#i did want to see what would happen if i was very forthright about 'have fun' in the fandom

[shy-writer-999]

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured (#2)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: P0rn with plot! ~5.9k words. Continuation of PT 1. Mutual pining, angst, fluff, and smut. Injured Zoro gives (afab) reader a hand this time... Or a tongue (oral sex, f. receiving). I inserted an asterisk (*) where the smut starts, so feel free to skip the plot! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

Giving Zoro A Hand When He's Injured (Pt. II)

The day after you had “given Zoro a hand,” aka, a hand job, Chopper was feeling well enough to take over your nursing duties. If you were being honest with yourself, you were disappointed. You’d miss Zoro’s feigned crankiness, you’d miss seeing him blush, and you’d also miss being able to touch his chest and arms every time you’d change his ice packs (among other things…). Caring for him for those five days was eye-opening—Zoro seemed to actually have a soft side. Or at least, you thought you saw a glimpse of it.

Coupled with your disappointment at not having an excuse to be close to him, you were tickled when you remembered how vulnerable he was with you. Zoro had been so forthright and sweet with you during the whole endeavor, and to top it off, he had admitted how badly he needed you. The last time you saw him, he was practically begging you to fuck him. Remembering how he moaned your name made your heart skip a beat.

It’s safe to say that Zoro felt the same way. He cursed himself for how much he liked you, and because of that he was second guessing your interactions. As he sat in his room bored, and when he was given the green light to walk around deck a couple days later, his internal dialogue was running haywire. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his feelings, and whether or not you reciprocated them. It’s peculiar, how flustered and timid he was with these things. You’d think he’d be strong and confident in this area, given that he was THE Roronoa Zoro, but he was quite the opposite. Because he was preoccupied with strength, with training, and with being the best swordsman the world has never known, he neglected his softer side when it came to women and emotions in general. And he wasn’t the most experienced, obviously.

Even after you had cared for him so tenderly, even after you were so close with him, moaned his name, had your hands wrapped around his cock, and kissed him passionately—Zoro was oblivious to your (very obvious) feelings towards him. He knew three things. First, that he was painfully infatuated, borderline in love with you. Second, that he wanted you to touch him again. And third, that he had to do something about it.

The problem was that he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. And he was doubting himself. He hadn’t seen you for two whole days after Chopper took over for you, and on the third day Chopper gave him the green light to roam around deck and do some light lifting.

How would he go about initiating something with you? What would the moment be like when he first saw you after all that had transpired? Should he just grab you and pull you into a kiss? Tentatively broach the subject? Pretend it never happened? Zoro was at a loss.

The first time he saw you since you helped him “relieve” some stress, he froze. It was at the dinner table and he had gotten himself a plate of food and sat down, not paying attention to anything going on in the loud room or raucous antics. He was scarfing down his food when he felt something. To be more specific, he could feel someone staring at him.

He paused and did a comedically slow look up. You were across the table from him, looking at him, and he hadn’t noticed you. He almost choked on his food. When his eyes met yours, he immediately looked away, on instinct. It was like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Hey, Zoro.” You casually addressed him, acting like you usually would have. To your eyes, he did seem to be acting a slightly different—he seemed pissed, honestly—but you figured that some awkwardness would be normal at first, given that the last time you saw him he came all over your hand. “How’s the shoulder and thigh holding up?”

He cleared his throat and looked back at you. His eyes were always intense and it made you squirm. It was hard to hold eye contact with him. He just looked so pissed off all the time and his gaze was, without fail, cold and deadpan.

Zoro, on the other hand, could feel blush starting to creep up his neck, threatening to take over his whole face, but he tried to fight it off as best he could. Just act normal, he told himself internally. Just act normal. Nothing weird happened. She said it didn’t have to be weird at all. But you’re acting weird. He started to argue with himself. Well, stop it, damnit!

“It’s uhh—it’s fine.” He shrugged, nonchalant. You had no way of knowing what was going on in his head. As much as you liked him, as much as you had hoped that what happened a few nights ago would have changed everything, your heart faltered. It felt like it didn’t change anything between you at all. Even though you gave him such a passionate kiss at the end, even though you said that you’d ‘have to try his cum next time’ (or something like that), even though he’d moaned your name… did Zoro really not care about it at all? Was it merely a one-time fluke, explained by how desperate he had been after days of not masturbating? His eyes seemed to suggest that this must have been the case. You thought that you would have seen something there, some small residual of the fire that had burned so brightly in him nights before but… his eyes were cold and uncaring. Your heart sank.

The rest of the crew were laughing about something and eating, so you thought the interaction between you and Zoro would go unnoticed. You would finish your food and go back to your room to be emo about it for a little while before emerging again. But, as always, Sanji had something to say.

“Hey IDIOT!” his voice cut the silence between you and Zoro. “Don’t you think you should be more grateful for having such a gorgeous babe as your nurse!? I ought to rip my shoulder next so I get to hang out with you for five whole days, beautiful~~” Sanji came over and kissed your hand, and you let out a laugh, embarrassed.

“Oh, stop it, Sanji!” You giggled. No matter how many times Sanji praised you, you didn’t know how to respond.

“My love~ can I make anything else for you?” Sanji’s signature tone was over the top and lovey-dovey. “I’ll make anything you want!”

“No, no, Sanji, I’m good. But thank you!” You waved him off with a smile and he blew you a kiss. By the time your short interaction was done, you turned back to Zoro and his seat was empty. He was washing his plate in the kitchen sink. He set it on the drying rack and walked back to his room. His abrupt exit stung. He really didn’t give a fuck at all, you told yourself, trying to fight back the pit growing at the bottom of your stomach. Now you definitely were going to be emo in your room. It was impossible not to read into that more. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

You felt rejected, like that sweetness you had seen from Zoro was a lie, like maybe he didn’t actually have interest in you, like you were getting your hopes up for nothing. After all, the only reason anything happened between you two was because he was in pain and couldn’t do it himself. You tried to reason the hurt away—you were just being a good friend, you told him it didn’t have to be weird or anything, you were the one who leaned up to kiss him, not the other way around. From this angle, it looked like Zoro was repulsed by you, evidenced by his own actions. He must have been disgusted by the whole thing—why else would he practically jump out of his seat as soon as possible?

Maybe him moaning your name was only a heat-of-the-moment thing, maybe the fact that you touched yourself in front of him made him disgusted, maybe you crossed a line. You were feeling all mixed up inside, sad, frustrated, emotionally unregulated, sick to your stomach. You liked him so, so much, and the painful realization that he didn’t think anything of it made you feel like absolute shit.

Well, it turns out that Zoro thought a lot about it. He was just emotionally repressed, or at least he was when it came to you. He didn’t know what to do with himself after he saw you at dinner, he felt like he needed get away from you as soon as possible, or else he was going to say something off-putting and weird or make himself look like a love-sick fool (and he definitely was one). He almost turned bright red when he realized you were in front of him; he almost lost his cool, hell, he almost choked!

Sanji speaking to you with such ease and such affection was the cherry on top. The shit cook could talk to you however he pleased, and it didn’t matter to anyone, but underneath the surface Zoro was seething with jealousy. He walked away from dinner so fucking annoyed at himself for not having anything else to say to you, so fucking annoyed at himself for not being nicer to you. His heart was screaming that he wanted to be the one who called you baby, sweetie, darling, and gorgeous. He wanted to be the one kissing your hand. But the shit cook got to do whatever he wanted, because Zoro couldn’t muster the strength or courage to get rejected. So, he shot himself in the foot, making you feel horrible and making himself feel horrible—two birds with one stone.

---

The next day Zoro was feeling a lot better. He could tell his shoulder was close to being fully healed, but it would be a couple more days until he could get back to working out, on account of his thigh. He felt better mentally, too. Sleep helped him process things; his emotions felt more worked out after a solid night of sleep. He was less annoyed with himself and had stopped spewing vitriol at himself. He was feeling clear-headed—if he saw you again, he would say thank you and not run away like last time. He was hyping himself up to do it, and his internal monologue along the lines of: Just say thank you, and move along, like a normal person. You don’t have to say ANYTHING about the handjob. Just say thank you, it’s simple! She can interpret that any way that she wants, and it isn’t objectively creepy. It’ll be fiiiiinnnneeee.

While Zoro felt better when he woke up, you felt worse when you woke up. Your eyes were red from crying. Something about that interaction with him broke your heart and got to you, so you couldn’t help it. When you had to walk past him in the hallway in the morning, you just pretended like he wasn’t there, acting like you were doing something on your phone. You wanted to disappear walking past him, cringing out of your skin. You usually would smile at him or say “Hi, Zoro!” but you kept it to yourself this morning, heart still stinging from the slight yesterday. He obviously wanted nothing to do with you.

Zoro made a mental note of you ignoring him and he almost didn’t follow through with his plans. If you weren’t saying hi or good morning to him, then something was definitely off between you two. This was a little moment that he looked forward to every day. Today had been the only day that you hadn’t greeted him in the morning since you joined the crew. It was out of character, and it worried him. But he told himself that he was going to thank you no matter what. No matter how shy or awkward he felt about it, he thought you deserved a thank you because you had been his nurse for five whole days, and more than that, you had helped him get off when he was so pathetic and desperate for it.

You rounded the corner of the hallway after passing Zoro. You thought you were in the clear, putting your phone in your pocket. Phew. That didn’t feel great, but it would have felt worse to say good morning to him and get ignored.

“Hey—Y/N?” Your heart stopped. It was Zoro. He must have speed walked down the hallway to catch up to you. You spun around to face him and he almost ran into you. He overestimated how fast you were going and when you turned around he was about three inches away from you, uncomfortably close. You were almost touching. A second passed before you both turned red and jumped a couple feet apart.

“Zoro, you scared me!” You faked annoyance hoping that it would distract from the vivid shade your face was quickly turning.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he replied, rubbing his neck in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing pink. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh! Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t so bad.” You offered him a smile, to which his heart twisted and butterflies fluttered. A feeling of relief crept over him at seeing you beaming at him like you always did—like he looked forward to every morning.

He had planned on saying thanks and hadn’t thought about what he would do after that. Now that his plan was executed, he was stumped—what would he do now? His heart told him that any time he spent around you was a treasure; but he didn’t have any idea on what to say, or how to rope you into spending more time with him. He didn’t know how to completely and gracefully express his gratitude without outright saying “Thanks for giving me a hand job!” And he was trying to avoid that.

He blurted out his next words. “Well, uh… Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around deck.” You smiled again and he turned the other way and shuffled off. He was dying inside. Cringing so hard that he wanted to slap himself. You’re a grade A FOOL, he reprimanded himself. What the fuck was that? ‘See you around deck’? Are you fucking twelve? That was so awkward, holy shit. I always see her around deck. Where the hell did that come from? He cringed again. He needed to disappear ASAP. He felt so awkward, like he fumbled the whole interaction. He was being hard on himself for no reason, because you thought nothing of it. You were simply tickled that he showed you some kindness, that he wasn’t as disgusted or creeped out by you as you thought earlier.

You did see him around deck later that day, much to your mutual delight. You gave him a wave and he smiled back at you. Usually, he would do some kind of head nod thingy, bringing his chin up quickly and back down, as a sort of acknowledgement. But this time he had given you a genuine smile. His lips curled into the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, and your heart skipped a beat again. It was crazy how much you liked him.

---

At dinner that night Zoro sat across from you, deliberately. He always tried to sit near you. It was the only time of day he could be that close to you, normally, and he would take any time he could get, but he rarely interacted with you at dinner. He’d spend more time bickering with Sanji, Luffy, and Usopp more than anyone, and he’d laugh a lot too. Especially if he had some sake, which was frequently.

When he sat down, you gave him another one of your smiles. “Hi Zoro,” you chirped. “How’s your shoulder? Is your thigh doing okay?” His shoulder was still covered with bandages, peeking out from under the t-shirt he was wearing, and he was still slightly limping from the huge gash on his thigh.

“Both are doing a lot better. Chopper said I can lift weights that are a bit heavier now.” His tone was gruff, and he was focused on his food, not looking at you.

“Nice!”

“How was your day?” He asked, looking up from his plate into your eyes. His eyes were as steely as ever but… they looked different. You couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

Asking as simple a question like that was not how Zoro historically interacted with you. In fact, you’re not sure he had asked something like that before. You two were friendly, you were crewmates, after all. But you didn’t talk or hang out much, one on one. Or at least, you hadn’t since you nursed him for five days (and helped him get off).

“It was good,” you answered him. “I didn’t do much, honestly. Just sort of lazed around.”

“Me too.” Zoro held eye contact with you for slightly longer than usual—his eyes lingered. He steadied himself mentally before he asked you his next question, cringing in advance, figuring you’d shrug him off. But he was dying to know the answer. He needed to talk to you.

“I’m going to have some sake on the deck after this, do you want to join?” His eyes were still locked on yours and butterflies stirred in your stomach. You realized what emotion lied behind his eyes—he seemed to be pleading. This was out of left field for Zoro.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You responded, blush taking over your cheeks. You were flabbergasted, caught unaware.

“Well, I’m done with dinner, so when you finish just find me on deck.” He nodded at you, offered a small smile, and got up. He went to wash his plate, grabbed a couple bottles of sake, and went outside.

---

When you went looking for him, Zoro was sitting on the upper deck with a bottle already cracked open. He was looking off into the ocean, and you took a second to take in his beauty. He looked perfect to you. His jaw was sharp and the line of his neck was familiar to you after changing his ice packs and bandages. His arms were toned, his figure manly and handsome. The setting sun was casting beautiful and golden rays on the whole scene, and he looked all the better for it. This was the man that you liked, loved, even.

You came and sat next to him, and he offered you a bottle. Zoro drank sake straight out of the bottle, so you did too. “The sunset is gorgeous,” you observed.

In his mind he answered back, you are gorgeous. But in reality, he responded with a “Mmmhmm.”

The tension and silence in the air between you felt suffocating.

“So, why’d you invite me to have sake with you? What’s up?” You asked, puzzled.

“No reason, really.” He responded, turning to look at you. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, forcing himself to say what was actually on his mind. Forcing himself to say what you deserved to hear. “I just like spending time with you.”

You turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, uh.. Seriously? That’s nice of you.” You smiled at him. He noticed your blush, perturbed, and barreled onwards with what he planned to say.

“Yeah. I think I’ll miss having you as my nurse. Not in a creepy way or anything,” he cautioned and waited a beat. His heart was crying out to him—tell her how you feel! “Your presence is peaceful and you’re kind. It was nice to spend time with you.”

The look in his eyes was vulnerable and open. You’d only seen it once before, right before he opened up to you, days earlier. You were taken aback, flustered, couldn’t believe your ears. Did Zoro say that it was nice to spend time with you?

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled back at him. You didn’t know where the conversation was going, but your heartbeat was through the roof. “I had a nice time. And I don’t think you’re creepy or anything. I think you’re really sweet. So, I guess I should be the one saying thank you.”

Now it was Zoro who turned crimson.

“Thanks for what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Thanks for letting me be close to you like that.” You answered softly and your eyes met his again. His gaze was tortured—he felt like he was dreaming. Your words hung in the air.

