#the verbal abuse fic

[dangerpronebuddie]

😭😭😭😭😭😭

i check for this fic so often, i can not wait until it’s done!!

I'm so happy you're excited for this one dear 🥰. You helped me write quite a bit! I'm hoping it won't be too much longer before this one's done.

“He's our grandson,” Helena says. “He needed us.” “And I'm your son,” Eddie hisses. “I needed you, too.” And that seems to be the story of his life. He's never been their priority. Never been someone they worry about. At this point, he doesn't even know if he wants them to worry about him. He's never been anyone's baby. Why start now? “What you needed was to forget about Shannon,” Ramon says. “I won't,” Eddie declares. “What I needed was the chance to grieve her. Something you never let me do.” “She made your life hell,” Ramon insists. “We both made difficult decisions. Neither of us was perfect,” Eddie says. “That doesn't mean I didn't love her.” “Then why did you separate if you loved her?” Helena asks. “Christopher needed his mother and you let her walk away.” “That's what she wanted,” Eddie says, trying desperately to keep his voice even. “She needed me and I was gone.” “You were serving your country,” Ramon says. "What reason did she have to abandon you and Christopher?"

"Her mom needed her," Eddie defends. "And I wasn't there for her."

"So she ran from her responsibilities," Ramon huffs.

Before Eddie can open his mouth to defend her, his mother speaks. “It's become hereditary,” she drawls. "So it's all my fault Christopher’s first instinct is to run?" Eddie protests.

[ddejavvu]

Do you think you could do Sirius Black with the “I hate everyone but you.” Personality.

James is immediately alerted to your glum mood when you sit down without so much as a greeting, and he leans across the table with narrowed eyes.

"What's'a matter, Y/L/N?"

"Sirius is mad at me." You reveal drearily, wrapping your hand around the fork set at your place even if you don't feel like eating.

"Oh," James's brow scrunches, "Don't take it personal, babe. He's having a shit day, he heard from his mum. Nothing nice, I bet. Wouldn't let me see it. Just- he's grouchy with everyone today, don't let it bother you."

"But he told me to come back tomorrow," You recount, "Like he can't stand seeing me for the entire day! What am I supposed to do, James, we're set to study in the library at three. And- and I could help him! I could be there for him, but he's pushing me away instead."

James's brows raise, and a pitying smile works its way over his face, "Love. You're the kind of person that wants to be around people all the time. You seek comfort out when you're sad; Sirius doesn't. If you love him, y'gotta let him sulk for a bit. Then he'll come to you. And-" His nose scrunches, his brows wrinkled, "And all he said was 'come back tomorrow'? That's nothing. He told me to get my bespectacled arse out of the room before he shut the window on my head."

Your face contorts in horror, "James! James, that's so mean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, darling." He snickers, "That's what I mean, that's just what Sirius does."

"Not to me he doesn't," You frown, "That's not okay, James, he should treat you better than that."

"He's having a rough time," James shrugs, "Doesn't bother me. He's all talk, he'd never do any of it. Just needs to blow off steam, y'know? And I think we both know why he tones it down for you, Y/N."

"I'm not special," You snap, reigniting the age-old argument between you and James that Sirius totally does not have feelings for you, not one bit.

"Right," James gives you an overexaggerated roll of his eyes, curls bouncing as he does so, "That's why he threatened to behead me and all he did to you was kindly shoo you away."

"Maybe you just piss him off more than me," You stick your tongue out at him, and turn to Remus for support as the boy sits down beside you.

"Morning," James takes the lead, shooting you a smirk out of the corner of his eye, "Talk to Sirius today, Moony?"

"Little shit told me if I didn't stop talking to him - which I only tried once, by the way," Remus groans, "- he'd 'mess me up' so hard my transformations felt like reprieve."

James's eyes widen and he tries tamping down a snort, tucking into his breakfast instead. Remus turns to you and your once-more incredulous gaze, scoffing lightly, "And I suppose he just told you to come back tomorrow?"

"That's exactly it!" James slams a fist on the table, a chunk of egg flying from his mouth that Remus shakes off of his hand with a grimace, "Moony, tell her she's special."

"I'm not special," You desperately try deluding yourself, shoveling your own forkful of food into your mouth as soon as you're done speaking, so that you don't have to answer to their protests, "He just hates you both."

[oozebrain]

Art x gender neutral Reader. Art and reader are both ND.

Chapter summary: A new neighbor moves into the house beside you. Being the only other kid in the neighborhood, you’re excited to meet him and hopefully make your first friend.

Warnings include: implied child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother), angst, ableism (including r slur), swearing. Minors dni.

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter 1

The sound of a moving truck woke you up. You grumble sleepily and pull your covers over your head. It’s so piercing and loud in the quiet. You look to your alarm clock and it reads six thirty in the morning. It’s the weekend and you were looking forward to sleeping in, but with the incessant beeping it was impossible. Once the beeping subsided, you thought there would be peace, but loud banging and thudding followed after.

Annoyed, you toss your blanket off and go to the window to see what has so rudely woken you up. In the yard you see a tall woman and a smaller figure next to her. He seems restless, looking around this way and that as he soaks up his new surroundings. He looks to be about your age and excitement blossomed in your chest. 

In a hurry you put on your clothes and comb your fingers through your hair. As you enter the living room you see your mother. She is also getting ready, her own curiosity piqued. You were both nosy, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Are we going to see the new neighbors?” You ask, pulling on your jacket. 

“That goddamn truck woke me up. I’m going over there to ask them who the hell moves in at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.”

You hoped she wouldn’t. You desperately want to make a good impression. You want a friend, an acquaintance, anything. Anyone. You try to placate her, “Maybe we can all be friends and have cookouts and stuff.”

She ignores you, muttering to herself as she puts on her own jacket and grabs her purse and keys. You silently follow her out the door, the bracing breeze of the fall morning tearing through your neck. You pull your jacket closer, the thin material doing little to actually block out the cold. You’ve gotten used to it over the years but the breezes always managed to rip you up.

The neighbors are less than a few feet away and the pair turn to acknowledge you as you walk up. The boy turns away and retreats by the garage, away from the group that’s been created. Naturally, you separate as well and migrate over to the teenager.

