#herself. her self loathing about her race and appearance is INTENSE. this part of her personality isjust so apparent akjdjdlksdf

[sn4kebites]

why is everyone so surprised about doja cats personality sucking so bad she literally got caught being self-hating and racist multiple times in her career skdkdfkkjsdkfd

[violetjedisylveon]

Sick And Broken Pt. 1 - Diseased

Summary: I don't even know how to summarize this other than just Freyu has a mental breakdown (and Cid totally doesn't care about the batch more than she has to for buisness, totally.) So yeah.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Trauma, mentions of blood, vomiting, ptsd, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self hate, self loathing, unintentional self harm. This chapter is intense, especially at the beginning, if you are triggered or uncomfortable with any of the warnings above, please do what makes you comfortable, I understand if you don't want to read because of that.

A/N: it's a mental breakdown *kazoo*. That's pretty much the chapter. Big mental breakdown. The trauma/ptsd reactions in this chapter(and future chapters dealing with ptsd and trauma) are based on the behaviors and reactions I noticed in my friend when her ptsd was triggered, she didn't talk, was visibly upset, she couldn't sleep and she wasn't eating, I've also done more research into ptsd and what comes with it. The self loathing/hating bits are based on me, no further comment.

Amnesia link here. Arm's Length (art) here

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The Havoc Marauder flew through the blue void of hyperspace. Inside the ship, the stench of blood had a powerful presence.

Omega peeked out from the cockpit to see how Freyu was doing. She wasn't good.

Freyu had her back pressed against the wall. Her chest hurt, her heart was racing- skipping beats- she couldn't breath, she felt like the air was being sucked out of her.

It must be the helmet. She determined, throwing it off, gulping for air. Blood splattered on the ground from where her helmet rolled.

She grabbed her head and covered her ear, screaming. When she pulled them back, bloody handprints were left behind. She stared with wide, shocked eyes at the blood, her whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Freyu's face went a sickly pale blue, she didn't even have the time to move before she vomited.

She threw up all the contents of her stomach and then the bile and stomach acids that were left. The highly acidic substance fizzled on the floor and started melting through the weakest parts.

By the time she stopped, she was on the floor with her shaking arms barely holding her up. She was still dry heaving.

"Is she- uh, that's... that's a big mess." Wrecker commented.

Omega glanced up at him, he was probably the messiest besides Freyu, the blood on him was still wet. She looked back to the Pantoran, her face was still pale and she looked terrified. Wrecker's sudden appearance had caught her attention.

She glanced over at them, her eyes widdening further when she saw the blood that had splattered onto them. She dry heaved again at the sight.

Omega turned to her brothers for help, they were all listening from their seats, trying their best to ignore the situation. Unknown to her they were reminded of some, rather unpleasant times. It was Wrecker who broke the silence.

"Should we talk to her about it?" He asked.

"I, don't think she's in a talkative mood." Hunter said slowly.

"She probably won't want to either." Echo added in, Tech nodded in agreement.

Omega had gone back to watching Freyu, she had her knees pulled to her chest and her head tucked down, she was frantically whispering to herself.

Echo elbowed Hunter and gestured towards Omega, the young clone clearly worried over her friens, while giving the ex-sergeant a hard stare. Hunted nodded and made his way over to kneel by her.

"Are you," He paused, wondering how to phrase his next words. "Still seeing things?"

Omega shook her head 'no'. Hunter turned her to face him, blood had gotten onto her face and hair. It was startling, even if he knew it wasn't hers.

"Let's get you cleaned up, kid." He told her, raising to his feet and placing a hand on her shoulder to guide her to the fresher.

She didn't budge.

"Can I try talking to her?" She requested, turning her pleading eyes up to him.

He couldn't say no to her like this and she knew it. He gave her a small nod, she nodded back and stepped out of the cockpit.

"I'm not supposed to do that. I don't do that. I can't. I promised I wouldn't I'm not supposed to. I tried to be good. It's bad. Feels good then terrible, never again. I tried. I shouldn't. I don't. Not anymore. I shouldn't. It's bad. It's very very bad. I'm not supposed to. I have to stop it. I tried. I was good. I tried. I tried to stop. I tried. I shouldn't do that. I didn't want to. Felt good, I feel terrible. I tried. I tried. I tried. I tried. I tried." Freyu whispered, her whole body was heaving with the struggle to breath.

"Freyu?" Omega asked.

She didn't respond, she just kept whispering and shaking.

Omega got onto her knees in front of Freyu and waved her hand in front of her face. Nothing. She gently prodded Freyu's shoulder.

With the way Freyu reacted, you'd think someone had stabbed her.

She lurched away from Omega, something broke in the ship again. Freyu's chest heaved with her panicked breathing. She felt trapped, everything was too close to her. Omega was too close. Wait, what was... No.

There was blood on Omega.

There should not be blood on her! Why is there blood on her?!

You. That's why. You fucked up again. You did it again! You know you aren't supposed to but you did anyway! You did bad! You are bad! Freyu grabbed her head as it started screaming at her.

Omega reached out to her friend, but before any contact was made Freyu lurched back like Omega was attacking her.

"Stay away from me!" She hissed.

Omega flinched at the anger in her voice. Freyu's never been angry at me. Something really bad must've happened.

"Are you okay?" She thought it was an easy enough question. It didn't go like she'd hoped.

Freyu just stared at her like she'd asked something obviously impossible.

"No."

"Freyu, what hap-" Omega broke off as Freyu jumped back when she came closer, one arm extended to ward her off, the other feeling for the wall behind her.

"Don't ask that. Don't you ever ask that." Freyu snapped.

Omega stepped back away from the distressed Pantoran. Her gut told her there was danger in getting too close. Hunter chose now to intervene and he pulled Omega further away to give Freyu more breathing room.

Freyu started pacing back and forth in the space she was given, her body trembled with each seemingly painful breath she took in. She made the floor turned red with the blood dripping off of her. Nervous energy came off her in waves. Hunter watch her carefully as she started whispering again, it was coming out in a mix of Pantoran and Mando'a, he didn't understand most of it but he did pick up on one word, a curse word she used a lot. He glanced over his shoulder to see all his brothers watching as well.

"Any ideas?" He asked.

"She's mostly cursing at herself, repeating herself and muttering about bad dark, whatever that is. She's not making sense." Tech explained while pushing his goggles up.

"Well how do we make it stop?" Omega asked.

"I don't think this is something we can stop. I don't even think she can." Hunter said.

"Well, it's a panic attack so-"

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! You can't do anything right! Not a simple thing without fucking it up somehow! It's so easy and you fucked up again! You managed to kill more people this time you stupid fuck! He told you not too, he told you how to stop but no, you just had to fuck up seven years of work and now you're right back where you started!" Freyu shouted and punched the wall like it had insulted her.

She punched the wall until their was a sizable dent, shouting at herself the whole time. It was a scary impressive feat considering the dent formed after just two minutes. She stopped punching for a moment and pressed her head against the wall.

She could see her reflection in the metal wall, bloody hand prints on her head, blood that wasn't hers covering her. Her skin crawled and her body convulsed with another dry heave. She hated, hated it. She didn't want to see herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut and punched the spot she'd seen herself, her hands screamed at her.

"Freyu stop!" A hand grabbed her arm mid-punch and pulled her back.

Someone's attacking!

She whipped around, ready to punch the shit out of whoever was there. Another hand grabbed her other arm and stopped her from doing so.

"You are hurting yourself. You need to stop." The controlled, even voice said.

She took a moment to remember who's voice it was, and refocus on her surroundings. Her heart was pounding, chest heaving, it hurt.

Everything hurt.

Something vaguely ration and thinking finally caught up to her. There were other people with her. She wasn't alone at home and able to just lose it.

Even if he had been trying to help, the unwanted feeling of touch was too much, especially right now. She needed to keep control.

She looked the former clone sergeant in the eyes with as much control as she could get.

"Let go, please. Now." She tried to make it clear that she was not messing around.

To her surprise, Hunter let go without any fuss and backed up, giving her some breathing room. She eyed the gathered clones, they were all expressing varying levels of concern and worry. Omega was by far the most worried, Freyu hesitantly met her gaze to make sure she got the message.

"Omega. Stay. The. Fuck. Away from me." She ordered harshly.

Omega flinched and looked at her with a wounded expression. Freyu felt so awful for it, for making Omega scared of her, but she'd rather Omega be scared then dead.

"I don't want to hurt you." She added softly, looking down at her hands.

Her bloody, bloody hands. Hands that did so much damage. She hurt Jicelli, her vod'ika. Who hadn't wanted anything to do with her, she had been so terrified. Guilt and hate made her stomach churn, she stepped back to the wall to keep herself as far away as she could, for their sake.

Her legs were weak, she slumped back down, rubbing her arms with her sore hands.

"I hurt her! I hurt my sister! I d-didn't mean to, i-I swear! I didn't want to hurt her! I was trying to protect her! And I hurt her!" She buried her face in her hands, once again forgetting she was not alone.

The hate burned deep, it burned her, hurt her, the blood might as well have been acid with the sting she felt. She had to get it off. She composed herself, for a moment slipping on the trusty old mask of a cold, neutral expression. She got up and grabbed her helmet off the floor, she didn't look at it.

"Bye. Stay away." She said flatly.

She promptly left and made her way over to her own ship, trying to ignore the bloody trail she left in her wake.

The clones stared after the trail of blood. Hunter snapped out of it first, they had to get the place cleaned up and get back to Ord Mantell. Cid might have answers, she seemed to have known Freyu given the Trandoshan's reaction to first seeing the Pantoran.

"Echo, help Omega clean up, we'll wash everything in the fresher once she's done. Tech, Wrecker, help me clean the mess." Hunter ordered.

His brothers nodded and went about doing as he said. Echo lead Omega to the fresher, despite her worried protests. He grabbed some cleaning supplies and got to work cleaning the mess.

XXX

Freyu stumbled through the halls of her ship, trying not to get lost on her way. She turned a corner and froze.

C.N.O.

Chora's room.

Chora! It's all her fault!

She lashed out at the door, crushing it with a fierce anger.

"Ni'durra! (Mando'a, you disgust me) Or'parguur (Mando'a, I hate you) Chora!" She screamed at the door.

Pretending this is her will make me feel better!

A lie.

She knew it wouldn't, in a few minutes she'd feel awful about damaging her family's ship, but at the moment, it certainly did something.

When the initials painted onto the door were gone from her sight, she turned away from it and ran to the fresher with the urge to throw up again. She dry heaved into the toilet for five minutes.

Once she stopped, she sat back and leaned against the wall. Her throat burned. Her hands throbbed. Her head pounded against her skull. She grabbed her head and screamed for who knows how long.

She got in the fresher and turned the water on without changing. The warm water started washing the blood and sweat and vomit off her, she felt it soaking through her body suit. She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the water.

It felt good.

She leaned against the back of the fresher and slowly let herself slump to the floor. She avoided looking down at the water, she knew it was red.

Blood red.

Maker, she hated that color.

She hated seeing the lush orange grass flattened, broken, covered in blood, guts, and everything else inside a body when she closed her eyes. She hated everything she did, and was at this point.

She hated when everything came back to punch her in the gut and hold her in a mental headlock.

Blood red brought it all back.

Wash it off. Wash it off. Wash it off. Wash it all away. She told herself, scrubbing her hands in circles over her skull. A headache was coming on, she knew it'd be a bad one, the kind she'd usually sleep off but, ha, rest wasn't her friend unless she was knocked out cold, or stunned to sleep because of... actions that warranted such extreme methods.

I wish Alask or Naylaz were here... I wish Maatsu was here. Fuck, I need him!

She screamed again.

Open the door, he'll be there. He has to be.

He wasn't.

And he never would again.

Coruscant.

Temple.

Jedi.

Loud.

Pain.

Hurt.

Clones.

Maatsu's Clone Commanders.

Standing next to her.

Upset.

Jedi.

Little ones crying.

Missing him.

Everyone missing him.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

He's dead!

Dead. Dead. Dead.

She's dead!

Alone. My fault.

Alone. My fault.

Alone. My fault.

Alone. My fault!

She sat for what felt like days, knowing it was only an hour or so, maybe two. She carelessly took her armor and clothes off, leaving them in a pile in the corner.

She stayed there longer, letting the water wash everything it could away. It couldn't wash away any scars or the sick feeling inside of her. She scratched her arms and stomach, trying to rid herself of the awful, awful feelings, she knew where it would lead if she scratched too much though she didn't care at the moment.

She left the pile of clothes and armor in the corner, she didn't even bother to check for injuries, she just wanted out of where she could see everything. She didn't want to see reflections, she wanted it all to go away.

She blindly fumbled to her room and locked the door behind her. A quick change into something comfortable later and she was sitting on her bed, staring at a wall trying to block everything out with the weighted blanket she kept in there.

