after you. Whether he's up practising some magic for his next show or doing some work for Father in the veil of the night doesn't matter to you. As long as you awake to find him there, unharmed, you can manage falling asleep with out him.

But, on the rare occaision he goes to bed at the same time as you, sharing in your night-time routine and holding your hand under the covers, the two of you can stay up for hours talking about anything, everything and nothing.

Freminet (156)

"You go ahead, I'm gonna stay up and read for a while. Hmm? What am I reading? It's, um... It's about diving. There's a bunch of skills I need to... Anyway, night!"

It's not uncommon for Freminet to read before bed. If you're lucky, he may even read with you next to him, allowing you to read along, always checking to make sure you've finished the page before turning.

Althought every night he says he's reading about diving, or marine life, or automechs, you've learned to pick up on the slight rouge of his cheeks, and the stutter that becomes a little more apparent when he lies about what he's reading. It's on these nights you know he's reading about Pers, and it's on these nights you know to leave him be.

Whether he chooses to sleep with you- in the same bed or the same room or the same house- you know not to betray that trust. And for as long as you respect him and his boundaries, he will be grateful.

Sometimes, in the night, you think you feel yourself awake to a faint 'thank you',

Kazuha (194)

"The wind has ceased... The world is silent, so now is the best time to rest well. See you tomorrow."

Kazuha often doesn't join you during the night, whether you are choosing to sleep or stay up. He opts to sit in the crows nest of the crux, listening to the silence of the night. He'll swear that from up there, it appears as if the world itself has gone to sleep with the night- the sea acts as a blanket for the life below, the stars and moon a night light for the trees and the sand and the surf, the clouds casting a shadow of calm upon the land.

Kazuha spends his nights writing about what he sees, and when you awake you find a poem written in his hand about how the beauty of the night reminds him of you.

On the nights when the land is not calm with dreams, but instead enraged with nightmares, he will sit with you in your cabin, and chat about the day gone by. Despite the conditions outside your walls, you sleep best on those nights. The nights where you awake to find you had both fallen asleep with smiles on your faces, after long conversations that drift into the night on lovesick clouds.

Venti

"Off to the land of nod? Haha, farewell, my friend!" (318)

You loath the nights where Venti bids you goodnight without joining you. You can tell by looking at the way he looks everywhere but you, by the way he laughs- hollow and false, so unlike his usual mellodic, spring filled chuckles- and you can tell by the way he says "friend", that he'll be spending his night alone in the hands of his statue, or at Windrise, or at Stormterrors lair. You know he'll be contemplating the centuries of his past.

He'll sit in his own hands, because they're not really his hands, but the hands of his first companion; and by doing so he can feel that maybe the memory of that unnamed bard who he held so dear is not truly forgotten by his people- after all, they built a statue of him, even if they did it unknowingly. He'll gaze at the bark and the leaves of the tree at Windrise, and recall how he let Mondstadt fall into the hands of couption and tyranny due to his negligance the first time around. He'll gaze upon the ruin's of Stormterro's lair- of Old Mondstadt- and replay the events from thousands of years ago, when he was just too weak, too slow, too powerless to save the first being to make him feel something.

You know you should leave him alone. Let him sort through his mind and his memories. But you also know that his mind plays the nastiest, cruelist of tricks on him- dragging him down with nightmares and jabs of "what if's" and "why's".

So when he turns to retreat into the neverending chasm of his mind, you reach out and grab his hand. You follow him into the chasm, and help brighten the darkness with the light of your presence.

Venti is reluctant to admit it- but he will.

'The monsters of my mind seem a little less scary with you here.'

Cyno

"Goodnight. Now, there's some criminal activity nearby that I'll go deal with."

You can't help but worry about Cyno when he says he's going out late to deal with something like this. You know as the General Mahamatra he has various responsibilities he must uphold. But when you're alone at night, your thoughts wander, and you ponder more on his situation.

You wonder, if his father hadn't suffered such a fate, would Cyno still be doing such dangerous jobs as a Matra? Or would he be a regular Spantamad scholar of the Akademiya? If he hadn't been pushed into this position, would he be lying with you now, drifting to a dreamless sleep with you, and not risking his life without recognition- or at least not the recognition he deserves.

You know it's not your place to think these things. Cyno is happy with his job, happy to follow after his Father, regardless of what things are said about him.

You quash your fears and your thoughts when you hear him return. He never left you for long. You knew he would always return to you. And he had every intention of doing so as long as the need remained.

Childe (182)

"Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!"

You always chuckled at his Ajax's tendancy to call everyone comrade. You teased him about it whenever it happened, and he always laughs with you and exclaims 'it's just habit!'

You know Ajax is busy, and he'd have less work during the day if he worked through the night. But he always insists on going to bed with you.

He created a bed-time-skin-care routine for you both- courtesy of him buying all the products. He puts is hair in a headband and follows the usual plan to a T.

When it's time to sleep, he smiles warmly at you. You pretend not to see the sadness in his eyes. He pretends it isn't there too.