He is gangly and taller than you are. In the cold morning he is bundled up with a jacket and hat with ear flaps. You could barely see his face from the scarf wrapped around it, which he pulled up over his nose when you walked up. Despite being bundled up, he was still huddled up into himself and withdrew from you when you approached by taking a step back. He eyed you warily so you stopped short, offering a friendly wave.

He doesn’t speak but continues to stare at you with apprehension. He looks down at the ground and awkwardly kicks a pebble out of the way. It scoots over to you and you gently kick it back. He pauses and stands rigid for a moment before looking back to you. He says nothing but kicks the pebble back, this time with more enthusiasm and you reciprocate.

The boy doesn’t seem interested in conversation so you don’t force the subject and continue to play in a silence. You notice he keeps looking back to his mother, and you notice this because you are doing the same. Every now and again you check over your shoulder to see if she is watching you, but she is still talking to the boy’s mother.

You look back to him and offer him a smile. You can’t see his mouth but you see his eyes crinkle slightly in the smile hidden beneath. It seemed like he was shy, just as you were. You idly sway, hands behind your back and fingers fidgeting as you coax yourself through this encounter with a new person. 

It’s difficult to meet new people. You’ve lived here your whole life but can’t name a single person. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so seeing him step out of the car gave you hope that things could change. You tried not to appear over eager but you truly were hopeful you would be able to make a friend.

“Arthur, who’s this?” Comes a voice to your left. You both turn your heads in unison to look at his mother. He doesn’t answer or move, he merely stares with wide eyes, hands in his pockets and huddled into himself. His smile is gone. Again, you notice his behavior because you do the same, your own gaze wide with apprehension now that attention has been drawn to you. 

She closes the distance and smiles down at you, “Sorry dear. He doesn’t mean to be so rude, he’s just retarded.”

You grimace some at this statement. She takes your scowl of disdain as confusion and continues to rub salt in the wound, “Retarded means he’s slow. He can’t talk. I think he can, but someone just doesn’t want to because they like making things hard for mommy, don’t they?”

She punctuated her overly sweet sounding condescension by pursing her lips and looking down at him over her glasses. He averts his gaze and stares at you instead. He is silently saying something to you with his eyes. It speaks loudly to you, it screams, it roars. He hates her. After a moment he looks away to stare off into the distance while she stands over him in her own silence.

“Well I think we’d better be going. It was great meeting you both.” Your own mother cuts in, sensing the awkward tension. You wanted to leave the situation, but didn’t particularly want to leave him. Arthur glanced back at you before dropping his gaze again. He turned and left without a word, footsteps plodding heavy on the concrete steps up to the porch. The metal screen door closes behind him with an angry slam.

Arthur’s mother sighs, throwing her hands up in the air and looking to your mother apologetically, “Kids. You give them everything and they still want more.”

Your own mother says nothing, but a look crosses her face having her own words repeated to her from a stranger. She makes a noncommittal noise and motions for you to come with her. You give a half-hearted wave goodbye and begin your walk home, just a short distance across the yard. 

As you turn to wave you can see Arthur staring at you from the living room window. His scarf is off to reveal a healing lip and your stomach tightens. You really don’t want to leave him here, but if you don’t comply that would be you next. But still, you have to do something, anything.

“Can me and Arthur play later, mom?” You put her on the spot. All the pressure was off you and now rested on her shoulders. She said nothing for a moment, flicking her eyes between you and Arthur’s mother before nodding.

“As long as it’s okay with his mom it’s alright with me.” She agrees and the two of you look to her. She folds her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she thought. You didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was visibly thinking long and hard about something, and you didn’t like it.

After a time she relented, “They have to stay in the front yard. I don’t want Arthur wandering around until we know our neighbors better.”

Your mother seems a little peeved at that statement, taking it as a personal offense, but doesn’t address it. Instead she chuckles awkwardly and motions again for you to follow, which you do. The two of you make it to the house and once you are inside the truth comes out.

“I do not want you hanging out with that kid.” She turns to you, “He’s fucking weird, what if he hurts you?”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t come off as threatening, in fact he was the one who had initially withdrawn when you approached. Arthur didn’t seem like a mean or bad kid, he looked... scared, stressed, absent. He looked the same way you did after a long night of berating, or the look of dread when you heard ‘just wait until we get home’.

“I do not want you hanging out with him. I’m going down there later to tell her you have a stomachache.”

You look at her with a pleading, but angry, expression. Your ears burn and you clench your teeth. You are twelve years old but she manages you like a toddler, “I don’t have any friends, why can’t I play with him?”

“Because he’s a freak. You have no idea what his mom told me, he’s a fucking nutcase.” She sighs, “Kids like him are why they should bring back asylums. You’re not going, that’s final. I am not sending you out with him.”

“It’s just in the yard!”

“You’re NOT going!”

“You never let me do anything!” You scream at her, fists balled and ready to fight back. You were more worked up than you should be, and part of it was your worry for Arthur. You needed a friend, and he needed a friend too. In your short time meeting him, you could tell he understood you, and you understood him. There was an unspoken solidarity. He knew, and you knew. You just wanted a friend, what the hell was wrong with everyone?

“I’m doing what’s best for you, I’m looking out for you. You should be more thankful that I actually give a shit about you and don’t let you run around with fucking psychopaths who hack up animals!” She screams back, taking an intimidating step toward you. 

You aren’t having this, not today. You scoff at her and trudge to your room. The door slams behind you, an echo from just moments before. You lock the door behind you and flop onto your bed, tightly hugging the pillow beside you. The door wasn’t allowed to be locked but you didn’t care right now, that was a problem for later you. You didn’t want to even hear her breathe right now.

Frustrated tears come and you bury your face in the pillow. You were so angry and crestfallen. She always did this, she always agreed to plans in the moment then changed them as soon as you were behind closed doors. Any attempts to make friends had been foiled, and now that it had been so long without a friend you deeply struggled to make connections.

But you felt a connection with Arthur. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to talk to him, to give him someone to confide in, and you wanted someone to confide in as well. After a small cry you sit up on your bed, still hugging your pillow in your lap. From the corner of your eye you can see a small flash of light blinking over and over.

You get up to walk to the window and shield your eyes at the flashlight. Across the way is Arthur framed by the window pane. His bedroom seems to be across from yours. He turns off the flashlight and offers you a small, shy wave which you reciprocate. He flashes the light at you again. You hold up your finger to tell him to wait a moment and retrieve your own and flicker it at him.