The shock was still there and numbing everything but her hate.

She stared blankly at the wall ahead of her.

Screaming. Rain. Mud. Fear.

Shots fired. Burning holes. Limp bodies. Lifeless eyes.

Fear. Grief. Fear. Betrayal. Fear. Anger. Fear. Numb. Fear. Dark. Fear. Screaming. Fear.

Red.

Fear.

Blood.

Silent tears fell down her face, she didn't bother wiping them away. Slowly, as the tears kept flowing, pouring through cracks in the fractured wall she tried to keep up, she finally let herself cry.

It sounded like a mix between screaming and crying, knowing herself it most defenately was, and Maker it was loud.

XXX

A muffled screaming cry could be heard throughout the ships. It was unsettling to say the least.

Hunter glanced in the direction of the pained sound, his enhanced hearing making it that much clearer. He sighed and sat down, staring at the monitors flashing in front of him.

Slowly, he went over the day's events in his mind.

The indirect revelation of Freyu's relation to Chora, and her intense reactions said something happened between them. It definitely wasn't good. The panicked ramble she'd gone on had revealed a few things, but most of it sounded meaningless. Tech will have a better grip on what she meant. He thought.

As if on cue, his brother tapped on his shoulder, the scent of caf followed.

"Staring at a screen like that isn't good for your eyes, you'll get a headache and that's the last thing we need at the moment." Tech told him bluntly.

He sighed and turned to Tech, his brother looked as tired as he felt. At least they were all clean now. Tech passed him one of two cups of caf he'd been holding.

"What's your take on this?" He asked.

"She needs help." Tech's cut and dry response echoed in the hollow ship.

"You could say that again." Hunter agreed.

"She needs to go to professional therapy." Tech said before taking a long sip from his mug.

"Good luck talking to her about it." Hunter chuckled mirthlessly.

There was no way Freyu would let any of them in, or help with something like that, especially not now.

His brother gave him an empty laugh. The two sat for a few minutes without saying a word.

"Knowing what we do now, some of her behaviors make more sense, traumatic experiences, especially when suffered at a young age, can stunt normal growth and maturity, but the interesting thing here is, it seems Freyu had to mature and become, or act, much older than she actually was, to support herself and sister. So she had to act grown up despite being developmentally stunted, well, further than she already is." Tech said, stirring his caf around.

Hunter shot him a confused look.

"What do you mean further than she already is, is something wrong with her?" He asked, forgetting what Tech had alluded to many times.

In his defense, Tech was always very vague about it.

"Clearly she has problems and issues, but what I was referring to is a naturally occurring mutation that has an equivalent in many species with similar effects to behavior and brain development, it usually causes a slowing of development because the brain is built different, we should all know that it's not actually something wrong, despite what some say." Tech shot him a pointed look as Echo walked in.

"Right, right, sorry." Hunter apologized.

He knew it was a touchy subject for Tech, the Kaminoans hadn't been kind to that sort of divergence from their standards. The regs hadn't been kind to him either.

"Back to what I was trying to say. Freyu's less guarded behaviors are more comparable to someone who's younger than actually her age, the person we see is an act. So, even though she's considered an adult by many due to her age, emotionally, behaviorally and mentally, she is still a child who is just acting and pretending to be an adult."

Echo nodded. Tech's logic made sense considering the darastic switches in behavior when dealing with one of them verses with Omega.

"So, does her drinking habits have anything to do with this?" Hunter asked.

"No, she's Pantoran and they are much better at differentiating between what's actually made by their body and what is from an outside source due to most, if not all their homeworld's plant life having mind alerting effects or being poisonous, the most alcohol will do is make a Pantoran giggling and distracted without much permanent or long term damage to their brain or body. So it's not as much a habit as it is a distraction when things get too intense. There are certain things from Pantora that will effect her more, but she's not going to hurt herself by using them." Tech answered quickly.

"How do you know all of this?" Hunter asked.

"It would have been irresponsible if I didn't do the proper research or take into account how she differs from humans when she started living around us." Tech turned to Echo, who so far had been quiet.

"Echo, you met her brother, what did he say about her?" Tech had his data pad ready.

"I didn't talk to him much, most of what I know is stuff I picked up from conversations between him and General Skywalker, and some clones who might've known her. I've only retained her name and a few odd facts. It was a while ago and you know, this happened." Echo gestured towards his scomp arm, "But he was very worried about her, he said something about not being away for very long." Echo shrugged.

"Hmm." Tech wrote down a quick note.

"Understandably, it seems she was dependent upon him. He was the only adult figure, that we know of, left in her life so it's to be expected. Must've been quite the shock when he died. And I assume that her sister is also dead since we didn't see her at all. It explains her protectiveness with Omega." Tech nodded to himself.

Echo and Hunter exchanged a concerned glance.

"What does that mean for all this?" Hunter wondered.

"It means we have a traumatized, neurologically divergent, Force sensitive who suffered at least three traumatic events in the span of four years who has been triggered and is going through another episode. She is still the sixteen year old who had the one stabilizing figure in her life ripped away from her unexpectedly. She's still a child, and a very scared, lonely and hurt one at that." Tech set his mug down.

"We should all remember that and we shouldn't expect more from her, I have a feeling there's not much 'more' she can give." (Aka, be nice to the traumatized fucked up burnt out person) He fixed his brothers with a stern look.

"So what do we do about her now?" Hunter asked.

"We wait and see, mental health is tricky subject, we need to learn what triggers a reaction and how to avoid the bad ones without asking her, like how we did with Echo. It will take time." Tech said.

Hunter nodded. Having something of a plan to tackle this situation gave him a sliver of comfort and reassurance that this could be handled.

XXX

The batch walked into Cid's parlor exhausted and ready for rest.

"Well look who's back from their sudden excursion!" Cid shouted from the bar counter.

She glanced around after not seeing any blue or bright red.

"Where's Blue?" She asked.

"In her room, we think." Bandana sighed.

Cid squinted, her nostrils flared, she caught a faint whiff of blood. Oh fuck.

"What happened?" She asked shrewdly.

"It's complicated to explain." Muscles said.

Cid's worries grew. She'd anticipated something happening with the way Blue was acting.

"Chora show up?" She guessed.

"You know her?"

Cid laughed coldly, "I've known all of them for a while."

Her gaze hardened and she gave the clones a dark look.

"And I have an idea about what happened." She added.

"She acted out of a state of extreme fear and anger, I see why the Jedi avoided such emotions as much as possible." Goggles said.

Cid nodded. Just like last time. She sighed.

"Blue was in fight, flight or freeze, cornered, scared and out of options. All that makes for a pretty extreme reaction. She hasn't been in a very stable mindset for a while, she lost control and just blindly lashed out at everything that was a threat. Her being in such a negative headspace beforehand is why it got so bad, and she ran into Chora, someone who doesn't evoke a positive response." Cid said while washing a cup.

"You talk about it like this isn't the first time you've heard of her doing this." Scomp said cautiously.

"It's not." Cid said vaugly.

"Who told you?" Bandana asked.

"Her brother. Needed to get a lot of his chest so he came to me. There wasn't any one else." Cid shrugged.

"Do you know how we can help her?" Tiny finally spoke up.

Cid stopped what she was doing and sighed. She knew kids liked to help, Tiny especially, this would be hard for her. And clones just could not sit still.

"There's nothing you can do right now other than leave her alone to let her process everything, and even when that's done, there won't be much you can do. She does not like talking about this, so don't push her when she comes out, you'll just push her back in." Cid told the gathered clones.

As she'd suspected, they all looked uncomfortable with doing nothing.

"Trust me, I know what to do." Cid tried to assure them she had it covered.

She went back to work. She knew they'd hang around for a while, maybe they'd get another shower or change their armor to properly clean it. She didn't really care what they did, so long as they left Blue alone for the time being.

One by one, the clones made their way out of her bar. Only Bandana and Tiny were left. Tiny wasn't acting normal, there was something on that kid's mind that was bothering her. Cid was worried about just what the kid saw, how much it would effect her, and how much Blue would blame herself for it. And she was pretty sure Tiny had been quietly crying.

Bandana stood up and held his hand out for Tiny, she looked at him with sleepy, bloodshot eyes.

"C'mon Omega, we should get to bed." He said.

"Hold on a second." Cid intervened, much to the clone's confusion.

"I want to have a talk with you." She said.

"What about? Is something wrong?" The clone was instantly worried.

"Look at her." Cid pointed at the sleepy kid slumping down by the bar.

She looked exhausted on more than a physical level. And she looked upset.

"She did say she was seeing things that didn't belong..." Bandana trailed off, then went from realisation to worry instantly.

"Omega was using a lightsaber like she knew exactly what to do with it. She was copying everything." He said in a hushed voice.

"Hmm." Cid frowned.

The couple of Jedi she had contact with didn't talk about their ways, Maatsu did. Hell, he would come down just to rant about something he found particularly interesting for hours. Wonder where those recordings are? She pushed the thought off for later. But the last time Maatsu had been by, the last time she'd seen that endearingly annoying kid, he'd given her a preemptive warning of sorts regarding his sister and what she did.

"Any of your generals have battle meditation?" She asked.

"No, didn't have a general, I've heard of it though, some sort of battle guide Jedi could do to direct a battle however they wanted." He gave her an absent shrug, glancing at Tiny with concern.

"Okay, that's kinda what this is, but that takes a lot of skill and a talent for it. I have heard of Jedi doing something that sounds a lot like what you've described, it's like the battle meditation but on a much smaller, easier scale with a deeper connection between those involved." Cid paused with a heavy sigh, a slight hesitation about revealing such private information.

If Blue had her way they'd never find out.

"Blue's always been good at making connections with others, it's something that comes naturally to her," the clone gave her a doubtful look, "Surprising, I know, but that's just what she does. The problem is, I think she accidentally made some connection with Tiny. So Tiny saw, probably felt, it all." Cid said.

Bandana looked mad, he didn't need to be. It was an accident and unintentional. Blue did not share willingly anymore. She could see thoughts racing in the human's head.

"Don't say anything to either of them, fill in your brothers later, but we don't know what actually happened, and we won't until Blue decides she wants to talk about it." Cid told him sternly.

She turned to Tiny, who'd fallen asleep while they were talking. Banada went over to the kid and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

"Leave her alone, try to forget what you saw. And if you try blaming her, or treating her like some dangerous wild animal, you will be seeing my ugly side for real." She warned.

Bandana's eyes widened, he tried to say something.

"I wouldn't have said anything if it hadn't happened before. It has and it is not pretty. She's already doing it to herself. The last thing we all need is to deal with more of that." She said before he had the chance to speak.

"You're very protective of her, how long have you known her?" He asked.

There was some genuine curiosity in his voice. For the longest time she'd thought he dismissed her simply as an informant and his boss, partly because that was what she wanted. She'd seen him and his brothers as an asset, not much more.

Until she saw the distress from Tiny going missing. It struck at her closely guarded soft spot and brought up some memories of old friends. She didn't think they'd noticed the extra credits yet, or how they always had fuel and their ship was always repaired. Little things went a long way.

"I've known her family long before she was born." She said.

The conversation was done and over, she decided. She went back to her office, to finish up her close for the night.

She spotted two sets of glowing eyes through the window in the alley behind her office. She left a specific box of rations on the outer edge of the window, knowing full well it'd be gone in a matter of minutes.

I know you won't take care of yourself Blue, take what I'm giving you. And take all the time you need.

XXX

Freyu hiccuped and coughed. She had her knees pulled against her chest and her hands between her legs to prevent herself from scratching.

The soft lights in the room flickered with every scream and sob.

She felt sick, she felt so sick, so awful inside. It was like a disease festering inside of her! It squirmed and attacked her.

She hated it! She wanted it to leave her! She wanted all the sickness and brokenness and hate inside of her to leave.

She wished all the feelings would just go away!

She didn't want to feel anything!

But she had to feel everything.

It all dragged her down to a terrible, dark, cold place.

________________________________________________________________________________

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond if you're interested.

Cid knew Freyu's family before the Clone Wars happened, so she's kinder/got a soft spot for the O'asisk family.

Cid does not call Freyu "Blue" because she is physically blue, it's a nickname she got as a kid for something she did a lot that she finds embarrassing now and only Cid is allowed to call her "Blue", anyone else is getting punched.

This has been done for a while, I've just put off posting it cause, I don't really know, it deals with a rough/sensitive subject so I was a little worried about that.

Trauma can stunt development, Childhood trauma does that too, so naturally, unguarded and relaxed, Freyu's behaviors are more like a sixteen year old cause that's just where she is mentally.

If anyone has any experience with trauma and would be comfortable offering help or tips in how to write it better, most of it is based on behaviors I observed in my friend Ann as mentioned above but I will gladly take more help!

I hope you all have a good day, whatever that is for you.

VJS out!