“Anytime.” He answered, almost breathless. Then, he took the jump. After saying his next words, there’d be no going back. But the moment was in front of him, and he had to seize it. “I may not show it, but I like you a lot. To be honest, I think about you a lot too.”

You were stunned. Had he just said that? Was the sweetness you saw in him coming to the forefront? It seemed like time stood still.

“Zoro, I think about you a lot too.” Your voice was gentle.

“How?” He asked. He had to know, he needed to hear it explicitly from you. If you liked him, he needed to know. He needed you to hit him over the head with it.

“How? Zoro, if you couldn’t tell already, you’ve been driving me crazy. You’re all I can think about.” You looked at him, mired in the agony of finally confessing your feelings for someone. “I am painfully infatuated with you. I can’t even look you in the eyes half the time. I was glad to be your nurse because I like you. I more than like you. I—” you stopped yourself. You’d save those words for another time.

Something came over Zoro in that moment. It’s like he was in an alternate reality, one in which you liked him, too. He reached his hand up to cup your cheek and pulled you into the most delicate kiss. His lips met yours with sparks. It’s like you melted into him. Neither of you had any regard for what was going on around you—Sanji could have started screaming bloody murder at you and you wouldn’t have moved.

It felt like the kiss lasted millennia. When you pulled away from each other, you could see the fire and passion in Zoro’s eyes. It was like you had unlocked a completely different side of him, a side that you knew was there all along. It was a part of him that was vulnerable, sweet, kind, passionate, sensitive, and loving. You knew he was like this under the surface, and that he loved all of his crewmates and would die for them. But this side… this romantic side felt different.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He murmured. “Fuck.”

“Me too.” You felt like you were going to pass out from blushing.

“Can we do that again?” He asked. His eyes seemed ravenous. He was starving for your touch, craving your attention, desperate for your love. He wanted to kiss every inch of your body, tangle his fingers in your hair, feel your heartbeat next to his, your body warmth. But he told himself to not get carried away.

You whispered back a “yes,” and Zoro put one hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him. His other hand cupped your cheek again, and his kisses were timid and light. His touch made you feel electric. You needed more than this, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he felt the same.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, so your bodies were pressing. As your kisses became more intense, you bit his lip softly and let your tongue explore his. Zoro’s hand on your cheek crept downwards. His fingertips went underneath your shirt and came to rest on your waist—he wanted to feel how soft your skin was, at last becoming acquainted with it after so many months of yearning. In doing this, he had no ulterior motive. It was a privilege to touch you.

The deck was empty at the moment, to your advantage. Who knows what commotion would have run wild if the crew had seen you and Zoro with your hands all over each other and lips locked.

When you had made out for a few minutes, Zoro pulled away from you. He felt like he could be more upfront with you and confident now that you had mutually confessed your feelings.

“Y/N,” he let himself ask the question he had been pondering for days. “Did you really mean it when you said we could do it again?”

He was referring to the end of your last interaction—when you said there would be a ‘next time,’ as in, you’d be intimate with each other again.

“Of course,” you answered him. Your faces were only centimeters apart. His heart was aching for you.

“When?” His voice was hoarse and low.

Your bit your lip and responded, bolder. “Now?”

“Please.” His eyes were begging you, his brow furrowed slightly. You nodded and got up, thrilled. He followed you without a word. He had never foreseen that the night would come to this.

(*) When you reached your bedroom, Zoro locked the door behind and then practically threw you against the wall. His hands were everywhere, and his mouth was so desperate—he felt your waist, your hips, your ass, your neck, your cheeks, your hair. His kisses were needy, sloppy, went, and ravenous. One of your hands clasped his neck, the other began to roam his chest and abs. You could feel his raging erection pressing on you. You had both been fantasizing about this for months and now that the cards were on the table, you meant business.

Moments passed and your hands crept down his broad chest. You hesitated when you reached the hem of his shirt. As you placed your fingers underneath it, you touched his bare skin, palms passing over his happy trail, up to his abs and scars. You took in everything your senses gave you—how his skin felt, how he smelled, how his big hands felt on you, how forcefully he was kissing you.

“Zoro,” you spoke into his mouth and in between his kisses. “Zoro, I want you.”

He hummed into your lips and his hands similarly crept under the hem of your shirt. His hands fingers across your stomach, making you shiver; he felt your stomach and your waist, rubbed circles on your skin with his thumbs, memorizing every inch.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He needed to know if you really meant it. If you really wanted it.

"Yes."

Hearing your answer, Zoro reached his fingers for your bra and unclasped it. He went back to the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up, peeling your shirt over your shoulders and helping you slide your bra off so your breasts were bare. When he started kissing you again, his hands hungrily started exploring—his fingers pinched your nipples and ran them between his index finger and thumbs, rubbing them until you let out a whine. He kneaded and squeezed. He couldn’t get enough.

Zoro unlocked his lips from yours and bent down to latch his lips over one of your nipples while his other hand played with your other nipple. His tongue swirled, making your bud harder than it already was. He sucked on it, until it started to feel good, and you were letting out soft sounds, trying to keep the noise down. You were wet already, cunt throbbing for him.

“Zoro, please,” your voice strained. “Need you.”

His kisses worked up your chest, up your neck, and to your lips. You could feel his hard bulge rut into you. You shimmied out of your pants before Zoro picked you up, lifting you by your waist. He carried you to your bed and put you down so you were lying flat.

Sliding off his pants one quick movement, Zoro was stripped to only his black boxer briefs now. Zoro’s cock was (as you were already aware) huge. When he got on top of you, you could feel it rubbing on your stomach through the fabric and on top of your underwear.

Zoro was putting all his weight on his knees, letting his other hands explore and trail around your body. This time, his kisses trailed from your lips, down your neck, to your stomach, and then came to rest on top of the fabric of your panties. He pushed your thighs apart and held them there. Bringing his face to your panties, Zoro left one long lick from bottom to top, up your folds, to your clit. He licked at your clit a few times and you whined—the rough fabric combined with his tongue made friction that felt so good. You could feel your wetness seep and saturate your panties with each lick and kiss placed through the fabric.

He tugged the fabric aside and ran his tongue between your folds, stopping right before he got to your clit. As soon as his tongue made contact, you let out a moan, albeit a soft one. The noise was music to Zoro’s ears, and it fueled him. He neglected your clit for a few more seconds, only focusing on lapping the wetness from your folds, teasing your slit, and breathing in your scent.

Zoro wanted you to feel as good as he had felt a few days before, when your hand was wrapped around his cock. This was his way of ‘repaying the favor.’ When he finally ran his tongue in circles around your clit, you moaned his name for the first time.

Hearing his name come out of your mouth was like honey to his ears. His heart was pounding and twisting, core burning, and the only thing he could think about was you. He needed you to feel good. He wanted your toes to curl in pleasure, wanted you to cum at least once, wanted you to repeat his name again and again like it was a symphony.

His tongue lingered on your sensitive spot for a few seconds before returning to lick the glistening slick that was accumulating down your cunt. The head he gave was so good it was indescribable.

Zoro pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pulled it out slowly, eliciting another moan. After doing that a few times, he added another finger, loosening you up and drawing more slick from your core. As his fingers started to curl and scissor inside of you, he reached his head forward and started leaving long kisses and warm licks on your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming—his big hands were prying your thighs apart still, his grip was so hard it would leave a bruise, his fingers were fucking you steadily, tongue still licking long stripes up your clit, hot breath sending ripples of euphoria through you. You could only handle so much before you started to squirm. Your fingers reached down into his hair, holding it tight, pulling his face closer to you. Zoro had to hold back a grin. Little did you know, that was his mission accomplished for the night, other than making you cum, that is.

“Zoro,” you moaned his name a second time, cueing him run his tongue in gentle circles around your clit again and slow the pace of his fingers. “I can’t take it anymore. I—I’m gonna cum”.

He pulled his fingers out of you. “Don’t cum yet, ok?” Sucking your juices off his fingers, he let go of your thighs, which fell limp and wide open.

You nodded and whined again. “Okay, I’ll try.”

When he got back to eating you out, he switched it up—this time, his tongue fucked you and his thumb ran circles over your clit. The added pressure on your clit from the rough skin of his thumb drove you crazy, and when his tongue alternated from licking your folds to fucking your slit, you couldn’t handle it. Your legs clamped around him, squeezing his head, causing his cock to throb more than he physically thought it was capable of.

This time, regardless of whether or not he told you to wait, you were going to cum.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you panted, whining, “I need it. Please.” He could tell you were close. He pressed on your clit just a little bit harder, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure came crashing down on you like a wave (which, coincidentally, is what Zoro felt seeping out of you and onto his tongue). Your thighs squeezed his head harder and you moaned his name loudly, again and again, as you convulsed. Your toes curled, fingers almost tearing out his hair.

This was unlike any orgasm you’d felt before. It was more visceral—he truly knew what he was doing, which was wild, considering that he wasn’t the most experienced. But he must have had a gift for it, because that was by far the best head you’ve gotten.

He licked your clit through your orgasm, causing your hips to jerk. The pleasure was enveloping you, everything in your mind went blank except for the feeling of your orgasm and the sensation of his tongue.

When you had finished, he licked the rest of your juices off your folds, savoring it. Then he crawled back over you, looking down and pulling you into a kiss.

The thought of you tasting yourself through his kisses turned him on, too. His cock was painfully hard at this point, precum blotting very noticeable a stain through his briefs. He was endlessly pleased with himself after teasing such an orgasm out of you. When he had given you a handful of kisses, he collapsed on the bed next to you and reached over to sweetly kiss your cheek. His hand entwined with yours, and you were both out of breath, happy and sweaty together.

Zoro wasn’t overly fussed with his own orgasm and was planning on waiting until you fell asleep later to go to the bathroom and relieve himself. Tonight was about you. As long as you came, Zoro was happy. So, he smiled happily next to you, thanking his luck that the person he loved seemed to like (if not love) him back.

He figured that would be all for the night… but he was wrong.

＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／ ⊂(￣(ｴ)￣)⊃ (⊙︿⊙ ✿)

Check out part one if you haven't already! Thank u so much for reading, I hope you liked it! Part 3? Perhaps...

also here's my masterlist if ur interested!

--Z

[i-heart-hxh]

hi i have a question :3 i didnt rlly fully get these panels but was killua over the edge here bcuz he was worried of gon? like knowing bisky said he would leave gon to die someday.. i was guessing he got so paranoid of it and did this for gon's safety. (^^; help

Yeah, primarily what's going on in this exchange is Killua knows Gon has issues with seeing innocent people being killed, and he worries Gon will intervene if he sees the reality, and get himself killed or injured before they can complete their mission. So he's pushing Gon away for his safety, and so Killua can do what he needs to do without putting him at further risk. Killua did promise himself that he'd protect Gon and make sure Gon can fight Pitou, so this is a part of that.

It's actually part of a larger pattern we see with Killua's behavior towards Gon, where he decides to "protect" him by leaving him out of things and not giving him the full context of what's happening. Think of way back in Heavens Arena when Gido and Sadaso were threatening Zushi. Instead of telling Gon what was happening, Killua went behind his back and handled it himself. Another example is dealing with Rammot during the date with Palm. Not that Gon could have done anything then because he didn't have nen, but Killua doesn't even tell him anything about what happened after the fact.

Of course, it comes out of protectiveness and knowing Gon tends to take things too far, but at the same time it means their relationship can't be fully equal as things are--if Killua feels like he has to hide his own feelings and even what's going on around them in order to protect Gon, it means Gon can't make his own decisions or react to the full truth of a situation, and Killua has to make all these judgment calls about what he thinks Gon should and shouldn't know.

I actually think this exchange is interesting because here Killua is a lot more forthright than usual about what's going on and why Gon needs to stay out of it. But I think it also shows that the issues between them aren't entirely Gon's fault--it also comes from Killua pulling away as a result of his own ways of seeing Gon. Rather than laying out what's going on, discussing it, and letting Gon make his own decisions or talking it out so they both can figure out a solution, he makes decisions for him.

In this case I don't think he's necessarily "wrong" to do this within the context of the mission (though it ends up being a dangerous choice for Killua), especially because he tells Gon what's happening and why he's making the decision he is more-or-less, but it's part of a continuing pattern of Killua trying to shoulder burdens for Gon while (usually) shielding him from knowing Killua is even taking those burdens. In the process of taking on everything himself and not believing he needs backup or help, Killua very nearly gets himself killed (the needlefish scene). Only his kindness in seeing an enemy as a potential friend saves him ultimately.

We don't even know if Killua tells Gon the truth about what happened with that, either--my strong guess based on Killua's repeated tendencies is that he didn't, and he hides the seriousness of what happened to him because he knows it'll upset Gon and split his focus.

Also worth noting that Killua gets so worried about what Gon thinks of him and whether he sees him as a friend or a teammate in this arc, but here within the same arc we see Gon actively disappointed that Killua won't rely on him and stick with him, and wanting to continue to act together. We even see him thinking about it after they split up, worrying about Killua:

Of course this is well before he goes into his full rage hyperfocus that causes him to lash out at Killua, but I still think it's telling that here Gon is wanting to stick together and worrying about Killua's feelings. He seems pretty upset that Killua insists on doing this alone, even though he accepts Killua's logic.

This is all part of the communication tendencies on Killua's side that he's going to need to work on in order to have a better relationship with Gon. Of course, Gon has plenty of maturing to do himself, but I think it's worth remembering that Killua makes decisions like this a number of times that he thinks are in Gon's best interest, but it stunts their communication and means they can't work out the issues between them until they blow up in their faces.

Even their parting seems to be an example of this, where Killua makes all the decisions for Gon and tells himself it's in Gon's best interest, but likely doesn't explain fully why he's doing this. So again Gon is left in the dark about Killua's true feelings and motives.

It makes sense this is Killua's tendency, as is explored in canon Killua was raised with a smothering love, wherein he isn't able to have agency over his own life and others are constantly making decisions for him without his input. It makes sense his love for Gon contains some echoes of that.

Of course, it's something I'm sure they can overcome with time and maturity, but this scene is one example of Killua's protectiveness of Gon getting between the two of them.