So, for as long as the shadows of night will hide the pair of you, you'll bask in each others warmth, and soak up the laughter and the kisses you share.

And when the morning comes, as Ajax leaves to do jobs you never speak of, you will both eagerly await the fall of the sky's curtains, so you can forget the worries of reality once again.

Hope you enjoyed!

-Strawberry

Masterlist

Rules

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #28

A/N: This is set post-season 4 and so has vague references/spoilers for that.

xxx cctv

Lamb stares out at the team from behind his desk, a blank but somehow still deadly expression on his face. They've all been standing here, crowded in Lamb's office, for a silent and uncomfortable minute while they wait for him to explain why they've been summoned.

"Where the fuck is Cartwright?" he finally says.

Louisa has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. "He's probably just running late."

Lamb's lip curls. "Hmm. It's as though he doesn't value his employment here."

"I can try calling him," Louisa says, already pulling out her mobile. Lamb tsks.

"Don't bother. It's not that important, and if it were, it may be for the best that he's not here, anyway."

"So..." Roddy ventures after another length of silence, "if it's not that important then why've you called us all in here?"

Lamb snorts. "I don't fucking know anymore." He gestures lazily toward the door. "You can go. I'm sick of looking at all your faces."

"Fuck's sake," Shirley mutters under her breath as they all shuffle out into the hall, and it's hard to blame her.

Ever since, well, everything – with Frank, Coe and Patrice, Bad Sam, Cartwright Senior, Marcus...The mood in Slough is grimmer than ever. She'd never say it, but Louisa thinks she probably wouldn't be surprised if River just decided to stop coming to work.

They've just gotten out of Lamb's office, Shirley slamming the door behind her, when Louisa's mobile buzzes in her hand, at the same time that Shirley's chimes. Roddy's goes off too – a high, breathy moan emanating from his back pocket. Louisa and Shirley both make faces.

"Grow up," Louisa says at the same time that Shirley says, "You're foul!"

Roddy shrugs. "You're both just jealous that I've got a girlfriend."

Louisa sighs, shaking her head, and pulls up the email that just came in. The subject line reads, in all caps, YOU'RE NOT GOING TO WANT TO MISS THIS.

"What the fuck? 'You're not going to want to miss this'?" Shirley says, and Louisa's gaze snaps up to her.

"Is that what your message says?"

Shirley makes a face, turning slightly and holding her phone closer as if Louisa were trying to spy on her. "Yeah?"

"I got the same one," Louisa says.

Coe holds his phone up, the screen facing out. "Me too."

"It's a phishing scheme," Roddy sighs, sounding bored.

Louisa ignores him and opens the message. "All there is is a link."

"Definitely phishing," Roddy says. "You don't click on strange email links. Everyone knows that; this is basic stuff, babes."

"The same phishing link to all of us at the exact same time?" Louisa raises an eyebrow. "You don't think that's a little bit weird?"

"Fuck it, I'm opening it," Shirley says and then, a few seconds later, "Oh, shit."

Louisa thinks, for a second, that she's joking, pulling Roddy's leg, but then she looks over and sees the pale, wide-eyed expression on Shirley's face. Whatever she just opened, it's serious.

"See?" Roddy is saying, the smirk evident in his voice. "I told you, you stupid--"

"Roddy, shut the fuck up!" Shirley snaps, then looks at Louisa. "You'd better open it."

Louisa is already clicking the link.

The video is the slightly grainy black-and-white of CCTV footage. She recognizes the place; it's only a few streets from Slough. River is there, standing on the corner waiting for the light to change.

"What is th--" she begins, but the question dies in her throat and she nearly drops her phone.

The footage shows River crossing the street, making it halfway through the crosswalk before a car speeds into frame and collides with him. He goes up onto the hood, his body cracking the windshield, before rolling back onto the ground. And then it gets worse, because three people get out and it's immediately obvious, by the masks and gloves, that they aren't getting out to help. They drag River into the car before it takes off again.

"Oh, my god."

Someone had targeted River specifically, had known his route to work and timed it so that they would be nearby when he used that particular crosswalk. They'd hit him deliberately, knowing that the cameras would catch all of it. The fact that they'd been able to get a hold of the footage and send it to the Horses' emails speaks to a level of planning and access that makes Louisa feel sick to her stomach; whatever they've got in store for River, it can't be good.

She turns, is about to yell for Lamb, when his office door bursts open. Louisa can tell by the look on his face that he's seen the footage, too. Likely anything that's crossed her mind has crossed his, too. He looks ready to bust heads.

"Ho, get down to your office, now. Find me that car."

Roddy blinks. "What--" He looks over Louisa's shoulder at her mobile, where the video is playing on loop. "Oh, shit."

"Move!" Lamb barks.

Roddy nods, hurrying toward the stairs. "On it, boss."

"There are other people in that video, which means witnesses. Someone will've talked to the police. Guy, Dander, go down to the station and get whatever information you can from them. I wanna know everything they know. As soon as you two are finished, come straight back here."