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 6,462 Sam x Reader Warnings: none really! A/N: Part 3 WOO! Hope you all enjoy. Much less intense than the last chapter. This is part of a series. Read Part 1 here and Part 2 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

You awoke gently to some sound nearby and blinked, your eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. “Hey.” Sam’s voice nearby, gentle and soft. He was at the hearth, adding logs to the coals in the fireplace, sparking new flames licking upward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. You looked cold, so…” You noticed then that he had covered you over with a quilt at some point.

You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “S’okay.” You sat up, adjusting the blanket over you. “Thanks,” you said. “Oof…” You held a hand to your head.

“You alright?” There was sweet concern on Sam’s face. That familiar wrinkle between his brows.

“Head. Hungover,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

“Ah… Yeah, I thought maybe that would be the case today.” He pointed to the end table. He had set out a big glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen for you, as well as a plate with some saltine crackers on it.

Sam hesitated for only a split second in surprise before his arms curled around you. He was almost breathless with you against him and he shut his eyes and focused on that feeling—of holding you, of peace, of exhilaration but ease at the same time, of belonging, or comfort. It somehow felt more intimate than anything he had ever done with your sister… He could smell your shampoo and the fabric softener on your clothes. He wondered if you had noticed how hard and fast his heart was pounding.

“Thank you,” you said again, not letting go, shutting your eyes and sinking everything you wished you could say and do into that hug.

“For what?”

At length you pulled back and met his eyes again, your gaze a little more bashful this time. “For last night at the bar. And for the thoughtful hangover cure and the quilt and the fire and just—” you were rapidly losing your nerve, “—for being you.”

Sam was speechless for a moment, his eyes trying to memorize the flecks of endless shades in your irises and the slightly tousled appearance of your hair. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that,” he said.

You gave him a crooked half-smile. “Yes, I do.” You climbed to your feet again, leaving him staring after you, still kneeling beside the fireplace, feeling a loss as the air settled back into the place you had been, heavy like a wave cresting over itself.

You sank back down onto the couch and grabbed the blanket again with a yawn. “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Sam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s about 5,” he said. He’d managed to get maybe an hour and a half of sleep split up with bouts of staring at the ceiling and self-loathing.

“Why are you up? Couldn’t sleep again?” you asked.

He shrugged vaguely. “Yeah, but it’s alright,” he said.

You frowned at him. “It’s really not. What’s going on? Do you want to talk about it?” you offered, grabbing a couple painkillers and swallowing them with a big gulp of water.

Sam didn’t even know how to respond to that. He crossed the room in two long strides and sank into the chair next to the couch. Part of him wanted to scream ‘Yes!’ and just spill everything he was feeling. Maybe if he just said it, all of it, it wouldn’t feel so toxic, like it was eating him from the inside out. But the other part of him was terrified—the thought that there was even a sliver of a possibility that saying it all would ruin what he had now with you, whatever it was—even nothing more than friendship, struck him cold. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. You gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, whatever it is… you should do something about it,” you said. God, take your own advice, you wimp, you thought. But you went on for Sam’s benefit. “Without knowing exactly what’s going on I can’t give you better advice but… maybe talk to a doctor, or Dean, or my sister, or a therapist, or… an exorcist or shaman maybe?” you added with a laugh.

Sam smiled at you but it only lasted a few seconds before his face fell again. “I should let you sleep some more,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Don’t bother,” you responded. “I always forget how messed up my sleep is after drinking. If only we could all be like Dean and just be dead to the world for 13 hours straight after overindulgence...”

“I don’t know how he does it,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“It’s completely unfair,” you agreed, standing and stretching. “Let me see your hand. How is it today?”

Sam tried to deflect. “Oh, uhh… It’s fine,” he said.

You gave him a discerning look. “It’s fine so that’s why you’re hiding it behind your back?”

He gritted his teeth and gave you a slightly guilty smile. “It—it looks way worse than it is,” he said.

“Sam—let me see it.”

He started to back toward the doorway giving you a tight smile. “It’s really fine,” he argued, trying to disarm you, putting the couch between you and him.

“Sam!” you said in surprise. “Let me see!”

“Honestly, it’s nothing!”

“Samuel Winchester, if you don’t let me see it right now, you’re going to regret it…”

Now he let out a laugh, his face lighting up. “Okay, first of all… Don’t ever call me that again. Second, you think I’m scared of you? Especially right now? You’re hungover,” he said, still backing toward the doorway, a grin on his face, knowing that would fire you up.

You started around the couch toward him. “You should be scared.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” He gave you one last look and turned and ran.

“Son of a—” You raced after him. Any headache you had suddenly vanished and you were trying not to be too loud chasing after him, not wanting to wake up Dean and your sister. “Damn you and your long legs, Sam!” You thought you heard him go into the kitchen so you raced around the corner and darted inside but looked around in confusion when you saw it was empty. “…Sam? AHH!”

Suddenly, strong arms around your waist from behind you, picking you up playfully and swinging you around before dropping you back down on your feet. He was laughing and you could feel it resonating in his chest. You spun around to face him and hit him good-humoredly in the arm. “You ass! God!”

This only made him laugh more. One of his arms was still around you, settled on your lower back, leaving you pulled in rather close together. The smile lighting up his face seemed to have banished the dark circles from beneath his eyes and he looked carefree. You wished it would stay that way. God, you loved his smile… and the way it sent light dancing in his eyes, scattering blue-greys and olive green and amber and honey-colored refractions. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a weapon on me,” you scolded him, but unable to prevent a matching grin from spreading on your face. “You should know better than to startle a hunter.” You felt his hand flatten out gently on your back and his fingers trailed across it as he parted from you, sending chills and electricity running up to the top of your head.

The smile stayed on his face. “Sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” you countered. “Now, seriously, give me your hand.”

This time he begrudgingly obliged and held out his injured hand for you to examine, bracing for your reaction. But he was grateful for the unimpeded time to examine your face as you looked it over, and for the gentle touch of your skin on his. “I really think it just looks worse than it is,” he said.

There was significant swelling across his knuckles and angry dark purple and black bruises. You looked up and caught his eyes again. “Sam…”

He shrugged vaguely. “Still worth it,” he said. Now his voice was serious and quiet again, and he watched a flash of something in your eyes but it dissipated too quickly for him to decipher.

You sighed. “This looks broken. You’re going to the doctor today,” you said.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything. He was worried if he did you would let go of him. It had been hard enough to slip his arm from around you when he felt the moment pass when he should have. I am so screwed, he thought.

“And you should NOT drive all the way to town one-handed,” you said. You paused thoughtfully and then released his hand gently and stepped back. “Ask my sister to take you. You need an x-ray for sure.”

That felt like a punch to the gut. Just the mention of her shattered the bubble of illusion Sam had felt himself hiding in, just soaking in whatever little bit of you he could at any given moment. But he nodded dutifully. “Yeah, I will. You’re probably right.”

You gave him a small smile and raised your eyebrows at him. “I usually am,” you said.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Hey, sis,” you sister said, grabbing you into a one-armed hug as you sat with your coffee at the kitchen island.

“Morning.”

“How are you? Hungover?” she smiled a little at you, but it was tempered by another expression.

“Had a bit of a headache but it’s gone now.” Your heart fluttered as you again thought about how sweetly Sam had set out the hangover cures for you in the library.

“Good,” she said, pouring herself a big mug of coffee too and leaning on the other side of the island across for you. “How are you with… everything else?” she asked.

You considered her thoughtfully for a moment and nodded. “I’m fine. Really.” You set down your mug and met her eyes. “Look, I want you to know that none of that happening last night was your fault. And Sam was just upset and he shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I told him as much, too…”

She nodded straightened up. “I know. I know it wasn’t. But, honestly, all that matters is that you’re okay.”

You gave her a half-smile. “I am. I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Did you talk to Sam yet this morning?” you asked her. He had disappeared after your discussion in the kitchen and you hadn’t seen him since.

“Mmm,” she shook her head as she sipped her coffee. “No. It’s weird, I think he’s been having trouble sleeping or something. He’s been gone when I wake up for like the last week.”

How could you not know that he isn’t sleeping? How could it take you a week to realize that? you wondered. “Oh—yeah. Maybe you should ask him about it?” you suggested.

“Yeah… maybe… I probably should. He just—sometimes I don’t think he wants to talk about that stuff, you know?”

Your brow furrowed. “Hmm.” You’d always found Sam to be pretty open with you, but you had to admit that lately you did get the feeling that there was something going on with him he was concealing.

“I should try though. You’re right. In any case, it has really been cutting in on our recreational time together, if you know what I mean,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.

You felt sick. “Ha… yeah…” You cleared your throat and tried to veer the conversation away from where it was going. “Anyway, I think he might have broken his hand last night—umm, when he punched that creep in the face… So, you should probably drive him to urgent care today to have it looked at. He shouldn’t drive that far one-handed.”

“Shit! Seriously? Oh, poor babe. God, I hope he broke that guy’s face too,” she said with venom.

“He might have. The second hit was a pretty stellar punch.”

“Good! Fuck him. …Oh, shit—I can’t take him today.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “I have plans. I’m going to meet a friend for lunch and then we’re gonna go see that new suspense thriller that just came out.” She chewed her fingernail. “I really don’t want to cancel. We have such a hard time matching our schedules…” She looked up at you hopefully, giving you a pleading, toothy smile.

“…What?” you said, your tone a little strained.

“Could you drive him? Pleeeeease,” she begged you.

You sighed. “Don’t you think you should be there? He might have broken his hand,” you emphasized.

She bit her bottom lip. “Am I the worst girlfriend?” she asked you. “I’ve just really been looking forward to this! It’s been a while since Sarah and I hung out and… it is seriously hard to get our schedules matched up.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Well, honestly I think you should be making this a priority.” You tried to keep your tone from sounding too harsh, but you also wanted her to realize how you felt about her trying to bail.

“… Look, it’s not like I would get to, like, go into the x-ray room with him. I’d just be sitting in the waiting room. He won’t care!” she said.

You felt yourself clenching your jaw and gave her one last disapproving look but she seemed to be impervious to it. “Fine. Me or Dean can take him,” you said.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, reaching across the counter and grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. “Where is he anyway? I want to say good morning.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a while. Maybe he went for a run or something.” You got up, leaving your empty mug on the counter. “I’ll see you later. I’m gonna go talk to Dean about taking Sam.”

Dean’s bedroom door was open and the blankets were all ruffled but it was empty. The next logical place to look for Dean Winchester was, of course, the garage. You heard the familiar sound of metal on metal and classic rock blaring from a radio echoing in the cavernous space as you entered.

Weaving your way through the rows of cars, you found him underneath the Impala. You lifted a foot and kicked the bottom of one of his boots, eliciting an expletive, shortly followed by him sliding out on the mechanic’s creeper. “Hey,” he said, sitting up, his legs stretched out in front of him. You leaned back on the Impala beside him. “What’s up, drunky?” he asked you, that typical mischievous glint in his eye. “How are you feelin’?” he asked, getting up and grabbing a rag nearby to wipe his hands off.

“Ha ha ha,” you said sarcastically, pulling a face at him. “I’m perfectly not-hungover,” you said. You strategically left out Sam’s sweet gesture to you.

“That’s a miracle,” he said. “You’re usually such a giant baby—ow!” he laughed as you pinched his arm. “Hey, but seriously. You okay? Ya know, that asshole last night—”

You swallowed the tight lump in your throat and tried to push the feeling of rising panic at the thought of what had happened away. “Really, I’m good, and I just don’t want to talk about it… or think about it.”

Dean nodded, his expression now serious. “So, what’s up?”

You turned around and leaned your hands on the edge of the engine compartment. “Well. I think Sam’s hand is broken.”

Dean groaned. “I was afraid of that… that second hit. He was so mad he didn’t hold his form quite right.” You nodded.

“I told my sister she should take him to get it looked at but she is—busy today.” Dean could hear the annoyance in your voice. “She’s too busy to take her boyfriend to urgent care because she’s going to lunch and a movie…”

“Hmm. Mhm,” he said, leaning back against the car.

“What?” you asked, looking over. He shrugged.

“Nothin’.”

You scoffed. “Well, obviously not nothing.”

He laughed. “I know better than to say every thought that pops in my head… So, what’s the deal?”

“Well, he needs someone to drive him,” you said, giving Dean a pointed look.

“I’m not taking him. I’ve got Baby half taken apart and was looking forward to an entire day of tinkering out here.” He gave you a smug smile.

You stared at him. “We both know you could have her back together in no time if you wanted to.”

“Correct,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “If I wanted to. Why would I want to rush to throw her back together just so I can go sit on my ass in a waiting room? There is a perfectly capable person standing right next to me with a completely put-together, functional vehicle ready to go.”

Your heart beat a little faster. “Why?” you asked.

“Why what?” The smug smile was still on his face and he carelessly slung the rag in his hands over his shoulder.