[partly-cloudyskies]

Red Birthright - Chapter 8

A Star Wars WFM AU

“Hey, Princess.” “Don’t call me that,” Miorine said. “You’ve seen my bounty posting. You know my name.” “I don’t like your name,” Chuchu said with a matter-of-fact ease. She sat across from Miorine and the two had managed to achieve a civil if frigid silence, though that mostly owed to the fact that they spent much of that time eating. They no longer had that luxury. “It seems that I’ve managed to achieve a perfect slate of dislike across the board,” Miorine said. “And all I had to do was exist. Tell me, is there some specific objection you have about me or am I just that lucky?” “Well,” Chuchu drawled. “You’re prissy, stuck up, sharp-tongued. You managed to upset that poor girl you came with using a single sentence. You come aboard my home and start criticizing it immediately. I watched your weird Mandalorian cult shoot up a space station and my ship because you decided to run away from your home. And I’m starting to wonder if they’ll do the same to mine. And while we’re on the subject, your Clan Rembran is a bunch of glorified highwaymen who think they can shake down us independents just because they’ve got shinier stuff.” “House,” Miorine said, distracted. She wondered if Chuchu would call Suletta a ‘poor girl’ after she saw her in one of her rages. Miorine thought uncharitably that she’d quite like to see that. “What?” “We—they’re not a clan. It’s House Rembran of Clan Benerit.” “Whatever. I don’t want to know. And I truly don’t care.” Most of the barbs did not find their purchase, but Chuchu’s baldly stated concern that Rembran would find their way here did strike at a fear Miorine had tried to avoid. She’d bring calamity anywhere she tried to put down roots. The people here had been kind. Well. Nika was nice enough though how trustworthy was a bit of a question. And Chuchu was unpleasant but it was in a forthright way that was far preferable to intrigue and rumors. Still, she did recommend a very good sandwich. Even that felt like a lifeline in this moment. “That look on your face could turn aside a storm cloud,” Chuchu said. “The hell’s on your mind?” “Too many things. As you established, nothing that you’d care about.” “I’d love to keep it that way but we’ve got time to kill and I get bored. You finished?” Chuchu indicated the food wrappers and Miorine nodded her assent. Chuchu cleared it away and Miorine noticed for the first time that the table they occupied had a pattern of dark and light panels, arrayed in a circle radiating from the center. Chuchu reached to the side where there was an instrument panel. She fiddled with it. Nothing happened. Then she frowned and struck it with the heel of her palm. A holoprojector within the table wheezed to life. Tiny, monstrous figures suddenly occupied the board, arrayed on the dark and light areas. They idled where they stood, waiting for commands. “Dejarik?” Miorine said. “You play?” “I… am familiar.” “Good. Then I won’t have to explain the rules. I can kick your ass a couple rounds and then it’ll be time to take you to see the others.” Miorine raised an eyebrow. “Do try to go easy on a novice such as myself.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Someone Like You - Jubal Valentine x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @trublu2u @greenies-green @proceduralpassion @burningpeachpuppy @evee87 @delightfulheroshoeflap @iworldlywriter @helsinkibaby @penguin876

Jubal has heard the rumours about you and Spencer Briggs, the FBI profiler with a speciality in bomb makers. He hoped it wasn’t true, he’d worked with Briggs in the past and found him extremely challenging to be around.

Unfortunately, the reality of your relationship hits him in the face when he sees the two of you outside of a restaurant a couple of blocks away from his gym. It’s you that he notices first, he would know your laugh anywhere and when he hears it, he seeks out the source with a smile on his face because he enjoys spending time with you, in work and out of it. You’re wearing a yellow wraparound dress with pretty blue flowers embroidered into the fabric, one he’s never seen before. It’s only a second later that he realises that you’re with someone. He sees Briggs open the door of the restaurant, his hand on your lower back as he guides you inside and he hates it.

He spends the night tossing and turning, going over the event in his head. He knows he has no claim to you but still seeing you with Briggs, it cuts him deep.

He puts some distance between the two of you after that, it’s an act of self-preservation he tells himself, but he knows part of it is about punishing you. You’re moving on, carving out a life without him and he’s left behind watching it happen. He’d always had this notion, this stupid, silly idea what the two of you would get your shit together at some point, start something. He’s been fooling himself, holding onto something that wasn’t there. He sees that now.

It comes to a head one evening in his office. He’s submitting the monthly stats for Isobel to look over, a job he loathes because data entry is not his strong suit, and he gets bored with it very quicky. He doesn’t hear you come in, not until you set a takeout cup of coffee down in front of him. It’s from that place down the block that he likes, the one with the ethical coffee beans.

When he tilts his head to look up at you, he forgets about everything else, just for a moment. All he sees is that smile, the one that makes feel like he’s watching the sunrise for the very first time in his life.

“Thank you.” He says softly, raising it to his lips and taking a sip. It’s perfect as always. Rich and strong, a caramel shot because when it comes to working out the figures, he needs an extra hit of sugar to get him through.

You sit down in the chair across from him and he finds himself watching you. It’s been a while since the two of you have been alone in the same room together and he knows that’s on him.

“I feel like we haven’t seen much of each other recently.” You tell him as you settle back into the visitor’s chair. “I miss you.”

One of the things he loves about you is the fact your forthright, you aren’t afraid to be real with him. Part of working the program is about self-reflection and he can admit to himself that he’s felt your absence in his life acutely over the past couple of weeks. The jokes, the looks, the little moments the two of you share when no one else is around. It feels like he’s been living a perpetually cloudy day ever since he saw you at that restaurant.

“I miss you too.” He finds himself saying.

“I feel like things have been a bit weird between the two of us lately.” You tell him, gesturing between the both of you. “I’m sorry if I did something…”

“No.” He cuts you off with the swipe of his hand. “You didn’t do anything. It’s me, I…”

He trails off before shaking his head. This relationship between the two of you has always functioned on honesty and he owes it to you to be upfront because it’s not your fault, it’s his. He can’t help his feelings, but he can stop taking them out on you. At the end of the day, he just wants you to be happy, you deserve that more than anyone.

“I found out about you and Briggs and it short circuited something in my brain.” He says, tapping at his temple with his forefinger.

“There is no me and Briggs.” You inform Jubal. “We went on one date and decided to call it quits before dessert arrived.”

Jubal leans forward, his elbows coming to rest upon the desk.

“He profiled you, didn’t he?” Jubal questions.

“Yes, he did.” You tell him, cradling your coffee cup to your chest. “It’s humiliating to hear yourself reduced to a series of statements.”

You don’t tell him the specifics, but Jubal thinks he knows. He remembers the language Briggs used when he profiled Dana, how impersonal it was. It was as if he stripped away the humanity of the person, describing a series of neurosis without knowing the cause or the empathising with their history.

“You deserve a lot better than that.” Jubal tells you, his thumb tracing along the plastic lid. “You deserve someone who cares about you, who understands you, who doesn’t make you feel shitty about yourself.”

“Someone like you?” You ask him softly.

Jubal meets your gaze as he raises his coffee cup to lips.

“Yea,” He says quietly. “You deserve someone like me.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[crossdressingdeath]

Today on things in TSatS that I love: the first encounter with Epiales. Not the nightmares they give Nico and Will (although those are also good, especially the bit where Will wakes up and is immediately like "Of course it was a dream, Nico would never"), the encounter with them personally. Because the way Nico first tries to distract Epiales with false compliments while he gets himself into a position to obliterate them is very much the sort of thing Percy would do; Percy's go-to strategy tends to be "lie to and trick your enemy at every opportunity", I can absolutely see him going "Oh yeah you did great work you're fantastic at nightmares please ignore me gathering my power" in this situation. But when Nico tries it... it totally fails. Epiales immediately sees through it. And I love that, because Percy and Nico have very different MOs when it comes to dealing with situations involving talking to an immortal being like this!

Like, the thing is that Percy is a liar. And I don't mean that as a bad thing; it's a viable strategy for the situations he ends up in, and while to an adult mind his tricks seem to only work because every god and monster he faces is a moron I remember being impressed with them as a kid, so they're clever enough for the target demographic. But if you look at his interactions with immortal beings, he tends to go for lies and tricks first. Nico on the other hand is actually an incredibly honest person. Other than that time he claims he and Thalia are fine when they are Absolutely Not Fine in BoO, his few lies are lies of omission. In TLO he just doesn't mention his planned detour in the Underworld to Percy and when Percy finds out about it he's very forthright with what (he thinks) will happen, and in SoN he never actually denies knowing Percy, just doesn't confirm it (when Percy says they've met Nico's response is just "Have we?", turning the question back on Percy; it's actually possible he was trying to subtly test how much Percy remembered, since if he properly remembered Nico rather than just having a feeling he'd argue the point). It's a nice touch that this approach extends into how they handle enemies, where Percy is willing to lie to them but Nico tends not to.

So Nico tries Percy's method of dealing with Epiales, lying to them and tricking them to put a being that's absolutely more powerful than he is at a disadvantage, and it doesn't work because Nico doesn't lie to people. That style of trickery isn't his way, so Epiales immediately sees through his attempt. The actual fight against Epiales is fun because Nico does have a knack for dream magic (even if TSatS mostly forgot about that, can Rick please be consistent about Nico's powers) so once he knows it's a dream caused by someone directly in front of him he can snap himself out of it pretty easily. And then Will basically just uses rock-paper-scissors on them, since light beats darkness. But once Epiales is subdued Nico and Will just choose to be nice to them; there's no benefit in it for them, it's not a ploy, they're just choosing to be kind. The bit where they pause to offer Epiales genuine compliments on their work is... honestly quite sweet, I love them actually taking that moment to say "No, no, that was really impressive, it was tough to get out of". There's a difference between being opponents and being enemies, and you can really see here how the boys don't see Epiales as an enemy now that they're not in their way. I also find myself wondering: does Epiales attack when they see Will hesitate because they think it's a moment of weakness they can take advantage of... or because it'll be better for them to get killed and resurrect than to admit to Nyx that they even semi-willingly let Nico and Will go, and they want to make it easier on Will to finish the job when it becomes clear he can't bring himself to do it without cause? Because honestly I feel like with the way Epiales interacts with the boys (and the way Nyx treats her children) it could go either way.

But there's another part of it that I find interesting, which is... if Nico had successfully tricked Epiales in that first instance, getting them to lower their guard through compliments and then cutting them down, there's a good chance Epiales wouldn't have turned against Nyx at the end. After all, why would they risk their mother's fury for the sake of people who tricked them? Just in general, it's a little unclear why Hypnos turns on Nyx (I think his part in things would've been a lot stronger if he'd actually... y'know, spoken to Nico and Will at any point), but the impression I get is that for Nemesis at least and likely Epiales too it is at least in part a genuine fondness for the boys. Which is something Epiales would not feel if instead of complimenting them and only blasting them to bits when they forced the issue the boys had tricked them in order to kill them quickly. It's like... tricking Epiales would've dealt with them quicker and more easily in the short term, but in the long term Nico failing to trick them and instead kicking their ass and then being nice about it worked out much better; instead of making an enemy, the boys got at worst a fairly neutral acquaintance out of it! Which, going back to how tricking Epiales would've been Percy's move, is really interesting when you compare Nico having a very unusual number of gods and other immortal beings in his corner to Percy making enemies wherever he goes. There really is something to Nico making so many powerful friends because he consistently chooses to be kind even though so often in people's POVs they go on about how creepy and weird he is. Although I do wonder sometimes if it's as simple as Nico legitimately just being a very kind person or if it's partially that he's just as cunning as Percy but more focused on the long-term than the short-term. If it's the latter it's probably a good thing for the monsters that they don't tend to directly work together, because Percy's knack for tricking gods and monsters to get the advantage in the short term to the point where he can win a fight against the god of war combined with Nico's knack for winning the affection and even loyalty of immortal beings in the long term to the point where he can essentially get divine intervention on his behalf for free would either be a total disaster for them or absolutely terrifying for their enemies. Either they'd cancel each other out or they'd just become utter nightmares to deal with (even more than they are already), which... honestly I would like to see either way.

Also I adore Nico lowkey fanboying over Epiales because he thinks they're just so cool. Even though the way Nico is clearly drawn to every nonbinary character he meets but is never confirmed nonbinary himself Irks Me. Rick, Mark, please give us this? It really felt like it was going that way, I would legitimately buy another spinoff solely for Nico being confirmed nonbinary.

[my-own-walker]

the jpm angst i'd like would have to be something about the reader leaving him ORRRRR james ( or the reader ) cheating? idk just some ideas!! <3

Not Strong Enough

note: sorry this took a sec! i am So Sleepy all the time rn

warnings: angst, talks of death and dying, feeling trapped in a relationship, JPM abandonment issues, sad themes of breaking up/leaving someone

+++

In the midst of life, we are in death. We see all who pass into the dwelling of death, never believing that we too, one day, will follow. We will all go with them and we have no control over when it may happen. But in special cases, we do.

We make small and big decisions every day that prolong our lives. We eat and drink because we choose to live. There are rules against driving under the influence and certain drugs because we want to live. Entire studies are done trying to find the secret to the longest life possible. We, at any time, have the power to make ourselves follow the others into the shadowy realm of death, yet we don't.

Why? It's uncertainty. We don't know what comes next. Life is far too precious to simply throw away, right? No one knows what comes next. Or if anything comes next. But I did.

I did. At least for the ghosts of the Hotel Cortez. The long-term residents, as they sometimes called themselves. They got to live on. And for some time, it gave me a strange sense of home.

When James and I began our relationship, he kept me on a short leash. I knew the truth all along. He was dead, eternally living in his state, bound to the very place he built. It seemed lonely. He wanted me to be in the hotel as much as humanly possible so that I could be with him. I moved into his suite.

All of this, though, to get me used to the place. I was kept from seeing the world so that I wouldn't miss it when he decided to finally kill me. Bound to him forever. Mates until our souls float off.

I knew what death would be for me. And I wanted so badly to do it for him. I loved him so much that I was willing to decide to shuffle off this mortal coil and into the forever purgatory of the hotel. But it simply became too much to bear. For, I had a family. A life before James. A love for meadows and trees and fresh-picked tulips. Running my hands along sun-bathed painted wood and cute wild animals.

In my time away from the hotel, that is where I would go. Anywhere with nature, untouched by man, touched by the beauty of flora and fauna staking their claim.

I couldn't make that decision. I couldn't die for him. I was not strong enough to be able to live, but not fully. See the world but through musty windows and the stories of passing guests.

James and I had dinner together every night. I sat across from him and dreamed of our life together. That began to fade, though. Rationality kicked in. The rose-colored glasses I had been seeing him through shattered. He loved me, but he wanted to control me. It was too much to bear.

+

I looked at him through the flames of the candles in the center of the table. He was looking down, eyes focused intensely on the task at hand. His brow was furrowed. He held a cigarette between his teeth and his silver lighter in his hand. It reflected the flickering lights of the flames onto the ceiling as he wielded it.

It made me sad to think that this would be the last time I would be doing this with him. I still loved him. But it made me even more sad to remember why it all had to stop. James took his first drag and puffed the smoke up into the air.

'You look unwell, dear,' he spoke, looking at me through his brow. 'Is everything alright?'

'Not exactly,' I muttered, casting my gaze down.

'Whatever is the matter?' he pried, sitting forward slightly in his chair.

'I'm not entirely sure how to say this,' I began, 'but, I'll be forthright with it. This is no longer working for me, James.'

'What isn't working for you?' he asked in reply.

'This,' I gestured grandly. 'All of this. I know what you want from me, and I love you, I do. But, I can't live like this. I need to leave.'

A dark expression came over his face. Then, one of sadness. He sat back in his chair and looked down at the table, flipping his lighter in his fingers, then tapping the table with it.

'I know you can make me stay,' I continued. 'You make this problem go away by killing me right now, but that's not what I want. And I have to trust that you'll respect my wishes.' I wasn't scared of him. He had told me time and time again that he only wanted what was best for me.

James looked like he was weighing his options. He didn't speak for a while, didn't even look up to meet my eyes.

'You are the love of my life, Y/N,' he said, finally. His voice cracked, and when he looked up at me, there were tears in his eyes. 'You cannot leave me.'

I stood and walked to his side of the table. James' eyes tracked me as I walked across the space. I stood just next to him, looking down at his crying form. I had never seen him like this. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him into my chest. It was an embrace we both needed.

He sniffled into me, burying his head into my dress.