"Right," Shirley says with a wide-eyed nod, heading for the door. "Louisa, you coming?"

Louisa forces herself to look away from her mobile, darkening the screen and shoving it into her back pocket. Even though she's not watching it anymore, the video keeps playing in her mind, the image of River being hit by the car and then dragged away stuck on repeat.

"Yeah."

"Guy," Lamb says, and Louisa turns. He fixes her with a serious stare. "I'm trusting that you can stay focused. That footage was sent with the intent to rattle."

Of course I'm fucking rattled, Louisa doesn't scream. She thinks it, though, and it's obvious that Lamb can tell.

"If I get the sense that your head's not on straight, I'll bench you without a second thought," he says.

"I've got it," Louisa says. It takes everything she has not to hiss it through grit teeth.

Lamb doesn't look fully convinced, but nods. "Go on, then."

xxx

River doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know where he is, or who brought him here or why. He doesn't know how long he's been here, either, since he's been unconscious for bits of it. What he does know is that his right leg is fucked. There are other aches and pains throughout his body – bruising and scrapes from where the car had hit him, and where he'd hit the pavement. But his leg is by far the worst, a sharp, sickening throbbing from his knee down that makes him want to crawl out of his body. He hasn't broken a bone since that time he fell out of a tree as a boy, but he remembers the incident well enough to be able to recognize this particular kind of hurt.

He also knows, from the tiny red light blinking high on the wall across from him, that he's on camera. And whenever there's an especially nasty jolt of pain, he remembers that someone is watching, and he grits his teeth and doesn't make a sound.

xxx to be continued...

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (ch. 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 12 - Prompts: Underground Caverns // "Just a little more"

Rated: T | Words: 573 | CW: non-graphic mentions of blood and injury.

Next Chapter>>

A/N: This fic is for @fionas-frenzy, because she mentioned a Tech-Lives fic yesterday, and I just had to make it happen. Also, yes, another Tech-Lives fic, because denial isn't just a river in Egypt, ya know??

It won’t be the fall that kills him. 

Although, that certainly did not help matters. 

Tech holds the shattered remains of his comm, cupped in trembling hands. Entirely irreparable without proper replacement parts. His pack is gone too. If he rests long enough, perhaps he can garner enough strength to find it. Or what’s left of it. Find something. 

He is not optimistic.

Strangely, the first loss that seems to trigger an emotional response is his goggles. It is less their importance to him, and more that they are the final straw placed on an already precarious situation. He is frustrated to find himself brought to tears as he pulls them from his bloodied face. 

Because he is bloody. There is blood everywhere. Head wounds have the unfortunate tendency to appear far worse than is necessarily accurate. He tries to find comfort in that, but it is threadbare and flimsy. Hardly worth considering. 

The goggles slip from his hand, falling amongst the wreckage of the railcar. He is not sure how he survived. It all seems surreal. The pain, the circumstances, the depravity of the whole situation. They’d lost their chance to find Crosshair. He sacrificed himself to give the remainder of his siblings a chance, fragile as it might be. He hopes they do not squander it. He hopes they get away. 

He hopes they are not foolish, and try to come back for him. 

He hopes they do.  

Sucking in a shaky breath, Tech knows he has to move. He cannot remain here. The Empire will come to scour the wreckage, find salvageable parts. Maybe even try to find him, or what is left of him. 

He moves to get up, tries to push himself to his feet, but his strength has abandoned him, pain excruciating. He only manages to draw himself up enough to crawl. And so he does. He is his only chance of survival, he only needs to put himself out of reach. 

His brothers will not come back for him. 

His brothers will think he is dead. 

Afterall, no one could survive such a fall. 

It is only logical. 

Please, come back. 

He finds an opening in the ground. An underground cavern. Cavern might be a generous description. He debates the likelihood that it is a dwelling for some sort of ferocious creature. He cannot remember what sort of animals are native to this planet. He knows he looked it up. He and Omega had discussed the likelihood of running into such things. The odds were low. What was it? 

Another defeated sound escapes him. He arranges himself, every movement agonizing, to descend boots first. It is a slight descent, easily manageable, even in his broken state. It is dark, but he is not afraid of the dark. He is alone, but he is not afraid of being alone. That is not entirely true. He does not have a memory of ever being truly alone. Not like this. Never like this. 

I don’t want to die like this. 

He knows he is hidden now. He just needs to rest. Close his eyes. Sleep for a moment. Maybe his mind will be clearer when he wakes. Maybe he can find a way home. Home to his brothers and his sisters. He never thought of them as home before, but it makes sense now. 

He isn’t ready to leave them yet. He just needs a little more time, yet.

END

A/N:

I might do something more with this story. Maybe. Possibly.