“Dean,” you said, your tone a little warning. This only elicited a gruff laugh from him.

“I don’t see what the problem is. I think it’d be good for the two of you to spend some more together. Alone,” he grinned.

“To what end? He’s dating my sister.”

“Yeah. I know. That means you can’t hang out? Hey, I didn’t say go get a hotel and fuck him, did I?”

“DEAN!” You felt your entire face burning red, which was obviously the desired reaction because he laughed heartily.

“Look,” he said through another friendly laugh. “I just think you have to stop dancing around this. Maybe if you hang out more like you used to it’ll—I don’t know—shake something loose. Either you’ll be brave enough to spill your guts or you’ll realize what an idiot he is and get over him. Something! You’re just sitting around pining and—quite frankly it’s starting to irritate me.” He flashed you another boyish grin, obviously pretty pleased with himself.

“We do hang out,” you argued. Flashes of the mounting tension and little touches and smiles surged forward in your mind.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you hang out,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “You’re both all—” he stopped himself quickly before he said too much. “Just—just drive him. It’s like a twenty-minute drive. Try and relax and just enjoy being with someone you like. Don’t overthink it, Y/N. Seriously.”

You crossed your arms and stared at him. “I hate you.”

“Love you too,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Baby’s undercarriage to attend to.”

“That’s what she said…” you murmured as you watched him disappear beneath the Impala again. His gruff laughter drifted out.

“Nice. Now go find Sam and take him to get that crippled hand looked at! We need him back to punching shape ASAP.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You went about your morning routine and eventually heard your sister and Sam’s voices drifting down the hallway toward you. You stepped out into the hall and Sam came into view, obviously just back from a long run.

“Hey,” you said. “Did I just hear my sister? Where’d she go?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s headed into town for lunch and a movie with her friend Sarah,” Sam said.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, she said something about that. Um… Since she’s busy and Dean is working on the Impala, I’ll take you to get your hand looked at whenever you’re ready.”

Sam gave you a half-smile, but his heart was leaping just at the thought of spending some time alone with you without the possibility of interruptions, even if it was just the 20-minute card ride back and forth from town. “Sure. Just let me shower and get cleaned up,” he said, jutting his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his room.

“Good run? You were gone kind of a long time,” you inquired. ‘Seemed longer than usual.” Oh, God… is that weird that I noticed that? Is that too obvious?

Wow. She noticed that, Sam thought, his heart skipping a beat again. You always seemed to notice the littlest things about him. You instantly picked up on his moods, his anxiety. You noticed when he was wearing a new piece of clothing and when he got a haircut. Was that just being an attentive friend of…? He anxiously averted his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, good run. Just—needed some time to think and to blow off some stress, you know?”

“I do.” You knew exactly what he meant. You pretty much felt that every damn day for one reason or another.

Sam ran a hand over the back of his neck, feeling inexplicably nervous. “Alright, well, I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” he said, and he headed to his room.

About a half hour later, Sam was in your doorway, freshly showered and feeling a little more like himself—maybe it really just was the thought that he could relax and just be himself around you. He didn’t have to worry about playing some role that was expected of him and he didn’t feel like he was lying to anyone (except for maybe himself). You didn’t notice him standing in the doorway at first and it gave him leave to watch you for a moment with a warm feeling blooming in his chest. You were at your computer, your chin propped on one hand, obviously deep in though. “Ready when you are,” he said, causing you to look up suddenly.

“Sure. Let’s do it. Sooner is probably better, right?” you said. Sam followed you through the garage to your car.

“Heading to get your hand checked?” Dean asked Sam as he passed him and the Impala. Dean set down his tools. “Lemme see it.”

Sam sighed heavily but begrudgingly held out his hand for Dean to see. “Goddamn, Sammy. You really did fuck that thing up. Come on, did you forget everything dad taught us about good punching form?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I had something else on my mind in the moment, funny enough.”

Dean nodded, feeling a wave of anger swelling in his chest at the thought. “Yeah, I get it. It was still a good hit. Guy went down like a bag of bricks.”

Sam nodded, seeing that you were waiting for him at your car and he rushed to catch up. “Yeah... I’ll keep you posted,” he yelled back to Dean, who was watching him now with a somewhat smug smile on his face.

It was a beautiful day out and the weather was sunny but mild. The wind whipping in through your open window and the radio playing your favorite songs was refreshing, but having Sam next to you in the passenger seat was even better. You imagined that his hand was incredibly painful, but somehow he still was in an upbeat, positive mood. You talked and laughed the whole drive to the doctor’s office—about everything and nothing at the same time. And Sam was relieved that your sister’s name didn’t come up once. And he didn’t know it, but so were you…

“Alright,” you said, throwing your car into park. “Here we are. I hope we don’t have to wait too long for them to see you. And I also hope it is good news.” Sam watched your brow wrinkle as you glanced over at his hand again. It seemed even more swollen now.

“It’s alright. I’m sure they have some blocks or something in there to keep me occupied if we have to wait,” he joked, climbing out. You fell into stride next to him and checked in at the front desk of the urgent care area. You were lucky—they were going to be able to see Sam right away.

“Good luck,” you said, starting to take a seat.

“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.”

In about 20 minutes or so, a nurse came to find you in the waiting area. “Are you Sam’s girlfriend?”

You heart skipped a beat and you stood suddenly, feeling your cheeks burn a little red. “Oh—we’re not—”

“He wanted me to bring you back to sit with him while we wait for the radiologist to read the radiographs.”

“Oh. Alright. Is everything okay?” you asked, following her through the labyrinth of stark white halls with seemingly endless doors.

“I think he just wanted some company,” she said, giving you a kind smile.

“Sure. Of course.” You anxiously wrung your hands. Finally, she stopped and knocked on an exam room door and you heard Sam’s voice inside. She held the door open for you to go in and gave you another reassuring smile.

“We’ll be back with those results as soon as we can,” the nurse said, and she bustled off. The door snapped closed behind you and you stepped farther in to see Sam sitting on the end of the exam table in a gown, his clothes folded neatly on a nearby chair. He looked so entirely out of place in that hospital gown and his socks. This tall, strong man somehow looked like a little kid. It was adorable, and you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Being with someone at a doctor’s office or a hospital when they were hurt, vulnerable, mortal, was strangely intimate and you felt a tinge of annoyance that your sister didn’t seem to recognize that. But in the next breath you were a little thankful she hadn’t… You sank down onto another chair nearby and gave him a questioning look.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I just really wanted you to see me in this tasteful ensemble,” he said, gesturing to the gown and down to his stocking feet.

You laughed lightly. “It looks great on you,” you said.

“I’m considering asking if I can wear it out. What do you think?”

You tilted your head and considered him with a mock thoughtful expression. “Mmm… I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess I should ask you how comfortable you are with the idea of my bare ass on your car seat. That could be the deal breaker,” he joked. “Oh my God,” you said, your cheeks coloring but your eyes lighting up as you laughed. “Are you serious??”

He shook his head, also laughing now. “No. They let me keep my boxers on,” he said. “But it made you laugh.”

“Why did they make you change anyway? It’s just your hand,” you said.

“Ahh. Yeah… well, they’re going to have to set it and the nurse said something about me likely needing an IV with some good painkillers.”

“Oh, god… is it bad?”

Sam shrugged vaguely, trying to downplay it. “It wasn’t a walk in the park when the doctor was examining it, but I’m fine,” he said, wanting to reassure you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel guilty, but he could tell by your expression that was exactly how you were feeling.

You anxiously chewed your bottom-lip. God, Sam loved that… “I’m really sorry, Sam. This is my fault. If I hadn’t been so drunk I could have punched the guy out myself…” you muttered.

“Hey—knock it off,” he scolded you, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “In no way is this your fault. It is only that creep’s fault. And if you had punched him out, you might be the one sitting here in a weird gown that somehow feels like it is both made of cheap fabric and paper at the same time,” he laughed. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want you going through this pain for anything… Or any pain really…” Sam trailed off. You held his eyes as long as you dared but eventually succumbed to nervousness. You were a little overwhelmed by Sam’s assertion. That meant something, right?

There was a thick feeling between your lungs that you couldn’t identify as you stared down at your hands, but you could sense that Sam’s multifaceted eyes were still on your face until there was a knock at the door a few moments later.

You and Sam both looked up as the doctor came in. “Well, Sam, I’m afraid you have a broken and somewhat displaced bone in that hand.” The doctor sat down on a nearby rolling stool. “It’s what we call a brawler’s or boxer’s break in the business,” he said.

You gulped, again feeling guilty and sorry that he had to deal with all this. “Does he need surgery?” you asked, your brow deeply furrowed now and low over your eyes.

“It’s a possibility, but I’m hopeful that we can get it back into place without it. We’ll have to set it and then you’ll need to wear a plaster splint for a while. And follow up again with an orthopedist or hand specialist in about a week to make sure it’s healing alright. We’ll set it and take new radiographs to make sure everything is back where it needs to be and then go from there. Okay?” The doctor gave Sam a tight smile. “Any questions?”

“What does the recovery time look like for this? How long would he have to be in a cast?” you asked.

“Probably have six weeks in the cast, and you’ll need to do some physical therapy afterward of course because the muscles will be weak from disuse. That can take 4-6 weeks to get you back to normal strength again, but I’ve seen motivated people do it safely in less time. Any other questions, Sam?”

Sam shook his head. You tried to read his expression but he was either concealing that he was upset or was completely fine with the news that he would be out of commission for a while. “Alright, well we are going to get started here. Have you taken any painkillers today?” the doctor asked him.

“Just some ibuprofen early this morning, around five,” Sam said.

The doctor made a note on his pad of paper. “Alright. Well, we are going to get you on some of the good stuff for this. I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain. So a nurse will come in and get you set up with an IV and some painkillers. We’ll give you some local anesthetic to numb your hand so we can set it, and then we’ll do some more radiographs.”

Sam nodded and thanked the doctor, who left again, leaving the two of you alone.

Sam could see anxiety written on your face. “Sam, I am so sorry—”

“Hey. Stop that. Really. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “If I could go back and do it over again, I’d hit that guy again. And maybe another time after that,” he said, giving you a small, kind smile. It didn’t soothe the unease and regret on your face though. “I need a vacation from hunting anyway,” he added. “Come here.” He gently inclined his chin in a beckoning nod.

You stood, wringing your hands and came to stand next to him where he sat on the exam table, still towering above you even from his seated position.

“Y/N, listen to me. I would accept a lot more than a broken hand to keep you safe. I mean it. All that matters here is that you’re okay.” You met his eyes and they were flickering back and forth between yours and you wanted more than anything to grab him and kiss him and let everything you felt and thought about him spill out, but with difficulty you swallowed that feeling and it contributed to the ever-growing knot in your chest. But you settled for standing on your tiptoes and throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as you dared. His arm wrapped around you immediately, and you didn’t know it but Sam was shutting his eyes tight just like you were and trying to commit that moment to memory, the feeling of having your arms around his neck and the weight of you against him.

You finally broke apart and stuttered a little awkwardly. “I—I should give Dean a call and let him know what’s going on. And maybe my—my sister, too…” You gave Sam one last warm look. “I’ll be right back.” You stepped just outside the exam room with your cell and dialed Dean. He picked up on the second ring, obviously still in the garage as he had to turn the volume way down on some classic rock music blaring in the background.

“Y/N—hey. How’s Sammy?”

You sighed heavily into the phone. “His hand is broken. The doctor thinks they can avoid him needing surgery but he’s going to have to be in a cast for six weeks…”

“Six weeks?!” Dean repeated, running a hand through his hair. “Damn. That’s a long time to not be hunting. How’s he doing with it?”

“Well, you know Sam. It’s hard to tell. But he says he’s okay with it and he’s just glad that I’m okay…” you trailed off and Dean could tell your mind was wandering elsewhere.

“He’s not lying about that,” Dean said. “And I know saying this is probably worthless but try not to feel guilty about this. For the last time, it is not your fault.”

“Yeah… anyway, this could take a while. They’re going to get him on an IV and give him some painkillers before they set the bone in his hand, and then he will need to have more radiographs. So, we could be gone a while.”

“Alright. Well, hey, shoot me a text with an update after they set his hand and let me know how he is.”

“Okay, I will. I’m gonna try and get a hold of my sister to let her know what’s up. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good idea. Talk to you later,” Dean said, and he hung up.

You dialed your sister, crossing your fingers that she was still at lunch and would actually answer her phone but it went straight to voicemail and you swore under your breath. You left a message explaining what was going on and just as you were finishing a nurse was headed your way with an IV bag. You followed her back into the exam room.

“Alright, Sam,” she said, hanging the bag up on a nearby stand. “We’re going to have you feeling better in no time here.” She got some supplies ready and gently took his uninjured arm and started cleaning it.