And then you see it, a smile. It’s small and stiff, but it’s there. The two of you sit there at the window in the dim morning light, sending nonsensical Morse code that only the two of you can understand. Fate held you both in its hands as it linked the two of you together through these small flashes of light. You were exhilarated, and judging by the growing smile on his face, so was he. 

[diazheartsbuckley]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday ✨

So yesterday I pumped out roughly 5k words. “Oh Maya, for any of your existing wips?” You ask.

Ha! I wish 😂

I completed a square on my BTHB card and it wasn’t easy because Eddie gets racially profiled and I tried to do it justice. So let lmk what you think!

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for you today?” Eddie asks, trying to extend an olive branch to the hostile officer who looks him up and down, like he isn’t believing what he’s seeing.

“I don’t remember asking you a goddamn question” The officer says and Eddie’s eyes linger on his silver-plated name tag for a little too long for the officer's liking. Atkins, Eddie notes as he lifts his eyes back up to the officers face, seeing him shifting as Eddie makes eye contact with him.

Eddie clenches his jaw and nods briefly, Atkins almost circling him like a shark around its prey, and Eddie hopes to God that the dim street light doesn’t show what he’s feeling right now. “Look, I’m sorry, man. I was-..." Eddie doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Atkins cuts him off.

“Do you not speak fucking English? Don’t speak unless I ask you a question” Atkins stops in his tracks, tilting his head to inspect the white plastic bag in Eddie’s hand. Eddie can already tell where this is going from the looks on Atkins’ face and he tries his best to keep his cool, biting his tongue to not argue with the officer.

Tagged by

@tizniz and @bidisasterevankinard 💗

Tagging

@watchyourbuck, @daffi-990, @theotherbuckley, @jeeyuns, @princessfbi, @exhuastedpigeon, @actualalligator, @jesuisici33, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @namjroon, @bucksbignaturals, @bucks-daddy-issues, @thewolvesof1998, @weewootruck, @badthingshappenbingo, @epicbuddieficrecs, @eddiestummy, @monsterrae1, @wildlife4life, @pirrusstuff, @elvensorceress @wikiangela @dangerpronebuddie, @kitteneddiediaz, @hippolotamus, @honestlydarkprincess, @inell, @steadfastsaturnsrings, @spotsandsocks @badthingshappenbingo🫶🏻

[blacknidstang]

Demon Dean you were everything to me. you deserved you whole season, you deserved brutalizing your baby brother verbally and physically and sexually all the while looking stunning as the most gorgeous motherfucker, you deserved letting out every untold sick twist inside Dean, let his anger toward Sam, toward his family, toward the world flooding out until you wouldn't care. Oh demon dean you were like a bright shining falling star through the sky only to burn away too soon

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Coming Soon...

Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

A/N: This story will contain flashbacks and mentions of the physical and verbal abuse of a child. If this is a sensitive subject for you or you might be triggered by this content, please consider whether this story is right for you.

A/N 2: I’ve tagged those who’ve previously asked to be on my tag list, but please, please let me know if you want to be removed for this one. And if you want to be added, just comment, DM, or Ask!

When she told Uncle Bobby she had no intention of returning to Lawrence until her father was gone, he and Jody booked a slot at City Hall to get married and asked her and Dean to be their witnesses. Y/N was delighted to be able to share their special day with them.

Saying goodbye to them was hard, but her goodbye with Dean last night had been so much worse. As she pulled out onto the main road that led out of town, she sighed deeply as her memory flashed back to last night.

Y/N and Dean had spent the whole night together, their true feelings escaping them in the throes of passion. It wasn’t their first time together, but it was the most special, closely followed by the time they took each other’s virginity when they were both sixteen.

Her feelings for Dean ran deep. He’d always owned her heart, and after a night of raw, emotional lovemaking, she knew he always would. Who knew? Maybe one day she’d come back to Lawrence, come back to him. But it wasn’t fair for either of them to live on a maybe.

“Ask me to stay,” Y/N whispered in the darkness of her bedroom. Both of them were naked, sweating, and basking in their afterglows.

“You know I can’t do that, princess. I want to, but I can’t,” he responded, his voice cracking with emotion before he kissed her bare shoulder. Her lip trembled, but she swallowed her tears and rolled over to straddle his waist.

“Then make love to me again, Dean.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek and grinned wildly at the road sign despite her sad emotions. 

“YOU ARE NOW LEAVING LAWRENCE”

Tag list: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @iprobablyshipit91 @twinkleinadiamondsky @mrsjenniferwinchester @spnwoman

[lazyveran]

jesus christ every time i scroll down another post you have something fascinating to say abt the azula in ur brain. well?????? what happens to her post canon???!?!?

starrdio we HAVE to kiss. thank you for asking...

SO. my main vision of azula is that immediately post-war zuko has. absolutely no idea what to do with azula. he's just ascended the throne and he has half his country wanting him dead and he's only sixteen. azula was fire lord for a day, wanted to kill him, has tried to kill him, is probably still loyal to ozai (and god he is NOT telling her about the ozai bending-away situation rn. OR URSA.) so he places her in a highly secure prison until he's settled enough to figure out what to do with his war criminal baby sister

and the prison guards... well, they hate azula. to many of them, she's the closest thing they have to punishing ozai so they treat her accordingly (not like the child she is, but some sort of monster they pin all their anger and grief onto). they shave her head as a sign of her defeat, dishonouring her, they put her in a cell with no sunlight, and they regularly try to bait her. not that it ever works

azula goes nonverbal. for months. she's only in the jail for a few weeks before zuko is able to visit, sees her conditions, and promptly banishes the entire staff and takes her back to the palace. he puts her up her own wing of the palace, tries to care for her best he can, but azula is silent. she barely even looks at him, or anyone. it's like her spirit is just... gone. she shoves away all the familiar figures in her life - zuko, mai, ty lee, her servants, mirrors (for fear they're hallucinations. she no longer trusts her own reality and it's terrifying and she's so scared of her own mind. she refuses to bow to the false visions of living and dead, desperately trying to overcome this 'weakness')

for azula, her only words for nearly a year were her anguished screams and cries in the last agni kai. as she no longer feels worthy of her bending after her dishonour and defeat, she no longer uses her voice. her second greatest weapon, her wit and words and the way she weaved them, is gone. in it, azula remains

[residentfromnowhere]

| CLICKED | PART: 2

ModernAU!SanemiShinaguzawaXAFABReader

TW: Narcissism, Threats, Mentions of Manipulation, minor violence, Mentions of Verbal Abuse, mentions of Mental abuse and Angst

“What? What the fuck did you just say?”