But if I don't, here's a spoiler: Tech does survive and he does find his family again. I promise! This fic might end hopelessly, but the greater picture is hope 🥲

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @royallykt

[im-normal-about-everything]

YALL I JUST HAD AN IDEA FOR A PURLY FIC AND I NEED TO RANT ABOUT IT

Okay so it's an AU of 'As Good As Dead' by Holly Jackson so spoiler warning for that book and the agggtm series in general (I haven't finished the book yet so some of this isn't entirely accurate)

So in AGAD the main character Pip is basically haunted by what happened in the book before (a man died and she blames herself) which i feel like could be Ponyboy post book. He could blame himself for three deaths, Bob, Johnny, And Dally

In AGAD Pip is also being stalked and only one person really believes her, her boyfriend

I'm thinking what if Ponyboy was being stalked by a soc and only Curly believes him

I have so many ideas for this in my head that don't make sense when I write it out like this sooo I might actually write this story?? Perchance??

I REALLY WANT TO BECAUSE ITS GOING TO HAUNT ME IF I DONT BUT I ALSO SAID I WAS GONNA WRITE WHUMPTOBER AND I DONT HAVE THE WILL POWER TO WRITE BOTH LAJFJOSJFNDSKK

So erm.i wrote the first chapter if anyone is interested...

[reiderwriter]

Unlovable

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reider Warnings: angst, canon death, cheating, implied infidelity, whump, angst, spoilers for Season 8 of Criminal Minds, mentions of shooting/ murder/ suicide/ general case facts. Summary: A stalking case brings back some bad memories for the BAU, but as the newbie, you're not sure why until you start recalling past case files you've read through. A/N: I wrote this as part of @tobias-hankel 's Pre-Whumptober Challenge, so it's short and sweet because I'm not great at angst, but it was a great challenge! I think this will probably be my last fic that mentions Maeve for at least a while because I'm getting a bit bored of writing around her lol, but let me know what you think with a like, comment, reblog, or message in my inbox!

It had been a few months since you’d joined the team, and you’d really thought you’d settled in well. After all, you’d worked on enough of their paperwork in your prior desk job to think you had a good grasp of everyone on the team’s working styles.

Until this case. They’d all been tense since the stalking case was called in, and you couldn’t figure out why. A girl had been taken captive by her stalker, whose identity had been so far unknown to the police department. As you sat talking through the possible suspects, you’d realized suddenly that you were the newcomer, an outsider in the team.

“Why is everyone so tense, we’ve worked cases like this one before, we can do this and save her.” You were hopeful of course, looking around the room to see if anyone else would agree.

“Each case is different, Y/N, you know that.” Morgan was the only one to reply, the others shooting careful glances around the room.

“But everyone is so tense for this one specifically, and I just don’t get it.”

“You read our case files, right?” Reid spoke up from the other side of the room. He’d been particularly tense on this one, and it was really his attitude that was worrying you the most. You’d become fast friends with him when you joined the team, and he was always happy and engaging with you. But there was something about this case that made him cold and distant and it was really rubbing you the wrong way.

“Yeah, I read all of them, but I don’t have an eidetic memory, so please, catch me up.”

“Maeve Donovan, does that ring a bell?” He almost spat the words out, but you were so thankful that he was even talking to you that you responded enthusiastically.

“Oh, of course, I read that case file. She was killed by her stalker, right? But we can’t base every case off our bad experiences, especially since that case had unforeseen circumstances.”

“Y/N,” Morgan gently warned you, but you were deaf to him as your eyes locked on Reid.

“Unforeseen circumstances?”

“She engaged in a relationship with an FBI Agent to help prioritize her case despite the fiance she had, which made her hard to track down to help. And her stalker was experiencing some serious delusions so you couldn’t stop her from killing both of them, but that’s a single case, and you’ve all worked at least ten other stalking cases in the past.

The air was sucked out of the room as Spencer stormed out, not bothering to tell you where you’d gone wrong. JJ trailed behind after him, going to pick up the pieces as the rest of them stared at you pityingly.

“Did I- Did I say something wrong?” You asked, but most of them just shook their heads and walked out.

“The agent she was dating was Reid. He offered to die instead of her, but that set her stalker off and that’s why she killed the both of them.” With each of Morgan’s words, you felt your heart drop.

“I didn’t-” You started but he cut you off with a pat on your shoulder.

“None of us were the greatest fans of Maeve after our investigation, but you weren’t here after she died. The kid was in pieces, and he still can’t really talk about it without some of those emotions creeping back in. Just… be a bit more understanding.”

You spend the rest of the case trying to apologize to Reid, but he avoids you like the plague, frustrating you to no end. You corner him one night on the way to his room, but he snaps at you with such violence you have to turn and run away before you let yourself cry in front of him.

Your resentment for Maeve grows as you watch him work though, seeing him become an empty shell of a man as he gets lost in his memory trying to save the new victim. You’re angry that she died, angry that she put him in that position, angry that no one forced him off the case, that no one foresaw the negative effect that this would have on him when it ended badly. You’re angry that she loved him first because your heart aches without his company.