“I talked to Dean,” you said. “And I left my sister a message. She didn’t answer. Maybe she’s already in the movie. I can go wait out front again and if—” “Would you stay?” Sam asked you, so eagerly he interrupted you. “It’d be nice if you stayed.”

You smiled at him, just a small one, but it was genuine and it sent sparks lighting in your eyes. “Of course,” you said.

“Thanks.” The nurse got Sam’s IV set and told him to lay back on the table as she pulled out the extension to accommodate his long frame.

“Those painkillers are going to hit you soon, hun, and we don’t want you falling off the table,” she teased.

“So I really am getting the good stuff,” Sam commented. She laughed.

“Well, honestly, we were all wondering how you seemed to be handling that break so well on just ibuprofen. But nothing to worry about now, we’ll get you fixed up,” she said. “The doctor will be back in soon.” She left you and Sam alone again.

“Oh, boy…” he said suddenly, his voice sounding soft and a little dreamy.

“Hmm?” you asked him, looking up from your phone. Still nothing from your sister.

“I think those painkillers are starting to kick in,” he said with a small, self-conscious laugh. “Listen, Y/N,” he said, turning his eyes to you. “I’m just going to go ahead and apologize now in case I say or do anything embarrassing or otherwise ridiculous,” he said, smiling at you.

You gave him a fond look. “I won’t hold it against you. You’re on drugs,” you laughed.

Sam looked back up at the ceiling. “Thank God,” he said.

Part 4

[eskalations]

Riza takes a bullet for Roy - something, he's not entirely happy about.

(A Royai Family Oneshot)

FFN Link

A/N: Hey all! I was going to write the next chapter for Smoke and Gunpowder, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. The reason for the general title is so that I can turn this into a series of Royai family oneshots if I would like. Given how all over the place my writing is at times, I just don't ever know when my muse is going to strike!

Elizabeth Mustang is my own OC Royai Child. If you would like to read more about her, she is featured in both "the ballad of two killers" and "contentment". I've decided that Elizabeth is a total Pisces and is going to be this sweet, sensitive soul, birthed by two parents who are nearly the complete opposites of her.

I've had the idea for a LONG time that I wanted Royai's daughter to be interested in Alkahestry. I don't know why, but it just seemed right to me.

Let me know what you think! 

~

It had all happened so fast.

One moment, Roy and Riza had been standing next to each other – greeting the superintendent of a newly built school in the Nosh District – when suddenly all hell broke loose. Everything happened so quickly that even the most experienced of soldiers were left staring in shock.

It seemed that the only one who thought to act was Riza herself.

It was supposed to be a simple appearance for the "first" family. Though parliament was now in control of the country's laws, the Fuhrer and his wife were still seen as the faces of the Amestrian government. Many of their days included christenings of new buildings throughout the districts of Central.

This day had been special for Riza. As the First Lady of Amestris, she usually headed projects that had to do with education and its availability in poorer parts of the country. For the past year, she had been working on making education available to the Nosh District of Central, an area that was made up of primarily low income families and had a large Ishvalan population.

The project was one that Parliament had considered a gamble – due to lingering distaste for the Ishvalan race – however, Grumman had been very supportive of the idea from the start. After all the work they had done in Ishval in an attempt to make amends with its people, there was still a continued need to help those who had been misplaced during the extermination campaign.

Riza had spent many sleepless nights putting together plans to get the project off the ground. She had spoken with a countless number of contractors who would be willing to work on the facilities and had personally interviewed several teaching candidates herself. She had even made sure that the superintendent of the new school was of Ishvalan descent as well. Though she had put forth a large effort in Ishval to make up for her actions during the Ishvalan Campaign, she still saw this effort as an extremely personal way to apologize to those who were forced to live in squalor due to the war.

That's why – on the day of the christening of the first primary school established in the district – that Roy insisted upon accompanying his wife to the event. Though it was not a big enough opening to justify both members of the first family's presence, Roy wanted to be there to see the fruition of Riza's hard work. His wife had been grateful for the support and hadn't thought twice about allowing him to attend with her.

This proved to be a big mistake.

The event had started on time. The superintendent gave a short speech about the promotion of education and then made her way over to greet the Fuhrer and First Lady. Roy reached out to shake her hand when he noticed Riza go rigid beside him. He couldn't hear anything over the loud chatter of the crowd watching them, but he could see her lips move as though she were trying to communicate something to one of the bodyguards who stood towards the front of the stage. Before the message could be interpreted though – a very familiar sound filled the air, ringing out sharply above the voices of the spectators.

It was a gunshot. Two, to be exact.

Before Roy could react, his gloves shoved firmly in his pockets out of respect for the people in this area, Riza was shoving him down to the ground and falling on top of him. In the movement, Roy could feel her stiffen in preparation for impact – knowing exactly what was about to happen. Before Roy had even touched the ground, his wife's body jolted twice and then went limp over him.

Roy was in shock.

Everything that happened after that was a blur. It was as though he was watching everything happen from outside of his own body. He could see the blood pouring out of Riza's abdomen – the wound nestled tightly under the left side of her rib cage. There was also a wound on her left arm, the result of a second bullet shot in an attempt to still wound the Fuhrer. Both shots had been meant for him.

The crowd was in a panic and he could feel their usual team of bodyguards crowding around, attempting to put pressure on Riza's wound while also barking orders for an ambulance to be contacted. After the initial shock had worn off, Roy worked to secure her wounds, mumbling near her ear in an attempt to get a response. It was useless though, he received none.

They hadn't let him ride in the ambulance with her to the hospital, despite his own minor injuries. His scratches and bruises could be looked at later – all that mattered was that Riza received the help she deserved.

That was how he ended up in an eggshell white, Central Regional hospital room on a Friday afternoon. After Riza's emergency surgery, she had been transferred to Intensive Care for twenty-four hour observation. For the time being, she was being given sleep medication, so Roy had yet to hear his wife's voice since the events of the morning.

He wanted to be angry. Oh, he wanted to be angry. His men had already arrested the man who had fired the shots – a disgruntled Ishvalan whom had been forced to flee Ishval during the war. According to Havoc, the man had burns up the right side of his body – making it pretty obvious why he attempted to assassinate the Flame Alchemist.

Unfortunately, once again, Riza had reaped the consequences of his own actions.

"Chief?"

Roy turned sluggishly towards the voice, his movements slow as his exhaustion began to set in. Havoc was standing in the doorway of Riza's room – having gained clearance by the two bodyguards stationed at the door of her room. Roy was not taking any more chances, anyone who walked into her room was going to be screened before being allowed in.

The Fuhrer could tell by the look on his friend's face that he must have been quite a sight. He had ditched his jacket awhile back and was stripped down in his white button-down and military pants. There were splatters of blood on both articles of clothing, but Roy couldn't bring himself to leave his wife long enough to go wash it out.

While Roy might have looked bad, Riza surely looked ten time worse. Her usually shiny blonde hair had fallen out of its clip and was hanging limply over her shoulders, the light tips stained with the rusty red color of her own blood. She was breathing on her own – so he assumed that was a good sign – but still seeing all the tubes and wires attached to her caused him a significant amount of anxiety.

"Chief?" Havoc's voice brought him back, the man very familiar with his superior's self-loathing tendencies. "Rebecca wanted me to let you know that she's picking Lizzie up from daycare and that she can stay with us and the boys."

If Roy thought his guilt was bad before, it was nothing compared to now.

He hadn't even thought of Elizabeth.

He had been so focused on Riza and her injuries, that he hadn't made any alternative plans to have his daughter picked up from the military daycare. He had kind of assumed Grumman would take care of it after learning of the incident, which it seemed he had. He must have been the one to ask Rebecca to pick up his great grandchild.

If Riza had been the one sitting by his bedside, she wouldn't have forgotten something like that. Riza was so much better at this parenting thing than he was.

"Thank you." Roy spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "If she gets to be too much, call my aunt."

"It's no problem at all." Havoc answered, honestly. The man made his way across the room to clap his superior on the shoulder. "Don't forget – we'll always have your back. Even if we slipped up this morning, we'll do everything in our power to help aide in Riza's recovery."

He said it so confidently, as though there was no doubt in his mind that she would be able to pull through. The doctors certainly thought she would. After being taken into emergency surgery for a ruptured spleen, the prognosis seemed to be grim. However, with the assistance of an Alkahestry specialist newly employed in the hospital, they had been able to repair the organ nicely.

The wound in her arm was nothing more than a graze, so that was good news. It had required a few stitches, but other than that, the only wound that had caused a significant amount of worry was the one in her gut.

Roy supposed he should be confident in her ability to recover – but it didn't help that every time something happened to her, it made him more and more fearful of losing her.

"Why did she jump in front of that bullet?"

"You know the answer to that." Havoc squeezed his shoulder, his eyes drifting back to the woman in bed. "She may be retired from the military, but she's still watching your back. To her, I don't think much has changed."

"Elizabeth should have changed everything." Roy insisted, bitterness evident in his tone. He hated that he felt so angry with her, but it didn't change the fact that what she had done had been rash. "Riza knows better than anyone how terrible it is to grow up without a mother."

"I don't think the thought even crossed her mind." Havoc said quietly, eyes softening as Riza let out a sigh before shifting on to her side. "She watched your back for so long that I'm sure it's second nature to her to protect you. Besides, Riza doesn't want her daughter growing up without a father, either. Those shots would have proven fatal if she had not knocked you out of the way."

Roy knew what he said was true – however, it did not make him feel any better.

~

The next morning brought more good news. After Riza's tests had come back normal and her vitals had stayed stable throughout the night, the nurses decided it would soon be time to wake her up. They cleaned up the areas around her stitches while explaining to Roy that they would get a better idea of how much pain medication she would need once she woke up.

This made Roy nervous. Riza had made several noises of discomfort throughout the night, but she had still not woken up. While everything may seem fine on paper, it wasn't going to be until she was conscious that they would see the true extent of damage. Roy dreaded the moment that his wife would have to return to him, only to feel the intense pain that the previous day had left behind.

He couldn't deny how eager he was to hear her voice, though.

Rebecca had stopped by – bringing both Riza and Roy a change of clothes. Sometimes Roy forgot how much affection the woman held for his wife, but it was moments like these when Riza was at her weakest, that he could truly see the bond between the two.

The woman had brushed past him without a word before making her way to the bed, dropping their bags in her wake. Rebecca immediately produced a hair tie from her pocket, gently ruffling the soft bangs on Riza's forehead. Within a minute, she had the woman's hair situated into a simple braid that hung over her right shoulder.

"They did a shit job of getting this blood out." Rebecca tsked, using her fingernail to scrape the crusted blood from the ends of her friend's hair. "I know she could care less what she looks like when she's in the hospital, but I'm sure it hasn't made it any easier on you."

Roy grunted in agreement from his place beside his wife's bed.

Rebecca gave him a critical once over before pointing to the room's single bathroom.

"Go get changed, Mustang." The woman commanded before returning her hands to her hips. "The last thing Riza needs to see when she wakes up is you covered in blood. I'll stay with her so you can freshen up."

Though he had not left her side for more than a few minutes all night, Roy knew Rebecca was right. His back ached as he stood from the chair, his state of exhaustion much too great at this point to bother with arguing against her command.

After changing into a new button down and some comfortable black pants, Roy re-entered the room. The entire change had taken him less than two minutes. Rebecca fought the urge to roll her eyes from her spot perched next to Riza on the bed.

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. The machines that Riza was hooked up to continued to beep and buzz just as they had for the past twenty-four hours. Out in the hall, Roy could hear the two sergeants he had put on guard duty, talking with a nurse as she assisted a patient in the room across from them.

"Elizabeth's been asking for you."

Roy sighed, rubbing his eyes as a wave of tiredness hit him. "I know. Please just tell her we were called away for urgent business. I don't want her to get involved in this."

The Fuhrer could immediately tell from the look on Rebecca's face that something was wrong. He could feel his heart drop into the pit of his stomach as she twisted her mouth, as though trying to figure out exactly how to communicate her next words. Finally, she just came out with it.

"Actually, she already knows."

Now Roy was certain his heart was all the way in his feet. He felt like he was going to throw up. He could feel himself gripping the armrest of his chair, his knuckles going white with the strength of his grip.

"What?" Roy could hear himself ask through gritted teeth, his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears. "What do you mean she knows? How did she find out?"

Hearing the accusation in his tone, Rebecca gave him a glare from the other side of the bed. "Central Headquarters went berserk yesterday after Riza was shot. The workers in the daycare had the radio on when I arrived to pick her up yesterday, so she must of overheard everything on the news."

Roy groaned, his head falling into his palms. Great – just great! Now his daughter was being affected by this entire mess!

"She had a rough night last night." Rebecca continued softly, using her fingers to fluff up Riza's bangs once more, trying to keep her hands busy. "She kept on asking if Riza was okay and when she could see her and where her Daddy was. We told her everything was fine, but she didn't believe us. Jean was having to rock her when I left to try and get her to calm down."