'My love,' I cooed.

'I know what I need to do, but I can't do it,' he cried.

My stomach dropped. His intent was to kill me. My mind raced with ideas of ways to escape without him finding me. I separated myself from him and began to back away calmly.

'I need to let you go,' he uttered up at me. He stood and smoothed the front of his suit, then rubbed his eyes. 'I don't know why I am the way I am.

'Wh-what?' I stammered, steeling myself where I was standing. Was this a trick?

He stepped toward me and placed a hand on my cheek. 'I have a sick need to kill, and a sick need to control people. I love you too much to hurt you,' he explained lowly. 'I can't condemn you to a life like mine.'

Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn't believe what was happening. I wanted him. I wanted to be with him and love him forever. But that simply wasn't in the cards for the dead man and the girl who loved life and living.

'James,' I whispered. He pulled me into a tight embrace. The cradling kind that enveloped me in his warmth. 'I'm sorry,' I spoke into his chest.

'There is no need for apologies, dearest. I understand,' he murmured. He pulled back and held me at arm's length, taking me in one last time. 'Go.' He placed a kiss on my forehead and let go of me.

'I love you,' I said before turning away to walk out.

'I love you too,' he replied, his voice breaking yet again. 'And, Y/N?' I spun on my heel to face him. 'Don't ever come back here. I won't be able to control myself. Just, don't forget about me.'

I didn't answer. instead, I walked out of his suite's door, into the hallway, then into the elevator, and out of the lobby. As I stepped into the sunlight, I couldn't help but feel like I made the right decision. But a nagging feeling missed James more than I could handle.

+++

Don't you love when I wax poetic in my posts? I get so silly goofy talking about life and death all deep-like. LOLZ

[moviesludge]

its 7:00 am and i woke up to ur posts. Fuck that dentist

I hope I didn't put anybody out too much. Sometimes I forget how sparingly I post gore and stuff and I'm sure people follow me not even knowing that the stuff might show up sometimes. I guess I feel like it helps diminish the intense reality of it if I post a bunch of exaggerated stuff about it.

I don't have any hostility toward the dentist. The only gif caption that's kind of true of my feelings about my experience with my dentist is the one on the Terminator-esque robot from WAX MASK that says "this is how I'll look if my dentist has anything to do with it" because with all the work I need, sometimes it feels like they just want to pluck out all my teeth and put in dental implants. But the truth is that I've been a heavy soda drinker my whole life, and there was a fairly long period when I NEVER brushed my teeth. And then I finally got in the habit, but even then I wasn't going to regular dental visits, because my parents used to take care of it when I was little, and once I was off their insurance and working, I just didn't understand the importance of getting regular cleanings. If you're not having pain, it's easy to just ignore it and go about your life. And who really wants to go to the dentist?? So once I finally went in a few years ago, my teeth were pretty wrecked. But a lot of the damage has since been mitigated and thankfully, my insurance is covering everything they have planned so far. I remember hearing someone ask what are the chances your teeth will rot without dentist's cleanings, and the answer was 100%, no matter how diligent you are.

As for the dentist himself, I'm kind of on the fence about what to do. I'm pretty convinced that he's good at his job. I had a lot of work done by him in the fairly recent past (4 root canal/post/crowns) and it all went down very smoothly and as routinely as it seems possible, and it has all held up. I've asked a lot of questions and he's really patient and seems forthright about everything. Other than scheduling my initial appointment, the dental office has done everything I've asked of them. They emailed my xrays, made sure I had plenty of meds, and put the temp filling in that I asked for even though they didn't think it was going to hold (it didn't, but if they hadn't put it in, I probably would have been in pain for longer).

But just on the off chance that this is the type of place that finds/creates problems so they can make more money, I did look into what other dentists are available on my insurance, and the results weren't very heartening. There was one option that looked better than the others. Regardless of what happens during my next couple of visits to the current dentist, I can take my xrays and get a second opinion and explain the course of action that my current dentist took and see what they say. But also, I feel like the fact that they sent me the xrays at all sort of tells the story.

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

A Blue Bird and a Black Cat pt 15

(Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire)

ao3 Beginning Previous

Daisy wiped down the last table with a flick of her wrist and a small smile. All in all, she had a good life. She had a decent job. Her alters were getting along. She had good friends. What did she have to complain about? Life was good and…

“It’s happening again,” Batgirl was hovering over on the edges of their mind watching the flashing lights emanating from the building across the street.

“Can’t we just ignore them?” Marven whimpered.

“Marinette said she would look into it,” Daisy agreed.

“Marinette is busy,” Batgirl said. “Besides it will be good to give her more information.”

“This is bad, bad, bad, bad,” Marvel whimpered and he curled deeper into their mind, as if he could hide away from the world.

“Batgirl,” Daisy said firmly, which was new for her, “We have to listen to Marinette. She’s the one who actually knows what she’s doing, besides look what this is doing to Marvin!”

Batgirl sighed. This was new, for all of them. Originally, Jessica would have been the one to put their foot down, but ever since they tried integrating, Daisy had stepped up to fill the role. It was refreshing for Daisy, to be able to stand up for herself for once, to be a bit freer with her emotions. She had always been the happy go lucky alter, keeping them looking on the bright side of life. Now she could be forthright, and honest. She could stand up for herself even with the other alters. It gave her a surge of confidence, that had her singing a cheery tune through the rest of her shift.

In fact, she was so at ease that she barely noticed the fact that she was sliding back into her mind, and Batgirl was taking control, until they were crossing the street towards the cult’s basement. “Woah wait, Batgirl!” Daisy hissed. “We said we weren’t going to investigate!”

“I just want to see what they’re doing,” Batgirl insisted. “Besides, this will help Marinette. She’s so busy right now, and this will just take one thing off of her plate. Especially if it turns out to be nothing.”

“This is bad,” Marvin muttered. “Walk away! Walk away!”

Daisy groaned and went to comfort Marvin from where he was rocking himself in the recesses of their shared mind. She glared at Batgirl and said, “If we get hurt for this it will be your fault, and I am not covering for you with Marinette.”

Batgirl paused at that then shook her head. “I just want to peak. Then we’ll go straight home.”

She moved quietly through the street. She knew better to actually sneak around like they do in the movies. Pressing herself against the building, shirking in the shadows. She would only draw more attention to herself doing that. So as calmly and as quietly as she could, Batgirl pulled off her coat and then huddled into the corner of the stairs and the basement window, and draped her coat over herself as if she was bedding down for the night. Under the shadow of the coat she held up her phone, recording everything she saw and heard.

Peaking up over her shielding arm, Batgirl watched the cult assemble in their cliché blue robes and hoods. They gathered around a circle drawn into the floor, accept the symbols within it were not the voodoo symbols that Marinette had seen the last time they had investigated this group. No, these symbols were jagged and harsh, as if someone had carved them with a shard of glass into the stone.

The cult began their chanting and the symbols glowed blue, then green. Batgirl felt a shiver run down her spine. Marvin took her fear soundlessly and curled deeper within himself. Daisy hissed and demanded that Batgirl get them out of there. Batgirl wanted to listen to her system. She really did. But she was frozen on the spot, as the cult leader raised his hand, and sliced open his wrist. The blood poured out and swirled as if it were caught in the wind. The blood grew far beyond the amount the man was giving, and it twisted into the ghastly shape of a demon.

The demon was tall with horns like a bull coming from his skull, and eyes like black voids eating away at the red vortex that was his body. Batgirl couldn’t make much of him from the twisting movement of the liquid. But it was painfully clear that this thing was unnatural and dangerous. Then the being began to speak in a harsh guttural language, that grated on her ears and screeched in her mind. Batgirl recoiled in pain.

When Batgirl awoke, she was back in her apartment. The lights were on and dinner was cooking on the stove. Daisy was fronting as the news was playing in the background. She was vaguely aware of Marven curled in the corner of their mind shivering from their combined fear that none of them could take alone.

“What happened?” she groaned.

“You should have listened to Marinette,” Daisy whispered.

“What happened?”

Daisy sighed and said, “Marven took control. He was so scared, Batgirl, and you weren’t doing anything. So, he just ran. He almost got lost five times. It was all I could do to get him to let me front. Which is why we’re having his favorite tonight. And you are explaining yourself to Marinette. This was not ok Bats. You went to far this time.”

Batgirl slunk deeper into their mind in shame, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Marven whimpered. “Just listen to us. We’re a system right? We have to work together!”

Daisy smiled, as Batgirl stopped retreating. “Come on,” she said, “I’m starving. We’ll call Marinette in the morning.”

---------------

“She’s my chosen!” Nooroo cried.

“No, she’s mine!” Duusu cried as they chased each other around the apartment.

“What are they arguing about again?” Trixx muttered from her food induced comma.

“Raven,” Sass sighed. “They still haven’t decided which one of them gets to choose her.”

“Seriously?” Trixx demanded sitting up. “Can’t they, you know just flip a coin or something?”

“She’s an empath!” Duusu cried, “I’m the kwami of emotion! We’re perfect for each other!”

“You have Alfred!” Nooroo shouted, “You can’t have two chosen!”

“They tried that,” Mullo said with a sigh, “But that still didn’t work.”

“How long are they going to be at this?!” Plagg groaned, “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

“Hey,” Longg said floating up to the lounging kwami, “Do you think the Guardian has noticed the second fluid soul yet.”

“Probably,” Sass said thoughtfully, “I’m more interested in learning if she’s found holders for the rest of us…or at least solved what she’s going to do with those two.”

“Raven’s my chosen!”

“No, she’s mine!”

“I saw her first!”

“You did not!”

The kwami groaned as the two chased each other through the plants and furniture, carless of who or what they were disturbing. “I know!” Roaar cried, “They can fight it out!”

“No!” the rest of the kwami cried.

“Just wait for the Guardian, she’ll figure it out,” Mullo said.

“Yes,” Kaalki declared, “Our Guardian will do what’s best for us. She always has.”

“So have any of you seen holders you might like?” Fluff asked chipperly.

“I like that Beast Boy,” Xuppu cried flying up.

“That young Robin seems to have the proper degree of sophistication to be a part of my hive,” Pollen said thoughtfully.

“You mean a member of my herd,” Kaakli said with narrowed eyes.

“Oh no,” Sass muttered.

Wayze flew between them saying, “I like Red Hood. His protective instincts will make him a fine turtle.”

“I think,” Roaar said flying up to him, “What you meant to say was, that his ferocity would make him a fine Tiger!”

“I thought you liked Spoiler?”

“What?!” cried Trixx suddenly very much awake, “No! Spoiler is mine! I can work with purple! Just watch, she’ll be my best Fox yet!”

Sass groaned. He held his head in his flippers as the kwami dissolved into arguments around him. “Hurry Marinette, I don’t think I can take much more of this bickering without going insane!”

Plagg just rolled on the table cackling at the chaos.

--------------------------

“Hm,” Tim hummed as he squinted down at the screen in front of him.

“What’s up Replacement?” Jason said sliding onto the couch next to him. “I thought you would be down in the cave by now. Isn’t Ladybug joining the JL today or something.”

“They’re meeting isn’t until three,” Tim said as he continued scrolling.

“Then what’s got you in detective mode?”

“This,” Tim said shifting his computer so Jason could see the charity website that he had been pursuing.

“I don’t get it,” Jason said with a shrug, “What’s so dangerous about Gotham’s Homeless Shelters is it fake.”

“Not that I can tell,” Tim said sipping his coffee, “One of my friends introduced me to it. A Wayne Gala friend.”

“Ah,” Jason said nodding in understanding, “Suck up, or Actually a Decent Human Being?”

“Decent Human Being,” Tim said, “Which is why I decided to check it out. But then I saw their donors list.” He clicked on the link and Jason’s eyes bulged.

“Ok,” he said, “I know I’m not the most in touch with the ‘Wayne’ side of things, but even I know that half of these names are money grubbing suck ups. What’s got people like Silvers donated hundreds of thousands to charity? Blackmail?”

Tim shrugged as he sipped his coffee, “No clue. But I’ll tell you this, whoever their coordinator is must be one hell of a sales person.”

“Does it say?”

“Um…yeah, I guess the next time we’re at a gala we better keep an eye out for Lila Rossi.”  

Taglist @tails-and-scales @the-ghost-trader @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @the-dumber-scaramouche @yoonjae20 @robyalix @seraphichana @iglowinggemma28 @taewinterbear95 @heretopasstimebi @littleblue5mcdork @quotesandanime @komatsuna-yuki @attractivemyfoot @deathssilentapproach-blog @vel-vee @vixen-uchiha @lady-bee-fechin @qualityhistorygamingwinner @its-maemain  @meira-3919 @raven-ette @doglover82 @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @laurcad123 @crazylittlemunchkin @iamablinkmarvelarmy

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I am not sure why you think the things Louis has said about the band breaking up doesn’t make sense. If you ignore Larry and assume what people have said is true, it makes sense to me. You get Harry asking for a break at the end of 2014. A decision to release their last album but not tour it in 2015. “People” (probably Harry) not wanting to sign contracts. Presumably either to tour at a later date or to record, it doesn’t really matter which.

Zayn and Louis had the same information but reacted to it differently. Zayn, who had an expectation that he would be well received as a solo artist, saw “people” not wanting to re-sign as the end of the band and decided to leave early to get an early start to a solo career. Louis, who has no expectation of a performing career outside the band, was in denial. He said he saw Zayn leaving 6 months later as the beginning of the end. I don’t think Louis was lying about those conversations hitting him hard. You can see he was under stress at the end of 2014 by looking at pictures of him from that time.

You were right that we cannot know who knew what and when. At the same time, Zayn basing his actions on assumptions suggests “people” were not being forthright about their plans.

It’s not like Harry did anything wrong by going solo But there’s so much twisting of words and facts to absolve him of the responsibility for making Louis and other people (including fans) unhappy when that isn’t possible. Harry going solo was always going to make people who wanted the band to stay together unhappy as a natural consequence. Harry’s decision doesn’t need to be defended by dismissing people who were impacted by it.

I've been reasonably clear about what I think doesn't make sense about the way Louis talks about 1D breaking up. He runs together his experience of the decision that the band were not going to tour and his experience when touring stopped. Often when he talks it's not clear which one he is talking about - even though they were probably separated by more than a year and quite a lot happened in between. I think it's a perfectly normal way for him to talk about his life, but I do think there are huge pieces missing.

There are things I'd like to know his perspective on for example, did he really think that 1D was capable of keeping on touring by the end of 2015? Lima wasn't in very good shape and wasn't doing well with touring.

Then you have Louis saying Zayn leaving was the beginning of the end - but the question of not touring in 2016 had already been raised and probably decided.

Then you have Zayn saying that papers weren't being signed - I'm interested in what those papers could be? Was it around touring? Was there a period of not signing before Harry actually brought it up (that wouldn't surprise me). Or were these papers eventually signed (like the UK dates for 2015).

It's because I'm interested in the details of what happened when that I notice when there's questions about what people are actually talking about. I think they're all saying things that are emotionally true, but they're also both consciously leaving elements out, and also not that clear on the timeline (because that's how we remember our lives)

You may see this through absolving Harry or not - but that's not the framework I'm working under. None of this makes any difference to how I see Harry's actions (I think it's really important that people are able to leave jobs).