Thankfully, the case ends well, and you manage to save the girl who has been abducted. You don’t even want to think about what that would mean for Reid, having to see the dead body of another girl knowing he couldn’t save them either. He practically runs off the jet when you land back at Quantico as you try, once again, to apologize.

Penelope comforts you at your desk as you cry, desperate to make things right. She’s the one who slips you his address, and not even an hour later, you feel like a shell of a person driving directly there, not stopping to worry about whether he’ll even see you.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t look surprised to see you. He doesn’t look anything at all, emotionally drained from the last week. You thought you would apologize right then and there, and leave, but he turns back into his apartment and you have to follow him in, saying nothing as he sets himself beside a chessboard again.

“Spencer…” you start, but you have to stop to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I didn’t know you were the agent. I wouldn’t have said what I did had I known.”

“Would you still think it?” He asked sharply, and you can feel the anger in his voice. He’s trying to control it, but he’s never been the best at masking his emotions with his team members.

“Spencer, please, I’m trying to apologize.”

“Would you have looked at me with pitying eyes? The FBI Agent who couldn’t even save his girlfriend from a stalker. The girlfriend who probably didn’t even love him either because what is there to love about-”

“Spencer! Stop putting words in my mouth.” Your tone is harsh but it gets him to finally look up at you. His tone was angry, but his eyes were all despair, shining with tears as he tried, so hard, to pull himself together. He’s failing.

“Why am I so unlovable? What about me is so difficult to love?” Your heart breaks at his words. The way he says it sounds like he is genuinely searching for an answer, his eyes darting between your own as his body sinks in on itself, and you sink with him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into you.

“Nothing. Nothing, Spencer, you are so loved. You need to know that I love you, that we all love you, Spencer.” Your voice breaks a little at your confession, as you suddenly realize how true those words are.

“But she still died. I had to have done something wrong, but I play it back again in my head, every conversation and-” he breaks down in sobs then, his entire body shaking with the weight of his grief. The wound isn’t new but it runs deep, and you quietly sob beside him, knowing no matter how much you love him it won’t be enough to replace the love he lost with her.

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Scene drawn in sanguine type colour showing a crowded street in the darkened background and Kotetsu Kaburagi and Barnaby Brooks Jr in the foreground, wearing their season 2 clothes. Kotetsu is holding up one hand and looking to the sky, a speech bubble beside him saying “Looks like it’s gonna rain”. There’s another speech bubble in a darker shade on the other side over the crowd, near where Albert Maverick can be seen within the crowd but not entirely present, this one saying “You’re still not alone Barnaby”. Barnaby is looking over his shoulder towards the image of Maverick with a shocked expression. Only Kotetsu and Barnaby’s eyes are in true colour. End ID]

-

Whumptober Day 16: Hallucination

Speech bubbles translate roughly as:

Kotetsu - “Looks like it’s gonna rain”

Maverick - “You’re still not alone Barnaby”

Some season 2 era Barnaby still being tormented by Maverick because that sort of mind manipulation can’t just be shaken off

I’m trying to work on trying some comic/manga style arting and this is my first attempt at something that could work as a panel

-

Context for people not in the fandom who don’t mind spoilers:

Albert Maverick killed Barnaby’s parents when Barnaby was 4 years old, and Barnaby saw him do this. Maverick used his powers to change Barnaby’s memory so it was a stranger with a tattoo on his hand who did it, and then adopted Barnaby to raise him and basically groom him to be a pawn to be a superstar hero and boost ratings for Maverick’s show about superheroes tackling crime and natural disasters. Eventually, after meeting his partner Kotetsu (on the far right), Barnaby learns the truth via some more memory editing and stuff to break the edited memories, and Maverick ends up being killed.

There’s not a massive amount in canon that addresses the psychological whump, other than Barnaby keeping a photo of Maverick in his apartment but turning it away, him having a fear of betrayal, and him admitting that he doesn’t feel like his life is his own. So here’s an addition - hallucinating his whumper in a crowded street.

[lovebug592]

Would you guys believe me if I said I have to watch Joel’s last episode of limited life for research purposes?

Explanation under cut because i want to overshare :3 (also spoilers for limited life)

First of all, it’s for a Whumptober prompt, but that’s a boring explanation and only partially why.

The more fun explanation is that it’s so interesting how, after Jimmy’s death, he just descended more and more into insanity. He and Grian had just made allies with BigB, but almost immediately after, he pushed a minecart off skynet 2.0 and it ended up killing BigB (not permanently but yk) it also seemed like he knew he wouldn’t last very much longer and was getting more and more desperate for time. He saw Grian getting closer to Pearl and BigB be cause Joel knew that Grian knew that too, and was preparing to lose another Bad Boy.