The image that painted in Roy's mind made him sick. His poor baby was hurting and he wasn't there to comfort her. It seemed he couldn't do anything right.

"I don't know what to do." Roy admitted quietly, staring at Riza's sleeping face as though it would give him the answer. "I don't want her to see her mother like this."

Rebecca gave him a sympathetic smile, probably the first one she had ever bothered to send his way. "Maybe not like this – but if Riza's recovery is going to be long, then it may be better to let her see her occasionally so she has confirmation that everything's alright."

Roy nodded, knowing that her suggestion was probably the best solution. He wanted to shield his daughter from the cruel realities of their jobs, but much like the time when she had discovered their burns, he knew that keeping the truth from her would probably hurt her more in the end.

"Thank you for watching her." Roy spoke earnestly, dark eyes never leaving his wife's face. He missed the shocked expression on Rebecca's own features at his gratitude. "Hopefully, tomorrow we can let her come see her. I want to see her too."

Rebecca smiled softly, nodding her head in agreement before turning back to her friend.

~

The process of taking Riza off sedatives was a horrible affair.

To Roy, there was nothing worse than seeing his wife in pain. They had done the same thing during their stay after the Promised Day – letting her sleep off the worst of it before gently bringing her back. However, that didn't make it any easier to watch a second time.

Two nurses were in the room when Riza began the waking process. First, it was a sharp hiss that was drawn in between her teeth. Then, it evolved into a quiet groan. Before long, her glassy amber eyes were opening, meeting the concerned gaze of her husband. Though she made eye contact with him – due to the pain meds – he could tell she wasn't truly seeing them.

"Mrs. Mustang?" One of the nurses, Julia – if Roy remembered correctly – asked the woman as she gently patted her shoulder. Riza moaned and closed her eyes once more. "Mrs. Mustang, do you know where you are?"

Riza only moaned once again in response. Roy grabbed the hand laying limply by her side, squeezing it gently.

"Fuhrer Mustang," The other nurse, Patricia said, drawing his attention away from his wife's now scrunched up face. "Try and get her to respond. Her scans showed no head trauma, but we have to make sure she understands what's going on."

Roy nodded, leaning down close to his wife's ear.

"Riza," He spoke softly, his own hand still holding on to her own. "We just need to make sure you're alright."

He could feel her weakly respond to his squeeze, attempting to give him a squeeze back. Her eyes remained closed, but she did moan once more. He could tell she was trying to move her legs underneath the sheets, her mind not fully remembering all that had happened the day before.

She had been able to bend her leg by only a fraction, before it was falling back on to the bed, a hiss of pain escaping her lips. The movement had caused the stitches in her left side to catch and she was most certainly starting to feel the pain that seemed to be radiating there.

"Easy." Julia patted her shoulder once more, trying to calm her racing heart after the sudden onslaught of pain. "You have to be careful. You've been through a lot, so you need to take it slowly."

The nurses had shared with him that once Riza was awake and aware of her situation, she would be transferred over to the Recovery Unit. Upon being released from ICU, she would be allowed more than two guests at a time. That meant she would be allowed to see their daughter.

Knowing this, Roy decided to change tactics.

"Riza," He tried again, watching as the nurse took another syringe and reached over to one of the bags hanging on the IV pole. "You need to wake up so you can see Elizabeth."

This certainly had the mother reacting. Almost instantly, her glassy amber eyes were opening once more and searching for his own black pair. Once she met his gaze, he could see clear confusion in her expression.

"Elizabeth?" Riza asked, her words barely above a whisper. He could hear the slight rasp in her voice from lack of use. "Where is – ?"

Then suddenly as though it had all come rushing back to her, Riza realized where she was and why she was there.

"Roy!" She nearly jolted up in bed, the only thing keeping her in place being the hand of the nurse. Despite being restrained from completing the action, Riza still hissed in pain as the stitches in her side pulled once more. This had Roy reaching out for her other shoulder and gently pushing her back.

"Riza, you have to stay still." He reminded her, his thumb stroking soothing circles over the skin of her collarbone. "You were shot yesterday and went through emergency surgery."

"Yesterday?" Riza looked with bleary eyes to the window where the midday sun was flooding in. "I slept an entire day?"

"Yes ma'am." Patricia answered for him, retrieving a clipboard from the side table. “After your surgery, the doctors wanted you to sleep off the most painful part of your recovery. Unfortunately, we had to wake you in order to determine how much pain medication you actually need."

Riza nodded, familiar with the spiel. She had been in the hospital enough during her time in the military to know basic protocol. Doctors knew better than to administer heavy duty pain medications for long periods of time, especially when it came to soldiers. With how much trauma they had bubbling under the surface, they tended to become easily addicted to the pain killers they were given during treatment.

Riza had never become dependent on painkillers – however, she had had them enough to become somewhat immune to them. That immunity was probably the reason both her arm and her side were throbbing so badly right now.

"On a scale of 1-10 where is your pain at right now?" Patrica asked, her pen flying over the clipboard as she wrote down a few notes ahead of Riza's answer. "Please, don't feel the need to be brave in front of us – you can answer honestly."

Roy squeezed her hand in a show of support.

"A six." She answered honestly, the burning underneath her ribcage becoming more severe as time ticked on. While the slice in her neck had certainly hurt worse than a bullet, the pain she was feeling now was still relatively intense. "It's getting worse though as time goes on."

"That's normal." Julia assured her, squeezing her shoulder once more before turning to the tray behind her. She picked up a syringe with a clear liquid and administered it into one of Riza's IV bags. "This should take the edge off and give us a better idea of how much you'll need from here on out."

The liquid coursed through the IV and into the injured woman's veins. Within moments, the crease in her brow had lessened as the pain in her side dulled to a manageable ache. Roy gave his own sigh of relief as he felt her body relax under his touch.

The nurses continued to monitor her for a few minutes, checking her vitals and making sure that there were no unusual dips or spikes. Once they were satisfied, they took their leave, telling the couple that the surgeon would be arriving soon to sign Riza off for transfer to the Recovery Unit.

After the nurses left, the room was silent save for the beeps coming from the monitors. Roy returned to his seat next to the bed, scooting close enough so that he could continue to hold his wife's hand. Riza shut her eyes, the residual tiredness from the medication still lingering in her system.

"Why?"

Amber eyes found his own, the crease in her brow deepening at his question. "Why what?"

"Why did you jump in front of me, Riza?" Roy's voice shook with emotion, all the pain and suffering he had gone through making its way to the surface. His grip on her hand tightened as he learned forward in his chair, its legs squeaking in protest. "That's not your job anymore."

Riza gave him a sideways look – a wry grin finding its way to her features. "It will always be my job to protect you, Roy. No matter what."

"Riza, it isn't just the two of us anymore – we have to think of Elizabeth," He reasoned, shifting closer, both of his hands now cradling her fingers. He tried his best to communicate his own desperation in this action. "You know better than anyone what it feels like to grow up without a mother. You can't put yourself in these types of situations. You need to let our guards do their duty."

"They didn't notice." Riza's voice was hoarse from lack of use – however, he could still hear the determination behind her words. "They didn't see the gun – but I did. I will not stand by while you get assassinated. Elizabeth shouldn't have to grow up without a father, either."

"Riza, I couldn't do this alone. I couldn't go on without you."

"You would have to." Despite her weak grasp, she wrapped her fingers around his own and gave them a tight squeeze. "You are too important to this country. You would have to go on – for Amestris and for Elizabeth."

This was not a new argument for them – in fact, it came up more often than Roy cared to admit. Though Riza had chosen to act as an active First Lady, she still saw his worth as more than her own. He supposed that, to the world, he was more of an asset to them – but what they didn't know was that, behind the scenes, they had Riza to thank for everything. She was his guiding light – his moral compass – and without her, he wasn't sure what he would do.

She was necessary. She needed to know that.

"We're a team." Roy finally said, his dark eyes boring into her's. In this look, he tried to communicate all the pain and exhaustion he had experienced in the past twenty-four hours. "One does not work without the other."

"If I hadn't jumped in front of you – you would have died."

"Maybe," Roy reasoned, the corners of his lips rising to form a small, ironic grin. "But I've survived worse. It still doesn't give you the right to take bullets meant for me."

"If we're a team, then those bullets were also meant for me."

Roy barked out a laugh, though there was no humor behind it. This woman was impossibly stubborn, but it was one of the things he loved most about her.

~

Riza was transferred to the Recovery Unit soon after her surgeon had come in and checked her stitches. Everything seemed to be healing up nicely and so far, she was free of infection. All her vitals had been stable since surgery, so her team of doctors felt like she was in the clear.

Despite her improved condition though, they still felt it was necessary to keep her in the hospital for several days of observation. The Alkahestry Specialist had mentioned that she would like to continue her treatments for at least four days before allowing Riza to go home. Although her spleen seemed to be working properly, the specialist wanted to monitor its healing through her Xingese alchemy.

Riza's pain fluctuated over the next twenty-four hours after transfer. It took them awhile to create an appropriate cocktail of painkillers, but once they had it all figured out, Riza was able to rest comfortably for six hours at a time. Both her and Roy had been able to get a good night's rest and Riza had even felt well enough to change into a pair of her own pajamas.

Of course, Roy had to assist her and they had to pause several times due to her stitches pulling, but she was able to successfully get the white cotton clothes on before falling back on the bed, exhausted from the effort. She didn't say anything, but Roy knew she had chosen to change out of fear that Elizabeth would be upset seeing her in hospital garb.

Roy had called the Havoc's this morning to let them know that Riza's condition continued to get better. He was disappointed to hear that, once again, Elizabeth had had a rough night and slept very little. According to Jean, she had been asking repeatedly about her mother and father and why they weren't coming to see her. Roy's heart ached at the thought of her tears. He had wanted to call and talk to her, but he feared she would demand to see her mother and everyone knew he couldn't say no to his daughter.

It was decided that Rebecca would bring the girl by later in the afternoon, closer to dinnertime. Havoc, having taken his paperwork home with him for the remainder of the weekend, was going to stay and watch the boys. Roy promised himself that after all this was over – he and Riza would offer up to watch the Havoc boys for a weekend to give Jean and Rebecca a well-deserved reprieve.

Riza was so excited to see her daughter that she had been unable to nap during the day. While it had only been about forty-eight hours since she had last seen her daughter, there was something about a near death experience that made you want to hold your child a little bit closer than before.

Once the afternoon rolled around, Riza was very adamant that her pain medications be delivered promptly so that she would be in the best state when her daughter finally arrived. She even had Roy help sponge her off, to get off the excess blood left behind from the incident – a situation that Roy thoroughly enjoyed.

"I guess I'm returning the favor now." He had teased, using the sponge to wipe the delicate skin of her neck. There was still crusted blood there from her arm wound. "How many times did you have to sponge me when I was in the hospital?"

Riza rolled her eyes at his comment, but gave him a small smile as he dipped the sponge back into the bucket. "Too many times to count."

Once she was re-situated in bed with her pain medications administered, Roy gave the Havoc's a quick call to let them know that they were ready to see Elizabeth. The short wait they had to endure to see their daughter felt like it lasted an eternity. While Roy took to pacing for the time being, Riza attempted to read through one of the books Rebecca had brought with her clothes. It was a futile effort though.

Finally, there was a knock on the door, much too timid to have been one of the doctors who had been coming and visiting them. Riza sat up a little taller in bed while Roy paused in his pacing, standing directly in front of the room's lone window.

A tiny face peaked out from behind the wood of the door, a smiling Rebecca grinning and encouraging the little girl to keep pushing forward. Despite her honorary aunt's gentle prodding, Elizabeth stalled in the doorway, not quite sure how to proceed.

Roy's heart constricted at the sight of his daughter. Her dark hair was braided in a way that matched her mother's, the dark bangs that hung over her eyebrows brushed and straightened to perfection. But even this could not hide the worrisome pallor of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. Even her ruffled white dress – a new one that her aunt and uncle must have bought her – was wrinkled from being held by Rebecca on their way to the hospital.

Evidently, his poor daughter was having just as hard of a time as they were these past few days.

"Hi Elizabeth," Riza called gently from the bed, her face lighting up with a smile at the sight of her child. Although her mother looked happy to see her, Elizabeth was still uncertain. She looked up at her aunt, her wide eyes asking for direction.

"Go on," Rebecca gently patted the girl's back, urging her forward. "Go see your Mommy and Daddy. They've been waiting for you."

Seeing her father standing in his normal clothes was a familiar sight, more familiar than seeing her mother laying in a hospital bed anyways. With one more glance back at her aunt, her little sandaled feet began their trek against the tiled floor. In response to her actions, Roy squatted down and opened his arms to receive her.