With the initial shock now gone, you slowly straighten yourself and a calm feeling washes over you. “Let’s break up.” You say while continuing to keep eye contact with him. At first, he laughed. Thinking it was just a joke but when he looked back at you to see your once angered face turn into an almost icy look, he stopped laughing. All of these years of dating and he’s never seen you like this nor heard you speak like this. He’s used to you being docile and letting things like his shitty mood and horrible playboy behavior slide so imagine the shock he felt when he seen that you were serious.

The silence between you too was deafening but you couldn’t careless. It was as if you were going through the five stages of grief but instead skipped to the in between of depression and acceptance. You didn’t know wether to laugh or cry but knew you were done. Done with the lies, the gaslighting, the constant feeling of walking on eggshells, all of it. You were no longer able to react to him and his antics. So now, you’re doing what you should have done years ago, breaking it off.

“Stop fucking with me.” He says with a half serious half humored tone. “You don’t want to leave me.” When he looked to see if you had reacted, he was met with the same icy look as before which made him straighten himself up. “You can’t. You have no where to go and no one to go to. Unless you have money to pack up your shit and leave my place, you’re stuck with me.” He says with a shit faced smirk. It quickly faded though once you started to pickup your purse and stand up from your seat. He didn’t like this.

“Then I’ll leave.”

He froze. You? Leave him? What the fuck was going on? The indifference wasn’t something he was used to. He would never admit it but he loved getting reactions out of you. Whether its distress, anger, sadness or even hatred, it gave him a thrill. He never imagined you pulling the plug and completely checking out of the relationship. You were supposed to be the submissive type. The type that was just happy to be there and not speak up, not this. This was not a part of the plan. THIS was not how he was about to be dumped.

“Really? You’re leaving me over some stupid fucking joke?” He says as he slams his hands on the table, making several people turn around. You don’t know what came over you but you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you looked over your shoulder and sighed. Your facial expression made him shudder and angered him at the same time. It wasn’t one of sadness or anger, it was one of pity and regret and he couldn’t handle being pitied.

“I’ll find a ride home and by the time you get back, me and my stuff will be gone.” You say while leaving the table. “Like hell it will be, Y/N. sit back down and talk to me!” He says through gritted teeth as he suddenly grabs your arm and snatches you backwards, almost causing you to fall. “Who the fuck do you think you a-“

As if something came over you, you instinctively swung around and threw a punch. It must of landed because you suddenly felt your arm being freed. As your right fist connected to the left side of his jaw, a pop could be heard across the restaurant which made everyone gasp and stand up. His face started to twist as the realization hits him that you damn near knocked him out and that you were never weak, just unwilling to stoop to his violent level.

Before he could get up, you were gone and security stepped in to remove him. You quickly left and as he was being detained, you could hear him screeching in the background insults and “you will be back, you always come back!” over and over again. You don’t stop though, you just hurry and try to make it back before he does.

It’s been almost two hours since and you’re almost fully packed. Memories good and bad flood your mind as you pick up the remains bags of the floor. You do one last look around before You quickly grab your bags, and start heading out the back. Your phone has been ringing off the hook since you left and you weren’t planning on giving him the time of day. You were tired of it all and the last thing you needed was to be manipulated into staying once again. This was it. This was the last time.

As you walk out the door, you spot a picture frame with the first photo you both took together years prior. You shake any thoughts of staying out of your head and proceed to close the door behind you. This was your fresh start and the beginning to a new and amazing life. Little did you know that your absence will be the beginning of the end for Sanemi.

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

as much as i despise john house tbh i wish we'd gotten more episodes with him . . . partly for more of that sweet sweet Daddy Issues content but also. because there are so few scenes with this man i have to do so much fucking guesswork when writing him

[dangerpronebuddie]

Would love to see you finish Slight Air and Purging Fire or any of your BTHB fics! I'm setting up a fence between you and any new ideas :-P

Honestly me too honey lol. Unfortunately, I have no control over the Beans™ and they're tearing down that fence as we speak. Slight Air and Purging Fire has been on hold for a While™ (and I hate that 😭) but I am slowly making progress on my BTHB fics! I even have a small little snippet from Verbal Abuse for you, just because:

“I always worry about you, Eddie,” she says, completely oblivious- or maybe not- to Eddie's lingering anger. He doesn't take the bait. All he wants is to get Chris and go home. “How’s he been?” Buck asks, trying to break the tension in the room. “Just fine,” Ramon says with a half smile. “Yourselves?” His father at least has the decency to phrase it like he cares. At this point, Eddie's not sure anymore. He and his dad had been getting better. And yes, he was the mediator- alongside Buck- ever since Chris left, but he didn't try to stop it happening either. “Christopher said you're seeing a therapist again,” Helena says, her mouth a thin line. Eddie never bothered telling her about therapy. She doesn't believe it helps. “Yeah,” Eddie nods. “Have been for months.” “Pity you didn't start before you traumatized your son into running away,” she says, casual as anything.

What fic do you wish I'd write? (Or finish lol)

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Price

Chapter 5 - Learning It The Hard Way

Summary: Set during RttE, based on the episode "Gold Rush." The entire point was for Hiccup to get Berk's Gold back. Well, he's far from his goal now.

Warnings: Verbal Abuse, Blood, Injury

Rating: Explicit

Dead Dove: Yes

Words: 2 087

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo, Ryker, Dragon Hunters

Pairing: Vigcup, Rycup

Author's Notes: Well! Went from having enough parts of this fic done to having a definitive chapter count AND also the sequel already in the works. Because otherwise this fic would just go on for forever, so I've decided to cut this fic at a certain point only to pick it up in the sequel.

Can't wait for Sunday's update! I hope you guys are just as excited as I am! ;)

Enjoy!

[oozebrain]

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter summary: You and Arthur come up with a scheme and it involves having dinner at his house.