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2023!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

___

172. The Delicious Death by Kayla Cottingham--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

THIS DELICIOUS DEATH fell more prominently into my TBR list because of a friend who read it and made it look like a really good and bloody time. She wasn't wrong!

I was so surprised by this one (mainly because I took a bite out of it without reading the synopsis first), so I was thoroughly entertained. I didn't know how normalized the horrors of this book were, so that was a unique and fun reveal. I think it was such a good exploration of how the world treats people that don't fit into the "typical" human category. The fear and the exclusionary actions of some of the characters were very on the nose when we think about today's society.

I enjoyed the twists and turns and how these girls fought to save each other and others like them. They didn't depend on men to help them--they were total bad asses. They were just a little hungrier than most badasses, and you know what? That's perfectly fine.

I also find it strangely timely (for when I read it) that these catastrophic events take place during a huge musical festival when the events of Burning Man were happening. It was an interesting and totally coincidental line up of events.

Also, love, LOVE the romance in this and how diverse it was. And the flashbacks, although sometimes a pet peeve for me, really helped me understand why some of the characters were the way they were.

Finally, this book really made me think of GIRLS SAVE THE WORLD IN THIS ONE by Ash Parsons. If you enjoy this one as much as I did, I think you'll enjoy that one!

___

173. Stiff by Mary Roach--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I was really excited to read this one because I've heard really good things about Mary Roach. And while I DID enjoy this for the most part, it got to a certain point where I kind of just wanted it to end.

The first half was really interesting. It was morbid, but I've never been too squeamish when it comes to the topic. We are all temporarily in these bodies and when we leave, our bodies are left behind. So, learning what we can learn from those bodies and how they're treated was fascinating. There was humour thrown in there to break up the dark tension and I really appreciated it. There was also a lot of historical research about grave digging and how certain practices have been adopted over the years.

But then the second half started and I just...I'll admit, my attention started to turn away from Roach's words and my interest started to wane. Just goes to show that even though these topics have always made me wish I had more aptitude for the sciences, my attention would never linger long enough to fulfill such fanciful futures LOL.

Anyway, this was good overall--even with that latter half (for me). I think this is a great Autumn read. You get to learn some neat stuff and get the sometimes creepy forthrightness of science.

___

174. Fall of Ruin & Wrath by Jennifer L. Armentrout--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I received a copy of this book from the publisher because I interviewed the author for Indigo on Instagram. This did not affect my review in any way.

I usually read books like this one as audiobooks because my attention strays so much now that I'm older. So, I was a little wary because I had to read this by a deadline AND I had to read the physical copy. I was so happy to see how easily the story pulled me in and how addicted I was to the story.

I loved the main character and her energy--it gave me huge flashbacks to when I read Armentrout's books in the past and how addicted I was to them. There's just something always so compelling and addicting about her writing. I especially loved how the MC spoke her mind and was honest with herself about what she wanted and needed to survive.

When the love interest came in, I was even more hooked. I LOVED the sexual tension and how he was so unapologetically himself. Listen, I have acknowledged that what would normally be red flags in real life are very green flags (sometimes) in books like this one because, sigh. This love interest can get it.

There were other pretty cool things about this book, like how we learn about why the world is the way it is and the power of the natural world around the characters. I also felt like the story, even though it's mainly set in one place, was so compellingly written that it didn't need too much complication settings-wise.

My one complaint is the over-use of the ellipsis punctuation. The story was great, but some pages had at least two instances of...the character...talking...like...this...or describing...describing something...something like this. For me, it ruined the flow of writing and even if the scene happening was a serious or emotionally-charged one, I was taken right out and found myself giggling at yet another ellipsis.

My biggest way of recommending this book for reluctant readers is that it very much gave me SJM vibes, so if you're a fan of her fantasy romance books, then you might like this. I had a lot of fun and the spicy moments were very, very fun.

___

175. The Stranger by K.A. Applegate--⭐️⭐️⭐️

While I found this instalment to be one of my least favourites, I DO see the importance of it.

THE STRANGER is a perfect example of how these are just kids who are fighting a nearly impossible war. They are given the opportunity to either stop what they're doing, or keep going and honestly, what do you think you'd do if given that opportunity?

As the story progresses and the stakes rise, we are constantly being reminded that these are kids.

I'm still incredibly excited to keep seeing where this series takes me. The books are short, but they pack some pretty great messages.

___

176. Go Down Hard by Ali Seay--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

My friends have read and loved this book and I can completely see why.

This book was so much fun. I know that this is horror, but I was so entertained by the one-liners and the comedic timing. Also, what are the chances of a woman serial killer moving in next door to a men who is also a serial killer?

I also loved how he eventually showcases why she is the way she is and that despite all the stoicism and the mask some people wear, people like him are all the same in the end. The cat and mouse game between the two characters really emphasized this point and made it even more entertaining to me, as a woman.

I highly recommend this one for those who want to read horror novellas, but are wary of gory horror. Yes, there is murder, but the social commentary and icky factor of this man makes this book more than worthy enough for the horror category!

Also, not to mention how ADDICTING this book was. I had to put the book down because I had to get up early the next day. So worth the sleepless night, though.

Never have I rooted for a serial killer before. Oop.

___

177. Landbridge by Y-Dang Troeung--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was one of the more creative memoirs I've had the pleasure of reading. The text was full of photography and was cut into, as the title describes, fragments. It was incredibly readable and I enjoyed learning more about the heartbreaking history of Cambodia, and the reality of life as an immigrant in Canada in the '80s.

I think, however, that my absolute favourite part of this text (as heartbreaking as it is) were the letters Troeung wrote for her son. They were moments and thoughts captured in time that he can one day look back on whenever he thinks of his mother. While the rest of the text had really important experiences and histories retold, even personal experiences, it was these snippets that capture my heart.

The author's story is heartbreaking and that dedication at the end broke me, especially knowing just how important those letters will now be to her son.

I highly recommend "Landbridge" for anyone who enjoys reading immigrant memoirs and for those who want to open their world up a little more. Not only does this explore the grief one might experience over a country your family had to leave, but you will be a part of the living grief the author shared with the reader in the letters for her son. Gorgeous and heart shattering.

___

178. The Murders of Molly Southbourne by Tade Thompson--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I LOVED this one. The writing, off the bat, was incredibly compelling and addicting. It felt beautiful and full of so many things I wanted to highlight. The story idea is so unique and had some genuinely terrifying moments.

What would you do if your blood was enough to create clones of you almost instantly--murderous clones that hated you?

There were searing moments of sadness where I grieved with the mc, and moments where I laughed until tears came to my eyes because she's so socially awkward.

This being a novella also made this a super quick and addicting read.

Immediately ordered the next two books and will hopefully read them soon!

___

179. Dead to the World by Charlaine Harris--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Re-read in September 2023-

Oh Eric, the things that happen to you. I was a little wary going back into this one because I vaguely remembered what happened with Eric, but I was happily surprised and thoroughly entertained. For once, Sookie got to have a hot girl summer moment with the vampire. Screw Bill.

We get to meet a character in this one who will also change Sookie's life forever and I'm exciting to re-explore that world with her. This is where the story starts to truly get more and more fun!

Also, I was hella looking forward to that conclusion. Iykyk.

___

Have you read any of these books? Let me know your thoughts!

___

Happy reading!

[altaniadventures]

Do you wanna?

A short story set during Shadowbringers. This would be before the Exarch reveals himself. Spoilers for Shadowbringers. Altani and the Exarch have a chat after all the Scions have left for bed.

AltaniWOLxGrahatia

-------

"So, did you want to fuck?"

The Exarch sputtered, not able to answer Altani. She'd waited till the last of the scions left and shut the door. After a few beats alone, she'd asked that.

His knuckles were turning white from his grip on his staff. After trying to collect his composure, he eloquently replied, "What?"

"I've seen you staring at me," she replied. "I'm not offended. You get real close to me sometimes, and then you back away. I can't see your face due to your hood, but I know I was right." She grinned at him, showing off her sharp teeth. "You wouldn't be so embarrassed otherwise."

The Exarch cleared his throat, grateful that the hood would obscure the flush he felt rising up his neck. "Perhaps I am simply surprised at such a forthright request, and unsure why you would be asking me that question. Why would you want to? I am a stranger to you."

Altani sat down on the floor, her back against the wall. She patted the ground. Seeing the Exarch's hesitation, she patted the ground again, more insistently this time. Finally, he sat down next to her. He bowed his head, careful to ensure she wouldn't see despite the proximity. "Can I ask you why?"

She drew her knees up and rested her arms on top of them. The brash warrior in front of him seemed to shift. He saw the weariness in her movements, the tension in her shoulders. Her smile felt heavy. The feral fire that he associated with her seemed to have dimmed. What happened to his warrior of light?

"When I look at you, you seem as lonely as I feel," she said softly.

The Exarch turned to look at her, surprised once again.

Altani smiled. "I know. I'm surrounded by Scions every moment of every day. When it's not them, it's just normal people begging for my help. I'm never alone." Her smile started to fade into a bitter frown. "But that's it, isn't it? I'm always alone. No one else can do it. No one else can stand where I stand. I stand alone between whatever worlds-ending destruction and everyone else. They try to help me, but they can't."

She sighed deeply. "I guess it's because you're technically a stranger that I'm telling you this. You're like me. You're here in this horrible situation, trying to save the world. You remind me of someone else. I suppose that's why I trust you, despite Yshtola and Alphinaud begging me to be cautious," she added, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't know you were hurting so badly," the Exxarch said quietly.

"Stop that," she chided. "I asked because this makes me feel less alone. I know we want to save everyone, and damn it all, we're going to try. However, I know that despite my efforts, sometimes-" She looked at him, and leaned in to bump his shoulder. "You've studied me, right? My exploits? My adventures?"

He wasn't sure where this was going. "Yes?"

She continued. "Well, What would you say my first personal loss was?"

Puzzled, he answered, "Perhaps the battle against Ifrit? The tempered there? Or maybe the raiding of Vesper Bay."

She chuckled darkly. "That's a good guess, Exarch, but you forget that I am a child of the Steppe. We were raised for war. Comrades falling in battle is my life. It is sad, it is tragic. I take it personally, but it is not personal." Altani stretched her arms and leaned her back fully against the wall. "I don't tell the scions this, because I know it makes me somewhat of a monster. That's why I'm so good at war. Losing makes me angry. Losing soldiers is upsetting because that means we're not winning. I was very angry after losing the sands, but I can't remember any of their faces anymore," she admitted. "It feels sad in the way you hear about an earthquake in a distant land. Tragic, but far away. Guess again."

The Exarch thought for a moment. "If not that, then perhaps the battle of the vault? The death of Sir Haurchefant Greystone."

Altani was quiet. "That's an even better guess, and a loss that still grieves me. I have many regrets about Haurchefant, but no. He wasn't the first. The first was a man I met when I was hired to assist with the excavation of the Crystal Tower."

He cleared his throat. "Ah, I don't recall reading about that. Do you mind telling me?"

She smiled. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who remembers him. It would probably piss him off, the little braggart.

The Exarch coughed, indignant. "Altani, that seems unkind for a man you claim to be a personal loss," he reprimanded.

"My taste in men leaves much to be desired," she said with a grin before continuing. "His name was G'raha Tia. I was still making a name for myself then. Cid was trying to get into this strange tower close to Mor Dhona. This mi'quote I had never met before basically dared me to go get the components needed to open the gates. I didn't know it at first, but he was working with the Students of Baldesion. He gave them a silly name after some dead guy, NOAH. We worked together for a few months trying to get to the top."

Altani laughed at the memories. "We used to get on each other's nerves badly! He wanted to be an adventurer, and I used to tease him about being a nerd. He was a researcher, but was always telling me that he was going to surpass me in strength. He never won a single arm-wrestling match with me at camp. He'd get so red trying. It matched his hair," she said softly. "He wanted so bad to one-up me I felt. All he wanted was to be like me, and I was jealous of him."

He blinked. "You were jealous of him?"

"Yes. He was so smart. He would tell me all about the history of the towers, and how the magical devices worked. I could barely understand some of it." She brushed some of her braids behind her ear sheepishly. "I was hired to be muscle. I'm always the brute strength. You know, I didn't know how to read Eorzean when I joined the Scions. It made me feel so stupid. Here was this little annoying genius following me around all day, telling me that he was going to be better than me at the one thing I was good at." Altani sighed. "Anyone can learn to fight. But not everyone is smart enough to do what he was doing." She leaned against the Exarch, and this time he did not lean away. "But over time, I came to understand him a little more. We were sitting at the campfire, bickering about something. Cid was ignoring us. The whole camp did. Over the weeks, they'd gotten used to it. I don't even remember what we were fighting about. What I remember is falling asleep. I woke up first, and he'd fallen over into my lap. I can remember his red hair falling back from his face, and he looked so peaceful. His ears slightly twitching from a dream. It was at that moment I knew that I loved him."

He waited for her to continue, but Altani was quietly lost in her thoughts. Her tail lazily swishing was his only clue that she was still awake. "Altani?" She sighed. "He woke up and we didn't talk about it. That day we made it to the top." Altani closed her eyes. "He had to seal the tower to protect everyone. He sealed himself inside the tower. I couldn't save him. Do you know he had the balls to smile at me when he closed the doors? He fucking smiled at me. The doors shut and I stayed out there banging on them for 3 days, sobbing. Cid and Nero had to drag me away." Altani leaned her head on the Exarch's shoulder. She could feel him stiffen, then slowly relax. "As you know, that was just the first. There was Haurcefant after that. Then it seemed like my friends were dying left and right. Moenbryda, Papalymo, Ysayle. I'm always alone. I'm afraid that I will die alone. I just don't want to feel alone, even if it is true. When I'm close to you, I feel like I'm not alone." She cleared her throat. "So, I'm asking you again. Do you want to fuck? I can wear a blindfold if that will make you more comfortable." He knew that in his heart of hearts, this was a terrible idea. He shouldn't do this. He was lying to her, getting close to her despite Urianger's warnings against it. She would be furious if she knew. Then again, if all went according to plan, she would never know. She thought him a stranger, and yet she still bared her heart to him. She was telling him things he knew she would never speak of to the rest of the Scions. He was her only confidant in a strange land that he'd brought her to. Would it be wrong to give her the only thing she'd ever asked of him? The Exarch stood up. Altani stood to leave as well, but felt a hand catch hers as she turned. "I'm just as lonely as you say," he said quietly. "If you'll have me." He pulled off one of the smaller sashes off his robe and handed it to her.

She smiled softly and tied it around her eyes. "Lead the way, handsome." She felt warm hands gently lead her to the bedroom. The soft click of the Exarch's bedroom door shut behind her and she was seated at the edge of a bed. He sat down next to her.

G'raha let his hood slip as he let his fingers brush against her cheek. "You don't have to be alone. I'll be with you for as long as you need me, Altani," he whispered.

She kissed him, her fingers tangling up in his long hair. For a moment, she was taken back to a campfire. She smiled. "Thank you."

[boi-muppet]

On Today's Menu: Gaslighting

On today's episode of #datinginmy30s we discuss gaslighting. Buckle in because this one can give ya whiplash.