"Hi Lizzy," He murmured affectionately. At his gentle greeting, the girl rushed into his arms. Roy caught her easily and hugged her tightly to his chest. A pair of little arms wound around his neck as he lifted her up off the ground, holding her as close as possible. God, had he missed her.

"Daddy!"

Her sweet voice almost brought tears to Roy's eyes. There was so much relief in that one word. It spoke of the days of longing where all she had desired was to see them. They had traveled before without her, but never under such severe circumstances. Roy was going to have to have a word with the daycare workers at Headquarters about letting the children listen to the radio.

Suddenly, Elizabeth was pulling away from his neck, her gaze level with his own. Though she hadn't been crying when she walked in, she certainly was now.

"Is Mommy hurt?" The girl asked, her eyes already puffy. Roy adjusted his grip, using his fingers to wipe a few stray tears from her cheeks. "They said Mommy was hurt."

"Shhh," He soothed the child as her tears continued to fall, he put his hand on the back of her head and drew her into his embrace. "Everything's okay, Lizzie. Mommy's fine. She's been so excited to see you."

His eyes met with Riza's as she gestured for him to come closer. The Fuhrer bounced his daughter gently as he made his way over to the side of the bed where Riza was reaching out for the distraught girl. Roy carefully placed Elizabeth into her mother's arms, trying his best to avoid jostling the upper portion of his wife's left arm. If the transfer hurt, she gave no indication as she cradled the girl against her un-injured side.

"Mommy?" Elizabeth asked, looking up at the woman next to her. Her mother wrapped her arm snugly around the small of her back and pulled her in even closer.

"I've missed you so much." Riza spoke softly, using her hand to wipe the tears from her daughter's face. Elizabeth eyed the IV's that were stuck in her mother's hand wearily. "I was waiting for you to come visit me."

Elizabeth didn't say anything in response, instead looking behind her at the monitors next to her mother's bed. In her four years of life, she had never stepped foot in a hospital. All of the equipment surrounding them was completely foreign to her. Roy pulled his chair up to the bed to get closer to his wife and daughter, watching as Rebecca chose to exit the room and speak with the guards outside.

Finally, Elizabeth's eyes drifted back to her mother's. She still looked uncertain, but at least she wasn't crying.

At that moment, Dr. Feng walked through the door with a clipboard in hand. The Xingese native known as an Alkahestry Specialist smiled from beneath her mask, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She couldn't have been more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old with such a young set of features.

"Hello Mrs. Mustang!" The woman greeted cheerfully, noticing the small girl sitting next to her. "Is this the daughter you've been talking about?"

Riza smiled down at Elizabeth as the girl's face lit up, now knowing her mother hand been speaking of her. "Yes – this is Elizabeth."

"Hi Elizabeth!" Dr. Feng walked over to the left side of the bed, opposite where the young child was seated. "Have you ever gotten to see Alkahestry at work?"

Elizabeth's face scrunched up in confusion at the woman's use of the word, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of her nose. She directed her curious gaze to her father, who was smiling down at her.

"Alkahestry?" Elizabeth asked, tripping over the 'es', making it sound as though she had said 'alkahistory'. "Like alchemy?"

"Kind of," Roy placed his hand on her tiny shoulder, giving it a squeeze. At her young age, she already knew quite a bit about alchemy, having the "Flame Alchemist" as a father and the younger Elric children as playmates. It made him proud. "It's not like my alchemy. This kind of alchemy is used to heal."

"Like a doctor?" The girl asked for clarification, looking back at the woman in scrubs. She gave a bright smile from below her mask, nodding her head encouragingly.

"Yes! That's why they call me Dr. Feng!" She pointed at her name tag, where the words were proudly displayed along with her specialty. "I helped make your Mommy feel better and I've been checking in on her ever since. Do you want to watch me work?"

Roy wasn't so sure that was a good idea, especially after Elizabeth's emotional reaction to seeing their scars only a few months prior. However, the child nodded excitedly, shifting to sit forward on her knees. Riza brushed back her hair affectionately, the attentive look on her face reminding the mother of the young girl's father.

Dr. Feng put on a pair of gloves before unbuttoning Riza's nightshirt. Once the stitched-up wound was exposed, both mother and father watched their daughter's face closely for some sort of reaction. The crease between her brows deepened in worry, but the sight didn't send her into another round of tears, her curiosity far greater than her fear.

The doctor removed the protective dressing over the wound, chatting with Riza about the pain. She was happy to hear that it had gotten a bit more bearable and that she had been able to sponge off earlier in the day. According to the specialist, her recovery was right on track and she shouldn't have to be in the hospital for any longer than possibly three or four more days. This was good news indeed.

Elizabeth watched as the woman took a funny brown liquid and drew a transmutation circle over the area under her mother's left breast. Once the circle was set, Dr. Feng pressed her hands to the woman's abdomen and the liquid began to glow. Elizabeth's attention was so focused on the woman's ministrations that she didn't notice the wince on her mother's face once the circle was activated.

The young girl watched in fascination as the glow dimmed and her mother's body relaxed – the healing arts promoting the growth of new tissue around the tender organ.

"Wow," Elizabeth said in wonder, her black eyes wide as she reached out with a finger to gently touch the residue left on her mother's stomach. Riza carefully guided her daughter's hand to an area that wasn't so tender and allowed her to feel the warmth of her flesh. "Cool!"

Dr. Feng laughed at the child's enthusiasm, disposing her gloves in the waste bin at the side of the bed. "It is pretty cool, isn't it? It makes saving lives kind of fun."

Those words had Elizabeth's eyes widening once more. "You save lives?"

Riza smiled down at her daughter, pushing her dark bangs back from her forehead. "She saved my life the other day when I first came here. Without her, I probably wouldn't have survived."

Elizabeth's face turned sad for a moment, her lower lip jutting forward in a pout. Roy feared she was going to start crying again, until she shook her head to get rid of the frown and instead turned to smile up at the doctor.

"You're like a hero!" The young girl proclaimed excitedly, leaning forward on her knees and bringing her fists to her chest. "I want to be hero!"

This shocked Roy. While his daughter certainly knew a lot more about alchemy than the average child her age, she had never shown much of an interest in it. She had been impressed by his show of skills from time to time, but beyond that, she wasn't terribly inclined towards things like fire. It seemed like her interests went in another direction – healing.

At the child's words, Dr. Feng was laughing once more, placing a warm hand on the girl's head. "You can be, Miss Elizabeth. All you have to do is study hard…"

"Study hard." Elizabeth nodded vigorously – a look of determination on her features.

"…and always listen to your mom and dad…"

"I always do! I'm a good listener!"

"….and have a healer's heart!"

With that, Dr. Feng tapped Elizabeth's chest, right over where her heart would be. Almost in awe, Elizabeth placed her hands over the area, her eyes wide with wonder.

Long after the doctor had taken her leave, Elizabeth chattered on and on about the scene she had witnessed. Even after Riza's pain medications started to wear off, the woman didn't have the heart to tell her child that it was probably time to go. They had expected Elizabeth to be emotional and upset at the sight of her mother in a hospital bed – and she had been – but it seemed that her experience with Alkahestry had replaced her fear and sadness with a new-found excitement.

Roy watched from his chair beside the bed as the two most important ladies in his life chatted about doctors and hospitals and Alkahestry and about a certain ponytailed girl who had once saved Riza's life. The pure joy on Elizabeth's face and the sweet affection on Riza's had the man smiling as he leaned back in his seat.

Who would have ever thought his daughter would be fascinated by Alkahestry?

[iqandboobstoo-blog]

Piss ‘n Moan (Part One)

Every rare once in a while, Mistress meets a man who restores Her faith in the existence of worthy males and gives Her hope regarding the Youth of America.

Such was the case, yesterday, when Mistress made arrangements to  rendezvous with a young man at Her Pleasure Palace for some afternoon delight .

Though Mistress had been corresponding with this novice only a short time, She was satisfied that this 26M subby would amuse and please her, if gifted the opportunity, Accordingly, She issued the following orders:

If the applicant wishes to please The Mistress and gain admittance to Her continued regard by completing a rigorous interview process, he will do as follows:

he will arrive exactly at 11:00 a.m. this morning (address to be provided via text, once applicant has committed to the interview).

he will enter the residence .

he will remove all of his clothing, except his panties, and hang everything up on the hooks on the inside of the door.

he will move to the center of the room.

he will kneel upon The Mat of Submission, facing The Tiger.

he will submit to The Mistress a text reading "Oh, Divine Mistress! i am here to serve at Your Pleasure."

he will close his eyes.

he will await The Mistress's arrival.

he will follow The Mistress's orders until She dismisses him.

The Reader will now pause a moment to imagine the thrill in the blood, the heart-stopping excitement, the contraction of the epidermis (creating a cold sweat and raised hairs) experienced by the applicant upon receiving The Mistress’s invitation. Oh, yes!

you are welcome. The Mistress is pleased to extend such joy to any and all of Her fans, as they vicariously follow the adventures of this most fortunate young subby! Mmmmm... you should be so lucky! Perhaps, one day, you will be... Meantime, The Science shows that your brain can’t tell the difference between your imaginings and the lived experience of this boy who won the Mistress’s Lottery of Joy, so do spend a few moments in that lovely head space--imagining yourself arriving at the door of the Mistress’s Pleasure Palace, awaiting Her presence... and your fate!

Mistress immediately repaired to Her Palace to make ready, then took a brisk stroll along the river, working up a sweet sweat as the moment of the applicant’s first act of obedience to Her drew near. Mistress does SO enjoy the interview process! 

This morning, She revels in working up a lovely froth of sweat and pheromones with which to intrigue and torment Her interviewee. As She feels the first sheen of moisture coating her upper lip, as her slippery underarms and frothing crotch ease the various frictions of locomotion, She toys with the thought of whether or not to make the applicant lick it all clean, or, instead, to order him into the shower (after having smothered his face in Her underarms and perhaps gripping his face in her crotch with the vise-like grip of her thighs) to lather Her up all over and gently remove every trace of sweat and soap.

Promptly, at 11:05 a.m., a text arrives. She has timed her walk perfectly to arrive covered with sweat, yet without a trace of labored breathing. The applicant should be so lucky as to hear her labored breathing by the end of his interview!

She opens the gate to the patio, knowing he can hear it inside. She imagines his heart racing, the contraction of his balls, the shriveling of his penis as Fear grips him. She smiles. She waits. He’ll be wondering... was that her, or someone else entering the patio? Fed-ex, perhaps? She stealthy mounts the stairs, making no sound. Hee hee hee...She loves mindfucking the applicants! She turns the door knob...

the applicant has locked the deadbolt! Ah! This subby is practical as well as bold. She appreciates his pragmatism, ensuring that only She (or someone following Her orders) will come through this door. He has heard the door knob turn, ratcheting up his already unbearable anticipation. Now she will make him wait. She thinks about walking back down the stairs loudly enough to leave him wondering if She has changed Her mind, if She is, perhaps, outraged at being locked out of Her own Palace!

Oh, but She is eager to see this boy, to move on to more interesting mindfucks and, perhaps, other fucks. She punches in the key code; turns the deadbolt, slowly and opens the door.

There he is: her eager applicant, awaiting his interview. On his knees, with his back to the door. In his panties. His arms at his sides. She can see by the barest fluttering of the hems of his panties that he is trembling in an agony of anticipation--and, no doubt, with just a touch of fear. She crosses to a cupboard, pulls out a bottle of water, returns to a position behind him, just off his right shoulder. She uncaps the bottle, and drinks long and deeply, letting him hear the gurgle of bubbles inside the bottle, and the lusty opening and closing of her throat as she swallows. She throws in a few soft expressions of satisfaction with the quenching of her thirst. “Mmmm!”  “Aaaah!” Oh, what fun! Such an innocuous activity, such a small detail, yet She knows the suspense of listening to Her drink, and his intense curiosity and desire to hear her voice for the first time, are like frantic birds inside his brain. 

Ann. Tiss. Uh. 

PATION!

How The Mistress ADORES first encounters and the unique opportunities they provide for titillation--experiences that can never again be quite recaptured. Each interview is an adventure, completely new and unexpected, even to Herself, as she crafts and improvs Her approach to titillate, thrill and agonize each interviewee according to Her insights into their fears, hopes and personalities!

THIS is precious time!

She circles him now, inspecting him. His eyes are obediently closed. He does not move or speak, as is meet. She brushes by, so close as She passes that She feels a few of his shoulder hairs brush against her bare thigh. He twitches, slightly. First Contact. As light as the landing of a diaphanous insect. She smiles, again. She has evoked exactly the response She wishes.

“Stand up!” She whispers huskily in his ear. He lurches obediently to his feet. He is a bit taller than She. A matter of no import. Mistress enjoys men of all sizes. She simply notices. 