I might be over analyzing, but whatever. It’s my AU and I can do what I want with it

(also Grian was there for both Jimmy and Joel’s death, but that’s another post for another time. Right now I’m obsessing over Joel)

@ashrose-07 save me

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1, 27 (details at bottom) Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: Best friends Bradley and Jake arrive in a snowy forest for one of their monthly trips together. And now that everything is all set, it's time to let the fun begin... Word Count: 1523 TW: The warnings are in the tags and at the bottom of fic, but please avoid if possible due to spoilers Notes: This is the first part of a mini-series (linked below). I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @lorecraft for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

“Come on, man. I’m freezing my balls off out here.” Jake jams his hands into his jacket pockets as he bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, his breath pluming in front of his face. “Can’t we wait and do this during the day when it’s warmer?”

Pulling the Army surplus bag from the backseat of the pickup truck, Bradley rolls his eyes at his friend. “What, and increase the chances of someone stumbling across us? Don’t be stupid. Just be glad it’s a full moon so we can actually see what we’re doing. We don’t need a repeat of last time.”

“I told you we were starting too close to that cliff but, of course, no one ever listens to me,” Jake mutters under his breath, looking around the clearing. Then, louder, he says, “Can we at least build a fire or something? Just while we’re setting up or waiting for them to get here?”

“You know we can’t. Stop acting like this is our first time doing this and just help me already.”

But Jake ignores his request as he throws his hands up in the air. “Well, whose bright idea was it to do this where there’s snow? We could have planned a trip to Florida or Texas o-or California. You know, someplace warm where I can actually feel my fingers and the girls are still showing some skin. I swear, every person at that bar had at least four layers on and that one chick looked like the kid from A Christmas Story.”

Finally unable to put up with Jake’s whining any longer, Bradley hurls the bag at his feet. Jake scrambles back with a yelp, his eyes wide as he throws his hands over his face. But after a moment when he realizes the snow has cushioned the bag’s landing, he relaxes but glares at Bradley. “What the fuck, man?”

“First of all, dipshit,” Bradley says, stalking over to drive his finger into Jake’s chest. “It also snows in Texas and California. Second of all, we didn’t drive all the way to the middle of fucking nowhere just for you to drool over every pair of tits you see. You know the rules. No fucking random girls on these trips.”

“I wasn’t gonna fuck them. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little look—”

“And third of all, we decided to come up here because you were tired of the same old, same old, and proposed changing it up. You wanted more of a challenge than empty desert plains or summer mountainsides, so we said we would either try the snow or the swamp this time. But since you were too scared of gators—”

“I didn’t say scared, I said concerned—”

“Scared—we decided on snow. So if you have a problem, you have no one to blame but yourself.” Bradley jams his finger deeper into Jake’s chest before turning around and walking back to the truck. “Now, if you’re done complaining, we have work to do. And the sooner we get everything ready, the sooner we can have some fun.”

Jake swears under his breath, but this time he sulkily trudges over to help. Bradley gives him a small smile and a nod as he hands him another one of the bags. Jake could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted to be, but the two of them had been friends since the first day of college so Bradley had gotten used to it for the most part. And at the end of the day, there was no one else in the world he trusted more. Plus, with everything Bradley was dealing with at work and with his family, it was nice to be able to just get out in nature with his best friend and let off some steam every month or so. 

And, despite the cold, this location is perfect. The moon reflects off the fresh snow illuminating the area and the pale trees surrounding them stand like silent guards as the two men unload their supplies. Twenty miles or so from the nearest town, it is the ideal place to set up camp with little chance of being disturbed. 

Bradley closes his eyes and takes in the sounds of the forest around him: the rustle of the frosty wind, the soft creak of the trees as they shift and bend, the low hoot of an owl as it takes off somewhere in the distance. The only man-made noise that can be heard is the crunch of snow beneath Jake’s boots as he walks over to place his bag next to the one already lying on the ground. They couldn’t have asked for a better spot.

Though he wasn’t going to admit this to Jake at the moment, Bradley is excited at the prospect of trying this in the snow. For the past ten years or so, he and Jake and occasionally a few other friends had been organizing these trips. And while he still enjoyed each and every one of them, things had started feeling a bit repetitive. He wanted more of a challenge, an extra layer of excitement and thrill that he just wasn’t feeling anymore. And this feels like it might be just the thing to recapture that spark. 

They haven’t even finished unloading the truck and already Bradley can feel a crackle of energy in the air that usually isn’t there. It’s as if the entire forest is holding its breath, just waiting in anticipation for the real event to begin. 

And who was he to keep it waiting?

As Jake places the last bag on the pile, Bradley scans the surroundings one last time before giving it his nod of approval. “I think we’re good to go. We still have to wait for them to get here, but I don’t see why we can’t get things rolling until then.”

“It’s about fucking time!” Jake whoops loudly, charging over to the truck. 

“Idiot,” Bradley mumbles softly to himself as he shakes his head, yet he can’t deny the adrenaline pounding in his veins at the thought of what comes next. He had been waiting almost two months to do this again, and now the time had finally come.