---

The Sunday before last I meet up with a new human - we'll call him The PODling. We meet for coffee at 12 and proceed to walk around this adorable harbor town for SEVEN AND A HALF HOURS. At no point was this man trapped and I even asked a few times if he'd like to hit up another spot or part ways for the day. This point will be valid later. After, I text and say I had a great time, would love to see him again, AND that I was too chicken to ask if I could kiss him. He said Tuesday works and that he would have said yes FYI.

Monday we proceed to text a bit where we say nice things and he tells me that he's distracted at work daydreaming about our walk together etc etc. and what wine he will bring over the next day. He also tells me that he told his housemates (POD) about me and that they want to meet me. I said it was up to him...to which he said "Hopefully sooner rather than later" and suggested Thursday. Sure.

Tuesday comes around and he shows up, we have dinner, we get cuddly and do some making out. At SEVERAL points I draw attention to the time as he wakes up super early for work. He says - and I quote "No. I'm an adult and I want to keep doing what we are doing here." Great. You got it bud. I was not upset as he had shown himself to be a solid kisser.

Wednesday he tells me that he wore the shirt to work that he wore to see me the night before because it smells like me...and that it made his day better. He also calls me amazing and a variety of other sweet things.

Thursday I get to his place. He's cuddly, and affectionate physically and verbally. Imeet his housemates for a little about an hour and then him and I do some sexy/flirty things for the rest of the night. He tells me he likes me a fuck ton and that this has gone faster than he expected. I very openly ask if he wants to slow down/back off to which he says "Absolutely not." I stay the night because it was late and an hour's drive home.

Friday *BOOM*. Something has changed. He's not as responsive, is being odd, and is just different. To be honest, I get solid flashbacks of my ex and I'm really not jazzed. I give him a 50/50 chance that he'll run away by the end of the weekend.

Saturday I am running around on errands and he is doing housework with his POD. He sends me pics and includes me in his day. Ok great. Later that night they all start drinking and apparently talk about me. Keep in mind at this point I have seen him three times and met most of them for less than 60 minutes. They are discussing my 'top energy.' This is weird for me but I will discuss that later. He tells me that they all like me and that they would love to have me around. Great. What about you bud? He basically says that it has happened faster and sooner than he was expecting and that he'd like to slow down. All good by me bud

He gives a few more comments that get odd about how he wasn't expecting me to be so "overwhelmingly forthright with complements." Bud, I told you I liked you and you asked me to elaborate. SO I DID. What were you expecting? Lies? For me to be an ass?

Then he said something about planning vacations together - duder...I'm going on vacation with or without you. I offered you to MAYBE one and we even decided that wasn't a great plan so that isn't happening. What's your deal? I get a few more of these and finally decide to tell him that I just thought we were excited about each other. That's as far as I had gone.

His response "I am sure that I was just riding your high. You were so excited about me that I wanted to match it. You even commented on how I wasn't excited"

I said no such thing. Are you REALLY trying to tell me that this is all in my head?

Buddy, I was born at night but it wasn't last night. That's gaslighting. If you wanted to go slower or were scared of your feelings, fine, but don't go trying to make me think I'm crazy and made it all up instead of facing your own shit.

[the-firebird69]

You have several characters and one of them was Rodney well it was really Ryan and you were the one who was sitting the dinner table and they knew who you were he was sitting there pestering him about his illness that you caused with risperdal and Prilosec and you caused it in tons of the higher ups and the other one who did the surgery because Sherry was found out and she was found out in American werewolves in London and BG is the one who knows because CAA said that's the girl from one flow of the cuckoo's nest and it's Sherry and they did the surgeries and she turned States evidence and says it wasn't me it wasn't my idea and she had or he had Jack Nicholson choke me out so I allowed it to happen I did a lot of damage to you higher ups I'll say that but I didn't do it and I was forced to assist so I guess I'm complicitous but really what are you going to do against the bully like him who has all these clones already and he did start in westborough and I know where it's near the state hospital and he went in there and he's trying to get him out nobody would let him out so he started hitting people and yeah he ran over the guy with the pickup truck that's in super 8 he ran over the worker and that was Ken Baker and he's a higher up Sherry says. The huge number of times you mess with him and you're ruining things that they need and it's because you're young and your Chris bossy and your Ozzy Osbourne and you are on crack and cocaine and alcohol and you're not very bright and you're not old some of the stuff that Tommy Allen knows would blow you away on things you're messing up it's going to be proven too I'm sure you want to Max monsters who wants to turn around but you messed him up really bad a lot of people suspect it was you they can't tell who did it because they don't see it in the film they only see the retards and Trump holding you down and zapping your frontal lobe. And our son says there are some visitors and their agents and that was him and they arrested Trump pulled him out and did the surgery and that's what Sherry testified to and she'll probably get hurt but it's not going to be by them and they said it they said you were forthright and you came forward and we know what your situation and status is it's similar to his no and similar to most women you're powerless I took guts to do and she's under witness protection

Bitol and Goddess Wife

If issued several APB and Watson you stand we've already done the research you're a huge a****** and you influenced Billy z to do what he did and your clones fought and they're still fighting and you're beating each other up in the streets and your animals and it's too much we need you out of here and this is crap but we're going to arrest you and interrogate you and we need to know about the light computers and Alexander if you did that to them so help me God you're so dead.

Mac

I do know who that is in space Odyssey 2001 is John remillard he says it's probably him or did it we do understand something he was killed that day we think and nobody's admitted it but nobody knows and they do incinerate people in a different building I did look like the one in the movie and we thought that was Ernie and he says it probably was but now Arnie is missing. It's true is he showed up near the sheriff's office and so I was making him jealous and we found you behind him found a lot of people there your cohorts the other massive cloners it's a crime cloning is illegal I'm saying this to DC we need assistance this is terrible I'm saying to bite him too because my grand nephew requests it

Mac Daddy

[bengiyo]

Takara-kun & Amagi-kun Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Excited to be back with this show! I wonder what major emotional block ever person has to tackle we'll explore this week?

Ah, the way the shame society uses to pressure families to stick together can other the children who are not responsible for their parents' failing marriage, and how that creates an indefinable sense of worthlessness in them from a young age. Cool. I'm not emotional in the first minute.

I love how forthright Takara has become about Amagi's wellbeing. Also love him reiterating that he doesn't feel a personal need to be Amagi's only support system.

Oriyama Nao has incredible control of his facial expressions. I don't think Amagi would work if he couldn't pull off these small shifts in his face and posture. It's really something to behold, and I get why people were so excited about these two and the agency they're from.

Amagi and Katori have a great friendship. I wonder when the other guy will come back into the picture.

I don't know who was involved in the character choices about Amagi's laughs, but they were correct.

I really love Takara. Amagi asked him to sit next to him and backseat game, and Takara refused immediately because he personally would find that annoying. However, he recognized that he was projecting onto Amagi and decided to honor the request. I have so many questions about how he was raised and became this way.

Lol. Of course Amagi can't focus now. This show is so clever y'all.

These Japanese baths look very comfortable, but I really need to see a drain for all this water constantly spilling out. I know for a fact that Japan has termites, so they have to managing the excess moisture near the structure.

Amagi is so angular and goofy. It's endearing, and I can appreciate Takara's attraction.

I do like that Amagi is considering the expectations Takara might have for a sleepover. I don't always like when characters are surprised about a sexual advance that they probably should have anticipated.

I don't read fanfiction, but if one of you writes a fic about Dean and Pharm watching this scene where Takara pulls Amagi's hand to his face, please tag me??

They are both so furtive about the unspoken parameters of this sleepover. I do like when the teens feel like teens.

Love that Amagi called the foreplay what it was. Love Takara's lack of shame. Love Takara backing off when he recognized Amagi was uncomfortable. Love Amagi explaining his reluctance. Love Amagi wanting to understand what will happen before he jumps into intimacy. This was excellent.

I wish I could squat like Asian people can. We don't get these kind of shots in America where one person can squat in front of their love interest dramatically.

Love Takara's reassurance to Amagi. Curious about what's going on with him about his sexual experience. Is he also inexperienced, or is he perhaps embarrassed?

Amagi's relief that they didn't do something he was nervous about and his guilt that they didn't is so real, and I don't think I've ever seen a show admit that particular feeling openly. I feel like I'm going to have to write a separate post altogether, or follow up someone else's fantastic post about how consent is really complicated sometimes. Yes, they did the right things here by not having sex, but it doesn't mean they also don't feel a strange sense of disappointment that they didn't. I'm about to ascend.

Oh no, Amagi's tears of frustration at being what he considers to be a bad lover is gonna break me.

Oh my goodness, the internal scene of Takara considering sharing a bed with Amagi was great. Good reminder that he's also brimming with desire for Amagi; he's just stoic.

LOL. I love Tanaka's reaction to Takara. Again, I like that we acknowledge the desire Takara has, and that he's exercising immense self control right now. Maybe he should talk to Pastor George.

Takara's legs folded up is not subtle and I like it.

I can't believe this show and Minato's Laundromat are airing at the same time. We've never been this blessed.

[shewholovestoread]

I LOVE how you take and break down, not just the scenes of the show but also these characters!! What did you think of the scene where Dani shows up at Gigi's office & Gigi gives her an excuse but Dani straight up calls her out on it by saying "maybe you just didn't want to see me" Do you think Gigi was surprised by that? Cause I personally think she wasn't expecting Dani to come and apologize but she loved every minute of it when she did

Hi Anon,

I think in the scene preceding that, the one where Dani storms out, mirrored Gigi's last night with Bette a little too closely:

I think Gigi goes to work, trying to get over the hurt because what happened with Dani cut deeper, Gigi's more involved, I think she's already in love with Dani but hasn't realized it yet. Both, Dani and Bette women came to Gigi, eager to get their minds off whatever was bothering them- Dani was angry at Bette and Bette was trying to get over Pippa's refusal to work with her while also attracted to her. And both women, just left her, without any regard for her feelings and I think in that moment, Gigi decided that she had had enough, she wasn't going to just sit around and wait for Dani to come around, if she ever did. She was done playing second fiddle to whatever was going on in their lives.

I don't think Gigi expected Dani to come and apologise. I think after what happened with Bette, Gigi wanted to protect herself but was pleasantly surprised when Dani did come.

Dani's cooled off and I think she didn't expect Gigi to react the way she did. In the time that they've spent together, Gigi has always been there for her, supporting her so when she didn't show up, it made Dani pay attention, I think it made her realise the gravity of her mistake. It wasn't just that she snapped at Gigi but she shut her out at the first sign of a problem, the very thing that Bette did.

It's also worth noting that they're still having a conversation, a similar situation with Dani x Sophie or Gigi x Bette would have dissolved into a full-fledged fight/screaming match. When Dani says, "Or you just didn't want to see me." I don't think she actually expected Gigi to say what she did, she's not used to someone being that forthright and it takes her back and makes her realise that her actions really hurt Gigi.

But Dani's determined to convince Gigi that she is sorry about what happened and goes even further, she gives her a peace-offering and when called out on her lack of an actual apology, she does apologise, without offering any excuses for her behaviour. And Dani's so adorable in that moment that Gigi can't help but melt.

Can we take a moment and appreciate just how soft these women are for each other, ugh... making me yearn for this shit in my life...

Anyway, Gigi's confession about not being good with the whole hot and cold thing drives Dani to explain why she reacted the way she did. I think, in that moment, she was scared that Gigi thought she wasn't serious about the relationship and she didn't want any misunderstandings standing in their way.

Having said that, Gigi's not so ready to let Dani off the hook, note their body language here, Dani's sitting, leaning forward, towards Gigi. But Gigi's still seated on her side of the desk, behind her laptop, almost using it as a shield, her body's still but her eyes are tracking Dani. She's listening, waiting to hear what Dani has to say.

She finally shuts her laptop when she sees how hard it is for Dani to speak about her father and we see a shift in her body language, now she's leaning forward too, fully engaged with what Dani's saying.

I love how Gigi's so attuned to Dani, noticing every little tick, and she's very aware of Dani's discomfort, she sees her fidgeting but doesn't say anything, letting Dani set the pace of their conversation. I love that Gigi doesn't prod Dani for answers, instead she gives Dani her side, explaining that her dad was the same, overbearing, protective and with a messed-up way of showing his love for his daughter. I think it was important for Dani to hear that, to know that they have overbearing, controlling fathers in common and that Gigi really does understand what she's talking about because she's been through the same thing and come out stronger on the other side. And more than that, she understands that it's impossible for Dani to separate him from the rest of her life, he's her father and an integral part of her life.

When Dani tells her that part of the way she reacted that way she did was borne out of her embarrassment that Gigi saw how she let her father treat her and Gigi's such an amazing partner, she immediately goes and sits next to Dani and asks if she caused that reaction. I love that she checks in with Dani.

I think Dani's pretty touch starved, it's safe to assume that her dad wasn't physically affectionate and from what we saw of her relationship with Sophie, they weren't too physically affectionate either. Dani herself doesn't strike me as someone who's physically demonstrative of her affections. Gigi's the opposite, she's so much more physically affectionate, it's almost her love language (that and food/tea) I love Dani's little frown here when Gigi takes her hand, like she can't figure why Gigi's doing that. She's not used to touch, touch that's meant to reassure and offer comfort. Touch that conveys love but isn't sexual. It's also how Gigi always manages to calm Dani down, her touch grounds Dani, giving her an anchor, something tangible to hang on to.

Things look up from here, Dani's happy that she stood up to her father, she's proud of herself and she credits Gigi and it makes sense. She can stand up to him because now she has someone in her corner, someone who's love and support is unconditional, someone who asks Dani to put herself first, prioritise herself and her own well-being. I don't think she's ever had that before.

By the end of that exchange, Gigi can't help but lean in, she's drawn in by Dani's almost childlike exuberance. That "I sure do I like you" is more like an "I love you", but I think she avoids saying it because it is too soon but she's already fallen and fallen hard. I love Dani being cheeky and teasing Gigi but what I love even more is her gaze, drinking Gigi in. If Gigi's already in love then Dani's not too far behind.

[ladybookstan]

Nestaq Appreciation✨

Synopsis: A post entirely dedicated to Sartaq and Nesryn, presenting the facts that show that these characters, this couple, deserve more recognition and love.

Those who "know me" know that I am the Captain of the Character Defense Squad. So far I have only made one other post like this, one in Appreciation to Viviane, if you want to see it, I'll leave it here.

And now I am focusing on Tog's most overlooked couple: Nestaq.

⚠️ Throne of Glass Series Spoiler Alert!!!

The basis of this post will be mainly Tower of Dawn, and a bit of Queen of Shadows, I haven't finished KoA yet (I'm on chapter 21) and Lord knows I won't finish that book any time soon. BUuUt, I won't try anymore. The TOG fandom literally sleeps when it comes to this couple and I'm like: 🤡HELLOOOOO🤡

This post is huge and I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes or anything like that.

Let's start with Nesryn✨

Balruhn, where Nesryn’s own people had originally hailed, before curiosity and ambition drove her great-grandfather to drag his family over mountains and grasslands and deserts to the god-city in the arid north.