Chapter warnings: angst, child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother). Things start to get darker this chapter but there will be wholesome moments to come later. Minors dni.

Chapter 2

Arthur and his mom had been living across the way for a few weeks now, and while you rarely saw him in person, you had been chattering for hours every day at bedtime. In your room was a whiteboard, stained with streaks of color from countless uses. It was an amusing game between the two of you; you would write your statement and he would act out his response through gestures. It was a fun game of charades that had bonded you two quite close over the past weeks. You’d learned over time he liked insects, theater. taxidermy, painting, puzzles, and that he preferred to be called Art.

Something that Art was the most curious about was school. He was home schooled by his mother and it appeared he was taught very different subjects. In the brief times you saw him in person, he would enthusiastically listen as you talked about your day at school, always wanting to know more and more. He wanted to know everything, he’d even rummaged around inside your book bag. You allowed him to keep one of your Biology textbooks; he was so enamored with he’d asked to keep it, and naturally you obliged.

Today was a special day, a day you two had been planning for a week now. Your mother was gone out of town over the weekend to visit with a friend. She’d left you with twenty dollars, a list of numbers to call, and a pasta salad in the fridge. She wasn’t around, which meant she couldn’t tell you who you could hang out with or where you could be. It was the perfect day for it.

On cue, Art waved at you from his window and you reciprocated with an enthusiastic wave back. He eyed you carefully, miming a calendar in the air and pointing at the imaginary date. You nodded in understanding. Today was the day.

Once Art departs you turn as well and leave your room, scampering to the kitchen to collect the bowl of noodles. It’s from a box, full of preservatives, loaded with sodium, and absolutely delicious. It was sure to be a hit.

You exit the house and head across the lawn. You do not head up the stairs but instead wait on the sidewalk in front of the house. After a moment, Art emerges. His smile is broad and wide, showing off his teeth as he greets you from the door. His eyes light up and he quickly heads down the stairs to close the distance.

“Wow you seem taller, I’m jealous. Move over a little and block out the sun for me.” You smile up at him and he voicelessly giggles, suspending his arms in the air and hovering over you, shading you like a tree. He then lowers his arms and motions to the glass bowl in your hands.

“It’s ranch and bacon rotini salad.” You answer and he pats his stomach in response. He approves. You can tell he’s nervous; his hands are trembling. He is doing his best to still them and tucks them inside his pockets to hide his nervousness. You give him a small pat on his arm, reassuring him things would be okay.

He isn’t wearing his hat today and you see the various patterns in the side of his head. His hair is buzzed short but the bald patches are still pronounced, along with the lack of eyebrows. It was uncommon to see him without some type of covering to hide his alopecia, and it made you feel trusted he was starting to become more comfortable with you.

“You think she’ll actually let me in this time?” You ask him with raised eyebrows as the pair of you headed towards the house. He hesitated, his face uncertain before he shrugged and thudded his chest with his fist, indicating he would handle it.

His mother was already waiting behind the screen door, her arms folded before she opened it halfway. She stared down at you, her expression difficult to read. She looked almost startled to see you standing on the porch with her son. Perhaps she thought she’d gotten rid of you.

“Hi, um... Art invited me over for dinner, I brought some pasta salad.” You hold the bowl out to her. She accepts it with hesitation and sets it off on a side table. She wipes her hands on her apron before resting them in front of her. Her demeanor was forced and stiff as she spoke.

“I don’t think tonight is the best night for it. Arthur has a lot of chores he needs to catch up on.” 

Art frantically pointed at her, shaking his head ‘no’, eyebrows furrowed. He wordlessly huffed and made a miming motion of sweeping, scrubbing the floor, and penciling his homework. He’d done all his chores, and you could confirm this because you’d helped him with his homework last night. Art looked up at her, a wide smile suddenly appearing on his face. He batted his eyelashes at her and she couldn’t help but give a small chuckle. Her demeanor softened and she became pensive. 

You didn’t meet her gaze but could feel her staring at you while she thought. You were uncertain how his mother felt about you. She was particularly secretive about herself and her son, especially letting people inside her home. From the cracked door you can see inside, dark wood floors with an elegant green carpet. The living room furnished with a matching green sofa, a fireplace, and an elk’s head hanging over it. Affixed to the wall were several crucifixes that extended out of sight beyond the door.

She cleared her throat, indicating she noticed you snooping and you looked to her as you tried to hide your guilt. She pursed her lips before saying, “You can stay for dinner.”

Art clapped beside you, bouncing slightly in place with a wide, open mouth smile. He was elated. You held the same enthusiasm but under his mother’s scrutiny you felt apprehension. You had little time to think as Art was pulling on your sleeve and tugging you inside. He pushed past his mother and you awkwardly did the same, muttering a small apology as you passed.

You had never been inside Art’s home before and tried to keep your gawking private. There was a large collection of snowglobes from various cities on the mantle and pictures of Art and his mother. You noticed an absence of a father, and some pictures had been ripped or cut to remove a figure, but a masculine hand remained in frame. On the door frame leading into the bathroom, you noticed scratch marks too high to have been made by an animal. They were deep and jagged and looked like they had been made with human nails. This made you uncomfortable but you said nothing as you followed Art to the kitchen.

The kitchen held a myriad of smells. There was a crockpot going on the counter that smelled richly of beef and carrots, and from the oven you could smell bread. A lot of your meals were frozen or prepackaged, and the smell of home cooking made your stomach grumble. Art smiles at this and holds up a finger, indicating it would not be much longer until dinner was ready.

His mother wordlessly enters the kitchen and resumes her duties. She checks the oven then meanders over to the crockpot. She doesn’t say anything but you can feel her watching you and Art out of the corner of your eye. It’s awkward and disconcerting; Art can feel it too. He takes you back into the living room, just around the corner so you two can have some privacy.

Art looks at you, his expression a nervous grimace as he glances back to the kitchen then to you. He was worried this wouldn’t work, as were you. You’re both anxious to face the unknown, but it’s something that must be done. You muster your courage and offer him a reassuring smile. He returns it half heartedly before the same grimace rests on his features once more.

You hold out your hand, pinky extended. He stares at it a moment before wrapping his pinky around yours then looks to you, searching your face. It was a silent way to say ‘I’m with you’ and assure him he wasn’t facing this alone. He let out a wavering breath and his features softened.