Jake runs over to the truck's left so Bradley takes his place on the right. As they both rest their hands on the massive metal toolbox in the back of the truck, Bradley catches Jake’s eye. The blonde is grinning like an idiot and practically vibrating with excitement. Bradley smiles back, and on the count of three, they both open their side of the toolbox.

As the winter air rushes into the box bringing the falling snow softly floating down inside of it, you begin to stir with a low moan. The drugs Jake had slipped in your drink must be beginning to wear off. You shift slightly in your cramped container but the ropes tightly securing your hands and bare feet prevent much more than that. 

Bradley watches with rapt delight as you flinch at the cold kiss of snowflakes settling on your cheek and, with what seems like a great effort, your eyes drag themselves open. For a moment, you stare up at Bradley and he sees nothing but hazy confusion in your gaze. But as Jake comes around the truck to stand beside him, twirling one of his knives as he grins down at you, that delicious dread-filled look of terror blooms in your eyes and you begin thrashing around in the toolbox, pulling on your bonds. 

So predictable, and yet, Bradley never got tired of it. The fear and helplessness that radiated from their prey was like a drug to him with a high that no other experience could match. Already, he feels the endorphins and dopamine rush flooding his system and he hasn’t even laid a finger on you yet. But once he had…

You begin hollering for help at the top of your lungs, the sound muffled slightly by the wonderland of snow all around you. It’s an understandable response and one that each and every girl they had captured over the years had tried. However, this time something is different. This time there are no tears or sobs mixed in with the screams. There is still fear, yes, but along with it is a determination, a fire they had only ever seen in a handful of prey.

Jake chuckles and nudges Bradley, his knife spinning faster as he soaks in the screams that only the two of them will ever hear. Bradley nods back, knowing they are thinking the same thing. This one is special. This is going to be a hunt to remember.

Several minutes later as your voice grows hoarse and falters with the realization that no one is coming for you, you curl into yourself as much as the box will allow—as if that could save you from them.

Climbing up the side of the truck so he towers over you, Bradley smiles, his eyes roaming every inch of your body. “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Part 2 coming soon!

TW: Dark!Bradley, Dark!Jake, Locked Away, Drugged, Explicit Language, Hunted for Sport, Mentions of Past Kidnappings

Taglist: @green-socks, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @wanderdreamer, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxn, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @clancycucumber230, @mayhemmanaged, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @sunlightmurdock, @roosterbruiser, @sparrows-corner, @ryebecca, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35, @shanimallina87, @mak-32, @blue-aconite, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @desert-fern, @withahappyrefrain

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

A/N: I'm not completely happy with it, but here you are. I got it finished in time! For this one, I focused more on the lyrics of the song than the word prompts. The first half of the song in particular really reminded me of Chell and Wheatley’s relationship, whether you ship them or not. I tried really hard to keep this one short, since I am already struggling a little to keep up with the prompts and keep my usual style/quality of writing, so I hope y’all like it!

No trigger warnings this time, but spoilers for all of Portal 2 :)

As far as Wheatley could tell, space had a way of driving one insane.

At least, he thought it did. Out here, his only benchmark of what was “sane” was his space-obsessed companion and himself. And he had proved just how absolutely splendid of a role model he was in that area. A true bastion of mental stability, he was. Especially when he had singlehandedly destroyed a massive, sprawling super facility, gone absolutely off his rockers, and tried to murder the only person who cared for his sorry metal husk in who knew how long.

“Yeah, I really am kidding myself, aren’t I?” Wheatly asked aloud, to only be answered by silence.

At some point in the last few hours – or had it been days? It was really quite hard to keep track of such linear things when you were spinning uncontrollably, handle over carapace, around the Moon which itself was spinning uncontrollably around another astrological body, the Earth, which was in turn spinning uncontrollably around a bloody massive ball of blindingly bright fire—

Wait where had he been going with that thought? Oh, right. His astronomically obnoxious companion in exile.

At some point, Kevin – that was what he had taken to calling the personality core who had been jettisoned out into the depths of space with him – had gained a little more speed than he had in orbit, and was now a good distance away from Wheatley, and out of range of his internal radio receptors. Because of course Aperture Science had thought up a way to allow Aperture Tech to communicate even in the soundless vacuum of space.

Initially, he had thought that being forced to constantly listen to Kevin’s babbling would be the thing to drive him insane. Goodbye higher reasoning skills! You would be missed. But now, Wheatley was starting to almost miss the yammering about stars, comets, and space in general.

Because with the overpowering, infinite silence of the cosmos pressing down on his audial processor, Wheatley was starting to hallucinate. At least, he thought he might be. What was really categorized as a “hallucination” was likely up to debate; maybe there was a requirement jotted down there somewhere about needing to be human, or a non-Aperture Science Technology. Either way, something wasn’t meshing right back there in the ol’ central processing unit, and it was getting to him.

It had started with small things. Little flashes of light that might have simply been attributed to the damage his lens took when She crushed him in her huge, terrifying claw-arm. The twitching remained, although there were no sparks to accompany the obnoxious bug out in the vacuum of space.