The Faliqs had long been tradesmen, and not of anything particularly fine. Just simple, good cloth and household spices. Her uncle still traded such things and, through various lucrative investments, had become a moderately wealthy man, his family now dwelling in a beautiful home within this very city. A definitive step up from a baker��the path her father had chosen upon leaving these shores. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

A daughter of Adarlan (on her mother's side, Cybele) and a daughter of the Southern Continent (on her father's side, Sayed Faliq).

We meet her in Queen of Shadows, the fifth book in the series.

“I heard what happened this winter. That you went to the warehouse and killed so many of us. You slaughtered rebels - my friends.” That cool, calm mask didn’t so much as flinch. “And yet I’m now supposed to believe you were on our side all along. Forgive me if I’m not forthright with you.” — Nesryn Faliq to Aelin Galathinyus (Queen of Shadows chapter 6)

Nesryn Faliq is shown to be a quiet woman who prefers silence, intelligent and a guard in the city of Riftfort, she was one of the rebels who were working with Ren Allsbrook. We also find out that Chaol Westfall and she were once lovers and at that point retained something of a "friendship".

He’d needed it—the distraction and release—after Lithaen had left him for the charms of Roland Havilliard. Nesryn had just been bored, apparently. She’d never sought him out, never asked when she would see him again, so their encounters had always been initiated by him. A few months later, he hadn’t felt particularly bad when he’d gone to Endovier and stopped seeing her. He’d never told Dorian —or Aelin. And when he’d run into Nesryn three weeks ago at one of the rebel gatherings, she hadn’t seemed to be holding a grudge.

“You look like a man who got punched in the balls,” she said at last.

He cut a glare in her direction. And because he did indeed feel that way, because maybe he was again feeling a bit shattered and reckless, he told her what had happened. Who it had happened with. He trusted her, though. In the three weeks they’d been fighting and plotting and surviving together, he’d had no choice but to trust her. Ren had trusted her. — (Queen of Shadows chapter 7)

Regarding Nesryn and Chaol, from what I understand, the two were fine with what they had, but there came a point where Nesryn had feelings for Chaol that he didn't have for her. I'm not saying that Nesryn was crazy in love with him, but she was starting to fall in love, however, the feelings that Chaol had for her were trust, admiration, friendship and obviously, attraction. Just that. (Also, let's face it, we are talking about Nesryn Faliq, the woman is perfect). And he might even love her, but the kind of love that is more on the side of friendship.

Nesryn knew. She knew it hadn’t been mere interest that had prompted Chaol to ask her to talk to him last night, but guilt. She was fine with it, she told herself. She had been a replacement for not one, but two of the women in his life. A third one… She was fine with it... - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

And still in Queen of Shadows, Nesryn Faliq won my heart when she saved Lysandra's life and Dorian's life. Being the absurdly amazing Archer that she is.

The blade dipped as she (Aelin) decided, and— Impact slammed into her father ’s sword, knocking her off balance as Aedion shouted. The arrow ricocheted into the garden, hissing against the gravel as it landed. Nesryn was already approaching, another arrow drawn, pointed at Aedion.

“Strike the prince, and I’ll shoot the general.” - (Queen of Shadows chapter 19)

........................

Lysandra leaped. The closest guard fired a clean, spiraling shot right for her chest. She knew, with that leopard’s senses, that it would hit home. Yet Lysandra did not slow. She did not stop. For Evangeline. For her future. For her freedom. For the friends who had come for her. The bolt neared her heart. And was knocked from the air by an arrow.

Lysandra landed on the guard’s face and shredded it with her claws. There was only one sharpshooter with that sort of aim. Lysandra loosed a roar, and became a storm of death upon the guards nearest her while arrows rained on the rest. When Lysandra dared look, it was in time to see Nesryn Faliq draw another arrow atop the neighboring rooftop, flanked by her rebels, and fire it clean through the eye of the final guard between Lysandra and the castle.

“Go!” Nesryn shouted over the panicking crowd. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 75)

One thing that makes me admire Nesryn so much, besides the fact that she is a strong woman, is that even when she suffered a huge loss when she was 13, experienced prejudice throughout her childhood for her origins, suffered prejudice at work for being a woman, she didn't give up. She didn't stop fighting. Never. And if that is not an admirable story, I don't know what is.

“I wouldn’t?” A cold question. “You think that I don’t understand what’s at stake? I don’t care about your prince—not the way you do. I care about what he represents for the future of this kingdom, and for the future of people like my family. I won’t allow another immigrant purge to happen. I don’t ever want my sister ’s children coming home with broken noses again because of their foreign blood. You told me Dorian would fix the world, make it better. But if he’s gone, if we made the mistake today in keeping him alive, then I will find another way to attain that future. And another one after that, if I have to. I will keep getting back up, no matter how many times those butchers shove me down.”

He’d never heard so many words from her at once, had never… never even known she had a sister. Or that she was an aunt. Nesryn said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stay the course, but also plot another one. Adapt.”

His mouth had gone dry. “Were you ever hurt? For your heritage?” Nesryn glanced toward the roaring hearth, her face like ice. “I became a city guard because not a single one of them came to my aid the day the other schoolchildren surrounded me with stones in their hands. Not one, even though they could hear my screaming.” She met his stare again. “Dorian Havilliard offers a better future, but the responsibility also lies with us. With how common people choose to act.” True—so true. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 22)

.................

“Adarlan is not as … open as the khaganate when it comes to embracing the role of women in the ranks of its guards or armies,” she admitted. “While I might be skilled, men usually were promoted. So I was left to rot on patrol duty at the walls or busy streets. Handling the underworld or nobility was left for more important guards. And ones whose families hailed from Adarlan.” Her sister had raged anytime it happened, but Nesryn had known that if she’d exploded to her superiors, if she’d challenged them … They were the sort of men who would tell her to be grateful to be admitted at all, then demand she turn in her sword and uniform. So she’d figured it was better to remain, to be passed over, not for mere pay, but for the fact that there were so few other guards like her, helping those who needed it most. It was for them she stayed on, kept her head down while lesser men were appointed. “Ah.” Another beat of quiet from the prince. “I’ve heard they were not so welcoming toward people from other lands.”

“To say the least.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

The huge loss that Nesryn has suffered:

Nesryn said quietly, “My mother died when I was thirteen.” She gazed up at the near-glowing Torre. “The old king … you know what he did to those with magic. To healers gifted with it. So there was no one who could save my mother from the wasting sickness that crept up on her. The healer we managed to find admitted to us that it was likely from a growth inside my mother’s breast. That she might have been able to cure her before magic vanished. Before it was forbidden.”

She had never told anyone outside of her family this story. Wasn’t sure why she was really telling him now, but she went on, “My father wanted to get her on a boat to sail here. Was desperate to. But war had broken out up and down our lands. Ships were conscripted into Adarlan’s service, and she was too sick to risk a land journey all the way down to Eyllwe to try to cross there. My father combed through every map, every trade route. By the time he found a merchant who would sail with them—just the two of them—to Antica … My mother was so sick she could not be moved. She would not have made it here, even if they’d gotten on the boat.” Sartaq watched her, face unreadable, while she spoke.

Nesryn slid her hands into her pockets. “So she stayed. And we were all there when she … when it was over.” That old grief wrapped around her, burning her eyes. “It took me a few years to feel right again,” she said after a moment. “Two years before I started noticing things like the sun on my face, or the taste of food —started enjoying them again. My father … he held us together. My sister and I. If he mourned, he did not let us see it. He filled our house with as much joy as he could.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 13)

...............

Yew, ash … She plucked up one of the yew bows, testing its weight, its flexibility and resistance. A solid, deadly weapon. Yet familiar. As familiar as an old friend. She had not picked up a bow until her mother’s death, and during those initial years of grief and numbness, the physical training, the concentration and strength required, had been a sanctuary, and a reprieve, and forge. She wondered if any of her old tutors had survived the attack on Rifthold. If any of their arrows had brought down wyverns. Or slowed them enough to save lives. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

In Tower of Dawn we are shown what an interesting character Nesryn is, and like every SJM character, she has also experienced trauma and grief.

An excerpt that sums up Nesryn's personality for us:

Last night, talking with him (with Sartaq) at the party, even talking with him in the alley outside the Torre a few nights before that … She had not felt quiet or aloof or strange. She had not felt cold or distant. He’d done her an honor in giving her such attention, and in escorting her and Chaol back to their rooms. She did not mind company—quiet as she could be, she enjoyed being around others. But sometimes… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

Something that fascinates me about Nesryn is her development in the series. In Queen of Shadows (and in the beginning of Tower of Dawn) it is as if she is in a cocoon. Closed off to the world and preventing anyone from seeing the beauty within. Because this is one of the best descriptions for Nesryn Faliq. Hard on the outside and sensitive on the inside.

Wind-seeker, her mother had once called her. Unable to keep still, always wandering where the wind calls you. Where shall it beckon you to journey one day, my rose? - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

The Modern Nesryn Faliq

Now, let's talk about her prince: Sartaq

We met him in Tower of Dawn, Sartaq is Khagan's second eldest son and the Commander of his father's ruk riders. The Rukhin.

The northern aerial cavalry of his people had long dwelled in the towering Tavan Mountains with their ruks: enormous birds, eagle-like in shape, large enough to carry off cattle and horses. Without the sheer bulk and destructive weight of the Ironteeth witches’ wyverns, but swift and nimble and clever as foxes. The perfect mounts for the legendary archers who flew them into battle.

Sartaq’s face was solemn, his broad shoulders thrown back. A man perhaps as ill at ease in his fine clothes as Chaol. She wondered if his ruk, Kadara, was perched on one of the palace’s thirty-six minarets, eyeing the cowering servants and guards, waiting impatiently for her master’s return. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

Several excerpts about Sartaq and his personality

She yielded a blink. His brown skin was darker than the others’—perhaps from all that time in the skies and sunlight—his eyes a solid ebony. Depthless and unreadable. His black hair remained unbound save for a small braid that curved over the arch of his ear. The rest of his hair fell to just past his muscled chest, and swayed slightly as he gave what Nesryn could have sworn was a mocking incline of his head. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

...................

“I’ve heard the stories.”

“Even in Adarlan?” He lifted a brow. A warrior and a charmer. A dangerous combination, though she could not recall any mention of a spouse. Indeed, no ring marked his finger.

“Even in Adarlan,” Nesryn said, though she did not mention that the average person on the street might not know such tales. But in her house hold… Oh, yes. The Winged Prince, they called him.

.................

“I was twelve when my father brought us all to the mountain aerie. And when I snuck away and climbed onto the captain’s own ruk, soaring into the skies and requiring them to chase me down … My father told me that if I had splattered on the rocks, I would have deserved to die for my stupidity. As punishment, he ordered me to live amongst the rukhin until I could prove I wasn’t a complete fool—a lifetime, he suggested.”

.................

“Thankfully, I did not die of stupidity, and instead came to love the riding, their lifestyle. They gave me hell because I was a prince, but I proved my mettle soon enough. Kadara hatched when I was fifteen, and I raised her myself. I have had no other mount since.” Pride and affection brightened those onyx eyes. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 6)

..................

“Only Fae blades could remain this sharp after a thousand years,” said Sartaq, setting down the knife he’d been inspecting. “Likely forged by the Fae smiths in Asterion, to the east of Doranelle—perhaps even before the first of the demon wars.”

A prince who had studied not only his own empire’s history, but that of many others. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

....................

Nesryn smiled. Charmer. Beneath that unfailingly sure exterior, Sartaq was certainly a shameless flirt. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

................

Borte had insisted that if she, as Houlun’s heir, was to stay, then Sartaq, as the khagan’s potential successor, should remain as well.

To that, Sartaq had merely stalked off into the interior hallways of Altun, saying that if being his father’s successor meant sitting idly by while others fought for him, then his siblings could have the damn crown. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

In order to understand Sartaq further, it is important to know what situation he was in, more precisely, how the Khaganate works. Is something complicated, because in brief, a Khagan has to kill his siblings and their descendants if they might pose any danger or resistance to the Khagan rule. Example: If a Khagan has three siblings, none of whom have had children, all of whom swear loyalty and submission to him, the Khagan may decide to keep them alive, but the three siblings and their companions will be sterilized. Thus making it impossible for anyone to stand up against Khagan.

Unlike Adarlan or Terrasen, inheritance of the empire was decided by the khagan—not by birth order or gender. Having as many children as possible to provide him or her with a wide pool to choose from made that choice only somewhat easier. And rivalry amongst the royal children… It was practically a blood sport. All designed to prove to their parent who was the strongest, the wisest, the most suited to rule.

The khagan was required by law to have a sealed document locked away in an unmarked, hidden trove—a document that listed his or her Heir, should death sweep upon them before it could be formally announced. It could be altered at any time, but it was designed to avoid the one thing the khaganate had lived in fear of since that first khagan had patched together the kingdoms and territories of this continent: collapse. Not from outside forces, but from war within. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 1)

And Sartaq's opinion about it:

Sartaq shrugged. “Kadara is my family. The rukhin, they are my family. My bloodline, though… It’s hard to love one another, when we will one day contend with each other. Love cannot exist without trust.” He smiled at his ruk. “I trust Kadara with my life. I would die for her, and she for me. Can I say the same of my siblings? My own parents?”

“It’s a shame,” Nesryn admitted. “At least I have her,” he said of the ruk. “And my riders. Pity my siblings, who have none of those blessings.”

He was a good man. The prince… he was a good man. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

In fact, Borte and Houlun are more Sartaq's sister and mother than his blood family. Their relationship is quite beautiful. (Borte and Houlun are Sartaq's hearth-sister and hearth-mother).

The Modern Sartaq

Now, finally, let's talk about the couple!!!!

One of the things that makes me love Nestaq so much is that Sartaq is Nesryn's first and biggest fan. He encourages, supports, and admires his woman without reservation.

Nestaq is made up of a wonderful, independent woman, and a perfect man who is not intimidated by his woman's power and doesn't need to do anything over-the-top to make it clear that he is totally a fan of hers.

And I love the fact that from the beginning it was written in the stars, sea and earth that Nesryn and Sartaq had to be together.

Nestaq Moments:

First flight together in Kadara and, as a bonus, we can see that it was already decided: Nesryn was the perfect woman for Sartaq; she loves the Southern Continent and pay attention to how she describes this flight with the prince. (She will make an amazing Grand Empress, get this).

Nesryn had watched the sunrise from the skies. She’d found Prince Sartaq waiting in his aerie in the hour before dawn. The minaret was open to the elements at its uppermost level, and behind the leather-clad prince … Nesryn had braced a hand on the archway to the stairwell, still breathless from the climb.

Kadara was beautiful. Each of the ruk’s golden feathers shone like burnished metal, the white of her breast bright as fresh snow. And her gold eyes had sized Nesryn up immediately. Before Sartaq even turned from where he’d been buckling on the saddle across her broad back. “Captain Faliq,” the prince had said by way of greeting. “You’re up early.” Casual words for any listening ears. “The storm last night kept me from sleep. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“On the contrary.” In the dim light, his mouth quirked in a smile. “I was about to go for a ride—to let this fat hog hunt for her breakfast for once.” Kadara puffed her feathers in indignation, clicking her enormous beak—fully capable of taking a man’s head off in one snip. No wonder Princess Hasar remained wary of the bird. Sartaq chuckled, patting her feathers. “Care to join?”

.................