‘You got this’ you mouth to him voicelessly and after a moment he nods in self assurance. He looks back to you, determination in his eyes. He nods again as he tries to psych himself up before walking back into the kitchen, his pinky losening from yours before he enters his mother’s sight.

She is arranging the plates on the table and looks to the two of you. With disinterest she says, “Dinner’s ready.”

Your plate is different, and you notice the portions are smaller, but you say nothing. You worry you are intruding but you weren’t really here to have dinner, you were here to support Art.

The three of you take your seats, her at the head of the table and you and Art on opposite sides of one another. Looking down at your plate you take in the sight of the spread before you. Roast beef, carrots, potatoes, and homemade sourdough to go along with it. Your pasta salad remained in the living room, but bringing it up seemed awkward. Regardless, what lay before you looked and smelled delicious, but you realized no one was eating yet.

His mother is watching you and you set your fork down. She then folds her hands in prayer and you do the same. Art folds his hands in his lap, looking down at the ground. You feel him gently kick your shin and you reciprocate by stepping on his foot. You remain this way, a means to silently reassure him of your presence as his mother said grace.

Once she was finished she placed a napkin in her lap. With a tight smile she glanced at you, “Eat up while it’s still hot.”

You begin eating. The roast is succulent and tender and you find yourself eating faster than normal. After several bites you look up to see Art has not changed position, he continues to stare at the floor and not touched his food. After a moment he finally looks up and stares at his mother until he has her attention.

“What is it, Arthur?” She asks, both curious and aggrivated. He muttered wordlessly before making the outline of a building with his hands. He made the same motion earlier of writing in a notebook, carried a pretend backpack, and held his plate like a lunch tray. Art stared at her with a deep yearning in his eyes for what he was excitedly miming. 

Nothing happened. The only sound was that of the clock ticking on the wall. You said nothing but kept looking between the mother and son as a stare down began between them. Art then wordlessly mouthed the word ‘school’, his fists clenched in determination.

“School? Sweetheart you’re already in school. You know you can’t go to regular school.” She gently stroked his cheek and he stared ahead, nostrils visibly flaring at her response. He slammed his fist on the table and pulled away from her, doing what he could to express how upset he was. You said nothing. You didn’t really know what to say, not yet.

“We’ve been over this before. I thought we were past this... Is that why you invited them over?” She looked to you questioningly, “Did you put him up to this?”

The absurdity of the question should be funny, but she’s serious. Her gaze is sharp and intense as it cuts through you. You push around the carrots on your plate for something to divert your attention. You can feel your heart begin to race. You knew confrontation was coming with this scheme but you didn’t expect to feel genuine fear.

“You put him up to this, didn’t you? You’ve been filling his head with all kinds of stories.”

“No ma’am...” You start, clearing your throat to still the nervous jitters, “I’m a student at the nearby middle school and they have an art program that I’m in that I think Art would love. I... I’m sure you’ve seen how talented he is…”

She sighs and rests her head in her hand in a ‘not this again’ gesture. Art had mentioned before how much his mother hated his desire to be an artist and his love for theatrics. She was waiting for him to outgrow it but he never did. If anything, his love for theater had increased over the years. She holds this pose for a dramatic moment before looking at Art with a tear in her eye, “Am I not good enough for you? Is that what this is about?”

He scooted away from her and eyed her warily, glancing over to you. He was saying something; he was trying to warn you. You grip your fork as she starts sniveling and dabs her eyes with a napkin, her mascara and eyeliner bleeding onto the white linen. You didn’t understand why she was crying, or what she was even upset about to begin with. You and Art exchange uncomfortable glances.

“So you just think you can use me for thirteen years and toss me to the side? Is that it?” She got close to his face, raising her voice, “Answer me Arthur! Is that what it is?!”

It was her turn to slam her fist down, and she did so hard that his water glass toppled over and spilled across the table. She ignored it, her gaze was entirely fixated on Art. He visibly gulped, his eyes wide as the gears in his head were turning. She looked furious, disgusted, betrayed. She didn’t look at him as her son, but as something else. Her reaction was... weird. Something about it made you deeply uncomfortable. It didn’t sit right.

“You’re going to leave me just like your father... You’re just like him... I’ve tried so hard and you’ve become just like him, so callous and cruel...” She gasped in a sob and turned away from him, pushing him roughly to distance herself further. With trembling hands, he rested his hand on her shoulder, awkwardly patting her. Though his motions were kind his eyes were distant. There was a look on his face you’d never seen someone have before and you didn’t know how to place it.

It was dreadful, apprehensive, resentful. It was an amalgamation of every wretched emotion you could think of. Simultaneously, his gaze was unfixed and blank as he stared straight ahead in silence, his motions mechanical. You understood this was a common practice and for a moment she was placated. Then in an instant she turned on you.

“I know this was all you! You’re the one who’s putting ideas in his head! YOU are the one trying to take him away from me! He’s known you three weeks and I’ve known him his entire life, and I will not stand by and have you take him away from me!”

You flounder. What are you supposed to say? What could you say to that? In a way, yes, that is what was going on, but Art needed some freedom. He couldn’t stay cooped up in the house with his mother, enduring her games until she finally died. That’s what you were afraid of for him. You sputter out, “I-I’m not I... I’m sorry I didn’t mean... that’s not what’s going on here!”

“Excuse me? Is that back talk I hear? Didn’t your mother teach you to have more respect than that?” She is exasperated, eyes wide with a manic rage. She raised her hand to backhand you and instinctively you cover your face, closing your eyes. You hear a visceral smack but no impact comes. Hesitantly, you lower your guard and peek from behind your hands. Art had stepped between the pair of you and took the hard smack to the face that was meant for you. He stabilizes and his mother is taken aback by his action, and seemingly as well as her own.

She stands there, jaw firm as she rests her hand on his shoulder. It isn’t a kind gesture, it is one of dominance and control. She is taller and stronger than him and she is asserting that in a silent, determined motion. You can tell by his stiff demeanor her grip is like a vice.

“So that’s how it is.” She scoffed and nodded, jaw clenched in anger as she exhaled hard through her nose, “Fine. You can ‘go to school’, you can do whatever you want. I give up. If that’s the way you want to play it then fine! But you’ll see that I’m right. All they’re going to do is laugh at you.”