He is a bit overweight, but what Mistress would call “well-upholstered,” rather than “fat.” She savors the contrast of this soft, babyish attribute against his impeccably groomed facial hair. In fact, a not-insignificant amount of body hair lightly covers his chest, his belly, even his back. Mistress adores a Natural Man! Whether naturally sleek, smooth and brown; pale and covered with downy fluff, or swarthily sporting a mat of dense hair, a Natural Man is a delight to The Mistress. While a manscaped creature can also be sexy, She does not approve the modern obsession with appearances which undermines so much sexual and personal happiness.

She has been pleased with the correspondence from this articulate, would-be acolyte, in which he has underplayed his physical features without sinking into self-loathing. “Not good-looking. Overweight (but not exceedingly so). And my dick is nothing to write home about.” Average. He has an average dick. Mistress has already assured him that an average-sized cocklet is a treasure, fully capable of pleasing the vast majority of women. She is a true believer in the old maxim: “It’s not what you’ve got, but how you use it.” She remembers her old morning-wood lover, who had a beautiful, thick, hard cock. He lifted her skirt without preamble and fucked her hard, over the back of an office sofa, the first time they met, but subsequently used it with such an utter lack of imagination, and failed so miserably at performing in any other way, that She eventually expelled him from Her Grace. A one-trick pony will never last long in The Mistress’s stable!

Meantime, She wonders of THIS interviewee has understated the size of his cock, as he understated the merits of his face and physique...

That remains to be seen. Thus far, She finds his physicality and facial features more appealing than expected. She appreciates his subtle understanding of the value of modesty, and leaving it to Her to be satisfied or pleasingly surprised.

She is pleasingly surprised.

The shape of his eyes, fringed with sweet, child-like lashes, is lovely, and she expects them to be quite beautiful when She finally allows him to open them. 

His face is somewhat boyish. Perfect for Mommy play! His mouth is pretty. She imagines those bow-shaped lips wrapped around a nipple, sucking hungrily while the soft-looking, perfectly manicured hands knead at Her breast. Her cunt spasms at the thought.

For now, though, she wants to heighten his anticipation. She leans in, from behind, and sniffs at his armpit. “Mmmm...” She allows her exhaling breath to waft across his skin. She sniffs again, deeply. “Mmm hmmm!” He smells clean. No odious cologne or cloying scents. Simply clean. Like a school boy in his new suit of clothing, fresh from the shower, when Mommy waves him goodbye as the school bus pulls away from the curb.

Oh, my! Mistress adores school boys--especially school boys with grown-up cocks! (She also, under the right circumstances, enjoys a sweaty man on the verge of turning rank; however, an interview is not the appropriate place to share one’s body odors with The Mistress!)

The applicant has passed Mistress’s inspection. Now She will determine whether or not he is capable of pleasing Her.

(to be continued)

[mrs-sexy-curls]

“While I’m gone,” Gansey said, pausing, “dream me the world. Something new for every night.”

A dark and eeriee novel about a spark light personality who lit the world on fire. Delicious and dangerous, Ronan Lynch’s character intensity is filled with beauty, fueled by fear and filtered by none. A beautiful, tormented novel that doubles up on its predecessor and warns on the dangers of letting ourselves fall to deep into our dreams, as they start creeping closer into our reality instead.

5/5 Stars Recommendation: If the Raven Boys was a must read, the Dream Thieves is the installment in the Raven Cycle serious that you can not miss! It is exciting, thrilling, broodingly dark and nightmarish, for the heavy character development enthusiasts and danger seeking readers !

Picking up where The Raven Boys left off, we follow the 3rd person POV novel focusing on the eyes of Ronan Lynch, the group’s rage filled and broken seventeen year old. The group’s quest for the Welsh King of myths is going stronger than ever, now favored and driven by an odd, magical forests that spurted in the Virginia Valley, known as Cabeswater. Now tied to Adam— through a bargain where he sacrificed himself and promised to be its hands and its eyes, and to Ronan Who appears to be long acquainted with the forest through the messages he has left for himself scattered around it, in more than one deep and mysterious way.

Despite Adam’s sacrifice to awaken the magical energy line than runs through their town, the Ley line, magic seems to be fluctuating and acting in unstable and unstoppable manners; affecting the psychics of Fox Way, the decaying Noah and whatever curse lays dormant under the ground of Henrietta, Virginia. All while Gansey and Adam must their puzzled gang and Ronan can’t be bothered to act as a decent human being because of the nightmares he keeps bringing to reality with him when he wakes up—

That’s right, just like chainsaw, Ronan is capable of bringing objects, things and people back with him every time he wakes up from a dream. With Gansey gone, he befriends another dangerous Aglionby student Kavinsky who shares his gift and must now face with the consequences of his recklessness, the nightmares of his past, the present that fades between his fingers and the broken future he must fix back together.

Despite the magic of The Raven Boys and its original greatness, The Dream Thieves did not fall in its face in comparison. In fact, because of the engaging story and powerful character portrayal, I wouldn’t feel shy about calling it an improvement from its predecessor. It’s just that good ! This book is heavily character driven, whereas regular YA characters are guided and controlled by the plot and development is based around that, but every single moment with Ronan is worth it. This book is probably one  of Stiefvater’s fever dreams about Ronan, drugs and expensive cars and that’s probably what makes it the best thing out there.

Click Read More for the spoilers, kiddos !

The Dream Thieves Summary:

Everyone: Ronan no Ronan: Ronan yes

I love Ronan.

Thoughts on Gansey & Blue:

But the sensible part of Blue, which was usually the only part of her, thought that had more to do with Richard Campbell Gansey III having a nice mouth than with any blossoming romance. Anyway, if fate thought it would tell her who to fall for, fate had another thing coming.

Gansey added, “I would’ve thought you had more muscles. Don’t feminists have big muscles?” Decidedly not in love with him.

Let me explain something I’ve mentioned in the past. I’m a slow burner when it comes to romance. And if there is one thing I sincerely appreciated about this book series is the fact that its romance wasn’t driving the plot—despite the UK cover advertisement—, or even playing a major role in it, so I was expecting feelings to be developed throughout the course of four books.

In fact, while the entire Adam and Blue dynamic developed in this book and the previous book, I was sort of waiting situations where Gansey and Blue found themselves interacting alone and to find a slow connection brewing between them. Because its there, and it exists, but it bothered me the fact I barely got any sort of interaction between them on that regard until After Blue broke up with Adam, supposedly because she at last acknowledged her feelings for Gansey but I had no reason to believe she suddenly had a crush on this man she’s barely interacted with. I found the aforementioned quote to be adorable and endeering, and specially believable. While I know this paragraph doesn’t actually mean Blue dislikes Gansey, there is nothing that would make me thing this girl has anything remotely close to a crush when in the next paragraphs go something like this:

Adam allowed Blue into their circle as well, his eyes meeting hers for a moment.

I’m picking this one, Fate, she thought ferociously. Not Richard Gansey III. You can’t tell me what to do.

I’m sorry, but to then be met with this halfway through the book:

“As they baked in the sunlight, she let herself think it: I have a crush on Richard Gansey.”

Bothered me. For a book that did such a great time expression Ronan’s every thought and emotion so subtly yet clearly, I don’t understand why we couldn’t have had a moment extra to dwelve further into Blue’s state of mind regarding her feelings with Adam and Gansey. Everything was going great in the last book— And while I also did express in the Raven Boys review that I didn’t like Blue and Adam together, it doesn’t mean I don’t want a coherent progressive line from one boy to the other. I’d hate to call it insta-love, but it was rather close. I could say the same from Gansey as well— Since we were treated to the moment Blue realized she was into this boy, I hate not to be able to say the same thing about Gansey. He didn’t seem to like her romantically in the last book, much specially when he did try to set Blue up with Adam, he only seems to mindlessly be following Blue’s feeling because the plot said so.

Nice.

Still, after that entire “How did we even get to their romance”  fiasco Blue and Gansey had some absolutely endearing moments. The rest of their interactions were so pure and real, and never failed to tug at my heart. Expecting the silly calls in the middle of the night were nothing but #goals, taking Blue out for a ride at her beck and call when she was upset killed me on the inside, and not to mention the mock kissing they were forced to do. It was lovely and you could feel the pain and need in every sentence.

“Blue wore a dress Ronan thought looked like a lampshade. Whatever sort of lamp it belonged on, Gansey clearly wished he had one. Ronan wasn’t a fan of lamps.”

Not to mention Maggie’s prose. Always great, meaningful, and hilarious. Extra points just for these quotes scattered all around the book.

Thoughts on Kavinski:

Boy did Maggie get him right. One of my number one complaints with antagonists, is their general YA formula, empty and pure evil and somehow… That’s what Kavisnky is, but that is his entire character and its performed so well.

Kavinski appears as he harasses Ronan, taunts him into car racing until everything goes fatally wrong and he crashes, wounding himself and wrecking Gansey’s Camaro to the point of no come back. It is then when Kavisnki drags him down deep into his world of dreams, admitting he too can pull out objects from his dreams, and teaches him how to steal from his own dreams with the help of designer drugs.

Roll credits.

Kavisnki is there as a representation of everything Ronan is, and as an offer to be a companion in his fucked up, angry existence. This is where it should get good, right? An offer to be himself, without Gansey to force him into the path of righteousness that Ronan obviously no longer cared for, a friend in his state of self loathing and hatred… And this is perhaps were Ronan’s biggest proof of character development occurs:

The realization he wasn’t like that, and most importantly, that he did not want to be like that. Empty, careless, living a selfish existence to make up for the hole that was carved inside of him and that would eventually lead to his self loathing. Kavinski on the other hand, embraced that fully. He had money, popularity, the best parties and a reputation that reached the other side of the state and anything he could’ve ever wanted at the beck and call of a dream. Kavinski had it all… And that made him empty.

Kavinski’s solution to this could have presumably been reaching out friendships to try reckless and dangerous things like he does with Ronan with someone like Prokopenko, to the point that we eventually learned led to Prokopenko’s death. It didn’t work out, and instead he’s been reaching out to Ronan as he’s finally found someone he can call an equal to him. He wanted to be empty with someone else and after Ronan finally rejects him— rejects the entire lifestyle, rejects the hate he no longer felt for himself— he gives up, deciding to end his meaningless existence. And just like that, lets himself be killed by his own creation in the same way he came into the world: Empty.

Thoughts on Adam:

Hello yes, I need to address him again.

Adam was… Weird, again in this book. Maggie foreshadowed pretty well he was no longer the same person, after all, he just sacrificed a part of himself during the Raven Boys and honestly, it was great. It was a good weird, it was well done and very interesting seeing Adam coping and slowly changing as Cabeswater lived inside of him.

Now here’s the thing though— I really thought Adam was going to become a bad guy. Like I said, I could recognize his struggle and his change, his obvious moodiness and the constant fights with Gansey were at least deeper and complex (added to the ones I absolutely loathed where he’d reproach Gansey trying to be a good friend, even when it turned out it wasn’t even Gansey’s doing)… But I thought he was changing for the worst. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, I was enjoying it nonetheless, but I’ll have to charge myself guilty for actually thinking this was going to be the way Maggie pushed Adam out of the way to make way for King Gansey of all things good for Blue.

I was so pleasantly surprised she didn’t and that instead it was simply a complex battle inside of Adam to figure out who he is, like identity is a recurring theme in TCR books, and what Cabeswater and the Raven boys now meant to him, finally independent, finally his own person, finally away from his abusers. For someone who complains about being spoonfed my feelings so much in your average YA formula, I am sadly guilty of really thinking —and kind of looking forwards— Maggie was heading down this path. In the end, I’m just blessed she changed my mind.

One more time though, I had to find myself enjoying Adam more through the eyes of Ronan. Their interactions bless me.

Religious list of amazing things because holy shit:

The Gray Man having a mental debate whether he was capable or not to weave a flower crown for Maura. This is a cold, season hit man guys.

I love the Gray Man so much guys,

Just think about it, Maggie did this great job making a believable antagonist that felt good for her novel and instead made us fall in love in him and root for this man

He even goes through entire life crisis were he can’t get up from bed days at a time, thank you for making him real Maggie??

The Lynch brothers attend church together every Sunday and that is simply beautiful, like its really their last attempt at having a proper family.

Ronan, all of the amount of Ronan. 

Adam discovering it wasn’t Gansey who had payed the extra 2.4K of his apartment but instead Ronan and keeping quiet about it, like it had left him confused and speechless. Every mention of Ronan being a ball of sun feels so good and deserved, my heart was pleased every time.

Kavinski’s constantly fucking around with Ronan about being Gansey’s bottom

Kavinski practically confessing to Ronan and killing himself after his rejection, because that was so powerful holy christ-

What are Adam’s interesting thoughts on traveler’s rights?

[Review] The Dream Thieves – Maggie Stiefvater “While I’m gone,” Gansey said, pausing, “dream me the world. Something new for every night.” A dark and eeriee novel about a spark light personality who lit the world on fire.