Now though, it had developed into something significantly more concerning. Periodically, Wheatley would hear the low, droning noise that flowed through the very veins of the Laboratories, the one he had never really realized was there until it was gone. It was strange, how many things one realized they had taken for granted when they were floating pointlessly through space.

The people they took for granted.

That was the other oddity, of course. There was no one to talk to out there, and no one to listen to with Kevin temporarily out of conversing distance. At least, Wheatley hoped it was temporary…

Anyways, with no one to actually speak to – a real one-on-one conversation, with a sentient being who could actually comprehend what was being said and maybe even talked back— well, maybe not that one. Ironically, the only sentient thing that ever really responded to what he said was the exact murderous supercomputer who wanted him dead more than anything in the world. Except maybe for the death of Her nemesis and 2-time vanquisher.

No, the sentient being he was thinking of was quite the opposite. He had never heard her speak during their time in the facility, not once, and yet it always felt like a conversation to him. A real give-and-take conversation. He would talk, she would listen. He would give an order, and she would either follow it or give him one of those mildly confused glances, or annoyed eyerolls, or graveside-smiles. It felt like she listened.

And with no one listening out here, no one for an astronomically long distance…

Wheatley liked to pretend that maybe, just maybe, if he ever got to talk to her again, he could change things. Maybe, he could have tried to see things another way than from his stupid, narrow viewpoint, then things would have been better.

And sometimes it was like she was really there. Really, actually there.

Like they were back on the run, speeding through the endless catwalks between the testing tracks – or just strolling. There were those dreams too, if they were considered a dream since he was a robot and couldn’t technically sleep.

They would talk— well, he would talk, and she would do the listening and reacting that she was so very skilled at. Sometimes it was just babble, a skill Wheatley had down pat; that was maybe the only thing he was good at, come to think of it. Talking. But the point was, it felt so real. And every time he twitched, or otherwise snapped back to reality, it was like being hurled into space all over again.

The worst part, of course, was knowing that this was all his own doing. It was his own, stupid fault that he couldn’t do anything right, and he would never be able to do anything right because he was a moron. A moron who couldn’t see what he had until he had singlehandedly destroyed it. And oh, how I wished I could take it all back, everything. I really swear it.

I’m sorry. That’s what I would say, if I ever saw her again. I was monstrous, and horrible, and you deserved so much better.

I’m sorry.

[heroofshield]

Whumptober Day 2: Trust Issues (ME:A Reyes/Ryder)

Spoilers for High Noon

"You look like you're waiting for someone."

The familiar words made Annabel Ryder freeze in her tracks. Light feet landed on the gravel of the cave floor and she didn't want to believe the sight of Reyes Vidal in front of her.

Quickly putting two and two together, Anna felt her chest tighten with...something. Through the roar of blood in her ears, she heard Sloane prattling on about how the second rate smuggler needed to leave, to let the adults in the room tend to the business at hand.

"That's why he's here." she interrupted sharply, her voice oddly cold-not betraying the mixture of emotions running through her mind.

"Correct as always Pathfinder." Reyes shot Anna his trademark wink, only realizing too late that she was staring daggers at him with her eyes. Pulling his attention back to Sloane, he was already wondering if he had chosen wrong; that Ryder wouldn't have his back during the showdown.

"Shall we get on with it then? Last one standing takes control of the port." Reyes started to slowly circle Sloane, giving his sniper a good view of her.

Ryder, there is a sniper trained on Sloane Kelly. I recommend intervening.

Anna flicked her gaze upwards at SAM's comment, but didn't move. Then the sniper rifle sounded and Sloane died almost instantly from the radioactive round.

Reyes glanced at Ryder while taking a hesitant step towards her, hoping that she'd let him explain himself before she fully made up her mind.

"Stay where you are Vidal." Anna said stiffly, not looking at Reyes while her hand automatically moved to her hip where her pistol was but it closed on air. She’d forgotten that part of the deal with Sloane was no weapons in the cave. "Or I'll shoot you in the chest."

"Anna-"

"Pathfinder. Or Ryder." There was a beat of silence before Anna continued, "You want to remove the knife from my back or are you going to kill me as well? A ‘no witnesses’ kind of thing."

"Ann-Ryder. Let me explain. I wanted to-"

"No." Anna yelled, cutting Reyes off. "I trusted you. I told you about Scott, about what my dad did, what I've been through since coming here." She let out a laugh that was laced with tears before continuing, "You were so helpful in solving the murders in the port, and I convinced myself it was because you were with the Resistance and you actually wanted to improve the port. But no, it was all just a game to get me on your side wasn't it."

Anna took a shaky breath, the tears blurring her vision and it took a moment for her to feel confident enough to continue. "Tell me I was wrong, that you didn't seduce me because you wanted the Pathfinder on your side when the showdown with Kelley happened."

Another beat of silence filled the cavern and Anna wanted to yell, scream, beg Reyes to answer her.

"Tell me I was wrong, Reyes."