She observed him in silence before looking over to you, “I think it’s time for you to go home.”

Inwardly you agreed but you didn’t want to leave, you didn’t like the way she was holding his shoulder with her nails dug into his shirt. She was gripping so hard her hand was shaking, her whole body was, with some sort of outrage with seemingly no source. Then without warning she started crying again, as though she’d suddenly become aware of her terrible deeds.

Her grip went slack and she wrapped her arms around Art, shushing and cooing at him as she stroked the red place on his cheek where she had hit him, “Mommy’s so sorry, Arthur. You know I just want the best for you. You know how much I worry about you…”

She is rocking with him slightly as she tries to soothe him. She then looks to you over his shoulder and tearfully adds, “I’m sorry dear, please see yourself out and get home safe.”

With hesitation, you turn to leave, the sound of his mother’s hushed whispers and sobs trailing after and following you out the door. You stand on the porch a moment and listen to the crickets and katydids chirp and chatter. Though your and Art’s plan had ended successfully, the entire exchange left you feeling anxious and queasy. 

As you walk back to your house you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at the neighboring one. It was eerily silent and the lights had been turned out. You came to a stop and waited, observing the house as the streetlights came on. Art’s house had been swallowed in a darkness that even the bright, orange glow of the streetlights couldn’t penetrate.

Were they just sitting over there in darkness? Something wasn’t right. The house and interactions between he and his mother were strange, weird, and sort of creepy. There was something bad going on in that house, and now that Art would be joining you in school, you were going to find out.

[shiningstarr15]

FINALLY got chapter 5 done.

IMPORTANT CHAPTER. Has implications that are important the rest of the act (and overall story really)

More angst, but also hurt/comfort.

They’re a mess, but I love them 🫶

[diazheartsbuckley]

no matter how bad the storm (5k)

The anger is burning deep in Eddie’s chest and he feels an overwhelming sense of frustration welling up, threatening to break his otherwise relatively calm and collected behavior. “I’ve got my ID and badge in my right pocket. Is it okay if I reach for it?” Eddie questions and lifts up his hands to show that they’re empty before he slowly makes a move to reach for his wallet and badge. Atkins takes a quick step backwards and Eddie swears that he sees a flash of anxiety on Atkins’ face despite the fact that he’s the one with a deadly weapon.

[read on ao3]

For @badthingshappenbingo

[devintrinidad]

Typical tsundere who has a crush on someone who is cute and adorable and ticks off all the boxes that would make any tsundere happy. Typical tsundere who could feel their knees go wobbly, their stomach full with butterflies, who would stare at their crush from afar. Typical tsundere who has too many feelings that are so powerful and alien, that make them feel strange and make them act in in characteristic ways to their crush.

Typical tsundere who is just so mean and abrasive and can never get their true feelings out. Typical tsundere who doesn’t understand it when their crush looks so sad or angry to see them in the same room. Typical tsundere who gets frustrated when their crush starts to avoid them or gets downright nasty when they see the tsundere. Typical tsundere who loves and cherishes their crush, but never gets it right, who doesn’t understand when their crush tells them that they’re mean and a bully and to leave them alone.

Typical tsundere who finally confesses because they realize that the way they have been acting is wrong and that if they truly liked their crush they would have been honest about their feelings from the start or at the very least would have respected their crush by being civil. Typical tsundere who gets their feelings completely obliterated when their crush doesn’t accept their confession and instead gets told off for their behavior.

Typical tsundere who breaks down in tears because they were honest for once! They let out their true feelings! Shouldn’t their crush be happy that they were confessed too? Shouldn’t their crush be thankful that they had changed just for them?

Typical tsundere who has a broken heart, but that heart still has so many feelings for their crush that they can’t deal with. That they don’t want to spend time trying to parse or comprehend.

No, the tsundere wants to be loved because they did all the hard for their crush.

They must have their crush at all costs.

The typical tsundere becomes the yandere and they will do anything to get their crush back whether it be completely changing their personality altogether or ultimately becoming the monster that their crush sees them as.

The typical tsundere never learned, only evolved.

[dr-abitat-blog]

Day 16: "You always make everything worse!" (Alt. prompt)

@ailesswhumptober

T/W: Mental health, couple argument, hurt/attempted comfort, heated emotions, verbal abuse

Lyall and Faline once again belong to the beautiful and talented @whumpsmith. This is essentially a direct sequel to her AWESOME Day 10 prompt (pushing away a loved one) so do check if you can! :D Also Lyall x Achilles (Lachilles) for the win~

“Lyall?”

I wait anxiously outside the door to his hospital room, rapping out a faint tune on the door to get his attention. He’ll probably just ignore it if he’s in one of his moods — and given the state Faline was in when she came running out of his room, I’m pretty sure we might be in for a storm. Seriously, I’ve never seen her look like that before. Those tears running down her cheeks, shaking her head and trying so hard to pretend she was fine. That’s our homegirl — but after pressing her several times, she finally broke down to me and told me exactly what he’d said.

“You’re kidding. Lyall—Lyall would never say that! I mean, I guess he can be a bit of a jerk at times but he can’t help it—”

“N-no, Al,” she’d murmured, unsuccessfully forcing the wavers out of her voice, “This was different. Trust me, something’s definitely wrong. He won’t see that he needs help — y-you need to talk to him!”

I can still hear her ever so faintly from over here, unable to hold back her hurt sobs. He’s had a full ten minutes to calm down. That’s plenty of time.

Or it should be.

About half a minute goes by with no response. Gritting my teeth, I knock again, louder this time.

“Lyall, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk. Come on, open the door. Please?”

…nope. Nothing. The door still doesn’t open. Naturally, my frustration starts to increase as I pound my fist against it. “March Hare, open this door, or I swear I’ll—”

My threat is cut off by the creaking of the door. I barely wait before pushing it open. Standing on the other side is my boyfriend, Lyall Lapin — or March Hare, as his sidekick name goes. His powers are super impressive — pun totally not intended — allowing him to make earthquakes and manipulate earth. Definitely more impressive than my own healing flashy light-show of essence, but we are making progress to—

“What?”

The thought instantly cuts off as I notice the expression on his face — glaring.

Oh crap. He does not look happy.

“Hey, uh, thanks for opening up,” I start casually, biting my tongue to keep from asking immediately about his ‘visit’ with Faline. “I just wanted to check up on you, that’s all. See if you were okay—”

“I’m fine.”

He gives his arm — the one not all bandaged up in a plaster cast — a dismissive wave. I can’t help but let my eyes narrow into a suspicious squint.

“No, you’re not ‘fine’ — and that’s okay. You’ve been through a—”

“Well what do you think?” he snaps, “I’ve broken my arm, my best friend probably hates me right now and even though I was the one who saved everyone back there from Hatter and the jabberwocky I’m the one being treated like the bad guy!”

I stay quiet, allowing him to vent his feelings. It’s a lot to process — and yeah, I am maybe a little biased on my boyfriend’s side, but I can’t ignore the fact that he did endanger himself — and the rest of us. He directly disobeyed Cap’s orders and went on ahead to try and save us, including me, from Hatter. The other sidekicks managed to find and help him, but apparently the whole time he was rude and abusive to all of them, including my brother. That’s…not like my Lyall. Something is going on.

And I’m not leaving until I find out what it is.

“...I know,” I agree quietly, “It sucks, dude. It really sucks.”

“I know, right?! They should all be thanking me! If I hadn’t been there then none of them would have stood a chance — I’m the best hero there is on the force and they know it!”

“Yeah, yeah you are,” I respond, “You were brave tonight. You saved us — you saved me. You were definitely determined — even if what you did was a little reckless but—”

“Oh don’t you start too.”

He rolls his eyes with a small scowl that doesn’t belong on his face. “I thought you were on my side!”

“I am!” I insist, holding up my hands, “But that also means looking out for you—”

“I don’t need anyone to look out for me — including you.”

He grits his teeth, his cheeks flushing in anger. “I’m not fucking fragile.”

“I didn’t say you were! I was just saying—”

“Well don’t.”

Our eyes lock. My own green irises widen as his brown ones stare into mine. I almost shudder from the cold fury being sent my way. “You always have to do it, don’t you, Achilles? Butting in, poking your nose into my business, treating me like I’m made of glass, being so overprotective all the time!”

Over…protective?

“I just don’t want you to get hurt! And I’m worried about you! We all are! You’re not acting like yourself right—”

“I’m perfectly clear, thanks!” he snaps, “I don’t need anyone telling me how I ‘should’ behave, like I’m expected to be smiling and happy twenty-four-seven! And that includes you and your overprotectiveness!”

“Lyall, I don’t mean to—”

“Well you do — you always do! It’s not ‘cute’ or ‘romantic’ — it’s degrading and it makes me sick. I’ve told you so many times how I feel about that, but you still don’t listen to me! Do you have that little faith in me?!”

He’s yelling now — properly yelling. Each word is like a knife twisting at my heart. The truth is painful. I am overprotective — and we have talked about it before, but I just can’t let go of the fear of losing him, o-or something happening or—

“And before you go off being so high and mighty, let’s not forget that I was the one who saved you. You were the one that got yourself kidnapped by Hatter! That wouldn’t have happened if it had been me!” 

My stomach aches as if I’ve taken a punch to it. I notice him clenching his fists, staring at me down his nose. Like he’s…superior. Like I’m nothing compared to him. “So stop getting in my way and telling me what to do and what not to do because I’m sick to fucking death of it!” 

My feet remain frozen in place. I feel the colour leaving my freckled face as he continues shouting at me. A weird mix of feelings runs through my head. Guilt. Helplessness…anger.

“You want me to apologise? Fine. I’m sorry that I can’t let go of that image of you almost dead on a hospital bed last year whilst I screamed your name a dozen times,” I snap, “and I’m sorry that whenever we face danger my biggest fear is always losing the people who mean the most to me — which includes you!”

I grit my teeth tightly. Warning prickles spread through my hands. 

No, stay down. Breathe. Easy. Breathe—

“Oh look, you’re at it again!”

I stare at him.

“At what?”

“Throwing around your excuses again!” he hisses, “You can’t use past trauma as a get-out-of-jail-free card every time you screw up, Achilles!”

The anger slowly fades from my eyes.

Screw up…

“You…you think I’m a screw up?” I ask, the conviction leaving my voice slightly.

“Lately, yes!” he responds fiercely, “You think you’re being ‘heroic’ or ‘romantic’ and making things better but you’re not! You always make everything worse!” 

Everything…worse…

For a moment, time seems to stand still. It’s just the two of us standing there, except I don’t know who I am. Standing across from him, frozen, mouth gaping slightly. No words come out. Something hot stings at my eyes. I feel like I’m going to be physically sick. Heat rushes to my face as he clenches his teeth, continuing to glare at me. Right now, this second, his expression is almost like...hatred.

“You always make everything worse.”

The echoes of Lyall’s voice are joined by another horribly familiar one — his voice.

No, n-no—

“It’s your fault, A.9.R. You did this.”

The tears start to slip free. I hiss as the prickles start scorching my hands. My fingers tremble. I can’t steady my breathing—

“You did this.”

That’s the last straw. I don’t even remember leaving his room, or the expression on his face. All I’m aware of are the tears seeping down my cheeks, the pain rippling through me and the burning release of the essence as I let it go. Multiple things get displaced in the bathroom, but I don’t care. I just drop to my knees over the toilet bowl, heaving and sobbing for god knows how long until Faline and Ash finally find me. Without a word, they hug me. I try to pull away, but in the end I just sink into their arms, muffling my sobs in my brother’s shirt. Eventually, Faline speaks up, rubbing my back.

“Achilles…wh-what did he say to you?”

“H-he said…a lot of things,” I answer slowly, “and that I…a-always make everything worse…”

“H-he said that? Lyall said that — to you?”

I don’t know why my brother seems so surprised. Apparently Lyall was yelling at him too during the rescue mission. I can’t confirm it with words, only my head. Ash just tightens his hold on me. “D-don’t listen to him. He’s just…overwhelmed right now. He said some heated things in the moment, I’m sure with some space he’ll—”

“I-I’m not so sure about that, Ash.”

Faline gently shakes her head, a troubled look in her eyes. “All I know is…th-this isn’t our Lyall.”

No. It’s not.

I draw in a shaky breath, blinking back further tears. 

And I don’t know if we’re ever getting him back…