“I am not particularly skilled with heights, but it would be my honor, Prince.”

..................

Sartaq had buckled and harnessed them both into the saddle, triple-checking the leather straps. Then he clicked his tongue once, and— Nesryn knew it wasn’t polite to squeeze a prince’s arms so hard the bone was likely to break. But she did so anyway as Kadara spread her shining golden wings and leaped out. Leaped down. Her stomach shot straight up her throat. Her eyes watered and blurred. Wind tore at her, trying to rip her from that saddle, and she clenched with her thighs so tightly they ached, while she gripped Sartaq’s arms, holding the reins, so hard he chuckled in her ear. But the pale buildings of Antica loomed up, near-blue in the early dawn, rushing to meet them as Kadara dove and dove, a star falling from the heavens— Then flared those wings wide and shot upward. Nesryn was glad she had forgone breakfast. For surely it would have come spewing out of her mouth at what the motion did to her stomach.

Within the span of a few beats, Kadara banked right—toward the horizon just turning pink. The sprawl of Antica spread before them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the skies. Until it was no more than a cobblestoned road beneath them, spreading into every direction. Until she could spy the olive groves and wheat fields just outside the city. The country estates and small towns speckled about. The rippling dunes of the northern desert to her left. The sparkling, snaking band of rivers turning golden in the rising sun that crested over the mountains to her right. Sartaq did not speak. Did not point out landmarks. Not even the pale line of the Sister-Road that ran toward the southern horizon. No, in the rising light, he let Kadara have her head. The ruk took them floating higher still, the air turning crisp—the awakening blue sky brightening with each mighty flap of her wings.

Open. So open. Not at all like the endless sea, the tedious waves and cramped ship. This was… this was breath. This was… She could not look fast enough, drink it all in. How small everything was, how lovely and pristine. A land claimed by a conquering nation, yet loved and nurtured. Her land. Her home. (Ana's Note: You're going to be the Grand Empress there, girl, you just don't know it yet😏)

The sun and the scrub and the undulating grasslands that beckoned in the distance. The lush jungles and rice fields to the west; the pale sand dunes of the desert to the northeast. More than she could see in a lifetime—farther than Kadara could fly in a single day. An entire world, this land. The entire world contained here. She could not understand why her father had left. Why he had stayed, when such darkness had crept into Adarlan. Why he had kept them in that festering city where she so rarely looked up at the sky, or felt a breeze that did not reek of the briny Avery or the rubbish rotting in the streets.

“You are quiet,” the prince said, and it was more question than statement. Nesryn admitted in Halha, “I don’t have words to describe it.” She felt Sartaq smile near her shoulder. “That was what I felt—that first ride. And every ride since.”

“I understand why you stayed at the camp those years ago. Why you are eager to return.” A beat of quiet. “Am I so easy to read?”

“How could you not wish to return?”

“Some consider my father’s palace to be the finest in the world.”

“It is.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

This conversation took place during their first flight and I think it was very important for the outcome of the story itself.

“And are you? Willing to hear us out?” Sartaq didn’t answer for a long moment, only the screaming wind filling the quiet. “I would listen. To you and Lord Westfall. I would hear what you know, what has happened to you both. I do not hold as much sway with my father as others, but he knows the ruk riders are loyal to me.”

“I thought—”

“That I was his favorite?” A low, bitter laugh. “I perhaps stand a chance at being named Heir, but the khagan does not select his Heir based on whom he loves best. Even so, that particular honor goes to Duva and Kashin.” Sweet-faced Duva, she could understand, but—“Kashin?”

“He is loyal to my father to a fault. He has never schemed, never backstabbed. I’ve done it—plotted and maneuvered against them all to get what I want. But Kashin... He may command the land armies and the horse-lords, he may be brutal when required, but with my father, he is guileless. There has never been a more loving or loyal son. When our father dies… I worry. What the others will do to Kashin if he does not submit, or worse: what his death will do to Kashin himself.” She dared ask, “What would you do to him?” Destroy him, if he will not swear fealty?

“It remains to be seen what sort of threat or alliance he could pose. Only Duva and Arghun are married, and Arghun has yet to sire offspring. Though Kashin, if he has his way, would likely sweep that young healer off her feet.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

Nesryn agrees to go with Sartaq to the Tavan mountains (where the rukhin live). And anyone who has read Tower of Dawn will remember that the time Nesryn spent with them was very good. I will try to make a compilation of all the times Nesryn felt at home in Eridun.

His face remained neutral, even as he added, “I’m sure your family will have my head for offering, but … would you like to accompany me?” Yes, she wanted to breathe. But she made herself ask, “For how long?” For time was not on her side. Their side. And to hunt for answers while so many threats gathered close… “A few weeks. No more than three. I like to keep the riders in line, and if I go absent for too long, they pull at the leash. So the journey will serve two purposes, I suppose.”

“I—I would need to discuss. With Lord Westfall.” She’d promised him as much last night. That they’d consider this precise path, weighing the pitfalls and benefits. They were still a team in that regard, still served under the same banner. Sartaq nodded solemnly, as if he could read everything on her face. “Of course. Though I leave soon.” She then heard it—the grunt of servants coming up the aerie stairs. Bringing supplies.

“You leave now,” Nesryn clarified as she noted the spear leaning against the far wall near the supply racks. His sulde. The russet horsehair tied beneath the blade drifted in the wind weaving through the aerie, the dark wood shaft polished and smooth. Sartaq’s onyx eyes seemed to darken further as he strode to his sulde, weighing the spirit-banner in his hands before resting it beside him, the wood thunking on the stone floor. “I…” It was the first she’d seen him stumble for words.

“You weren’t going to say good-bye?” She had no right to make such demands, expect such things, tentative allies or no. But Sartaq leaned his sulde against the wall again and began braiding back his black hair. “After last night’s party, I had thought you would be … preoccupied.”

With Chaol. Her brows rose. “All day?” The prince gave her a roguish smile, finishing off his long braid and picking up his spear once more. “I certainly would take all day.”

..............

Sartaq was still watching, his face carefully neutral as the last of the servants bowed and vanished. His sulde had been strapped just below the saddle, within easy reach should the prince need it, its reddish horsehairs trailing in the wind. Trailing southward. Toward that distant, wild land of the Tavan Mountains. Beckoning, as all spirit-banners did, toward an unknown horizon. Beckoning to claim whatever waited there. Nesryn said quietly, “Yes.”

The prince blinked. “I will go with you,” she clarified. A small smile tugged on his mouth. “Good.”

.............

She found Sartaq atop Kadara, waiting for her. The prince extended a callused hand to help her up into the saddle. She didn’t hesitate as she took his hand, his strong fingers wrapping around hers, and let him pull her into the saddle before him. He strapped and buckled them in, checked all of it thrice. But he reined in Kadara when she would have soared out of the minaret. Sartaq whispered in Nesryn’s ear, “I was praying to the Eternal Sky and all thirty-six gods that you’d say yes.” She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it.

“So was I,” Nesryn breathed, and they leaped into the skies. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

OK, I HAVE NO DESCRIPTION FOR THAT MOMENT. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

“And what are the tales they tell about you, Nesryn Faliq?” She chewed on the salted pork. “No one has any stories about me.” It didn’t bother her. Fame, notoriety … She valued other things more, she supposed.

“Not even the story about the arrow that saved a shape-shifter’s life? The impossible shot fired from a rooftop?” She snapped her head toward him. Sartaq only swigged from his water with a look that said, I told you my spies were good.

.............

“Neith’s Arrow,” Sartaq said after uncounted minutes, leaning back against the rock. Nesryn dragged her gaze from the stars to find his face limned in moonlight, silver dancing along the pure onyx of his braid. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That’s what my spies called you, what I called you until you arrived. Neith’s Arrow.” The Goddess of Archery—and the Hunt, originally hailing from an ancient sand-swept kingdom to the west, now enfolded into the khaganate’s vast pantheon. A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

Nesryn observed him for a long moment, the howling mountain wind blending with Kadara’s snoring. She’d always excelled at archery, took pride in her unmatched aim, but she had not learned because she coveted renown. She’d done it because she enjoyed it, because it gave her a direction to aim that wind-seeking inclination. And yet …

Sartaq cleared away the last of the food and did a quick check that the campsite was secure before heading off between the boulders himself. With only those foreign stars to witness, Nesryn smiled. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

That conversation...... Without words. Nestaq is the serious couple that knows how to be hilarious.

“Were you ever—”

“It’s not worth talking about.” Not when she could sometimes still feel that rock as it collided with her head, hear the taunts of those children. She swallowed and added, “Your Highness.” A low laugh. “So my title makes an appearance again.” But he didn’t press further. He only said, “I’m going to beg you not to call me Prince or Your Highness around the other riders.”

“You’re going to beg me, or you are?” His arms tightened around her in mock warning. “It took me years to get them to stop asking if I needed my silk slippers or servants to brush my hair.” Nesryn chuckled. “Amongst them, I am simply Sartaq.” He added, “Or Captain.”

“Captain?”

“Another thing you and I have in common, it seems.” Shameless flirt indeed. “But you rule all six ruk clans. They answer to you.”

“They do, and when we all gather, I am Prince. But amongst my family’s own clan, the Eridun, I captain their forces. And obey the word of my hearth-mother.” He squeezed her again for emphasis. “Which I’d advise you doing as well, if you don’t want to be stripped and tied to a cliff face in the middle of a storm.”

“Holy gods.”

“Indeed.”

“Did she—”

“Yes. And as you said, it’s not worth talking about.” But Nesryn chuckled again, surprised to find her face aching from smiling so often these past few minutes. “I appreciate the warning, Captain.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"Emissary or bride?" “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” Borte, you are of my clan, girl.

A faint gleam of approval entered Borte’s dark eyes just before the girl jerked her chin toward Nesryn. “A Balruhni woman in the leathers of a rukhin. Now, there’s a sight.” Sartaq didn’t answer. He only glanced in Nesryn’s direction. An invitation. And challenge. So Nesryn slipped her hands into the pockets of her close-fitting pants and sauntered to the prince’s side. “Will it be improved if I tell you I caught Sartaq filing his nails this morning?”

Borte stared at Nesryn, blinking once. Then she tipped back her head and howled. Sartaq threw an approving yet beleaguered glance in Nesryn’s direction before saying, “Meet my hearth-sister, Borte. Granddaughter and heir of my hearth-mother, Houlun.” He reached between them to tug one of Borte’s braids. She batted his hand away. “Borte, meet Captain Nesryn Faliq.” He paused for a breath, then added, “Of the Royal Guard of Adarlan.” Silence. Borte’s arched dark brows rose. An aging man in rukhin leathers pressed forward. “But what is more unusual: that a Balruhni woman is their captain, or that a captain of Adarlan has ventured so far?” Borte waved the man off. “Always the idle chatter and questions with you,” she scolded him. And to Nesryn’s shock, the man winced and shut his mouth. “The real question is...” A sly grin at Sartaq. “Does she come as emissary or bride?” Any attempt at a steady, cool, calm appearance vanished as Nesryn gaped at the girl. Right as Sartaq snapped, “Borte.”

Borte gave a downright wicked grin. “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

I didn't know whether to smile or scream.

Sartaq’s smile grew. “Perhaps we could also do a bit of archery practice.” He looked her over with a frankness that made her shift in her seat. “I’m certainly keen to match myself against Neith’s Arrow, and I’m sure the young warriors are, too.” Nesryn pushed back her own plate, brows lifting. “They’ve heard of me?” Sartaq grinned. “I might have told a story or two the last time I came here. Why do you think there were so many people gathered when we arrived? They certainly don’t usually bother to drag themselves here to see me.” “But Borte seemed like she’d never—”

“Does Borte seem like a person who gives anyone an easy time?” Something deeper in her warmed. “No. But how could they have known I was coming?” His answering grin was the portrait of princely arrogance. “Because I sent word a day before that you were likely to join me.” Nesryn gaped at him, unable to maintain that mask of calm. Rising, Sartaq scooped up their plates. “I told you that I was praying you’d join me, Nesryn Faliq. If I’d shown up empty-handed, Borte would have never let me hear the end of it.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful." huh huh!!

“Pick a mark,” Nesryn told Borte. The woman smirked. “Neck, heart, head.” She pointed to each of the three dummies, a different mark for each one. Wind rattled them, the aim and strength needed to hit each utterly different. Borte knew it—all the warriors here did. Nesryn lifted an arm behind her head, dragging her fingers along the fletching, the feathers rippling against her skin as she scanned the three targets. Listened to the murmur of the winds racing past Rokhal, that wild summons she heard echoed in her own heart. Wind-seeker, her mother had called her. One after another, Nesryn withdrew an arrow and fired.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

And when she finished, only the howling wind answered—the wind of Torke, the Roarer. Every training ring had stopped. Staring at what she’d done. Instead of three arrows distributed amongst the three dummies, she’d fired nine. Three rows of perfectly aligned shots on each: heart, neck, and head. Not an inch of difference. Even with the singing winds. Sartaq was grinning when she turned to him, his long braid drifting behind him, as if it were a sulde itself. But Borte elbowed past him, and breathed to Nesryn, “Show me.”

...................

But then Sartaq said, “You’re a good teacher.”

“Thank you.” It was all she could think to say. He’d kept close to her side while she walked the others through her various positions and techniques, but had said little. A leader who did not need to constantly be filling the air with talking and boasting. He blew out a breath, shoulders loosening. “And I’m relieved to see that the reality lives up to the legend.” Nesryn chuckled, grateful to be back on safer ground. “You had doubts?” They reached the landing that would take them to the great hall. Sartaq let her fall into step beside him. “The reports left out some key information. It made me doubt their accuracy.” It was the sly gleam in his eye that made Nesryn angle her head. “What, exactly, did they fail to mention?” They reached the great hall, empty save for a cloaked figure just barely visible on the other side of the fire pit—and someone sitting beside her.

But Sartaq turned to her, examining her from head to toe and back again. There was little that he missed. “They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

Nesryn saving Sartaq's life.

“Don’t.” He gave her an incredulous look over his shoulder. Nesryn kept her own face like stone. “Your ej said these towers were laid with traps. Just because we have yet to see one does not mean they are not still here.” She pointed with her arrow toward the open archway to the levels belowground. “We keep quiet, tread carefully. I go first.” To hell with being the rearguard, if he was prone to plunging into danger. The prince’s eyes flared, but she didn’t let him object. “I faced some of the horrors of Morath this spring and summer. I know how to mark them—and where to strike.” Sartaq looked her over again. “You really should have been promoted.” Nesryn smiled, releasing his muscled bicep. Wincing as she realized the liberties she’d taken by grabbing him, touching a prince without permission—

“Two captains, remember?” he said, noting the cringe she failed to hide. Indeed. Nesryn inclined her head and stepped in front of him—and into the archway of the stairs leading below. Her arm strained as she pulled the bowstring taut, scanning the darkness immediately beyond the stairwell entrance. When nothing leaped out, she slackened the bow, placed her arrow back in the quiver, and plucked up a handful of rocks from the ground, shards and chips from the felled blocks of stone around them. A step behind, Sartaq did the same, filling his pockets with them. Listening carefully, Nesryn rolled one of the rocks down the spiral stairs, letting it bounce and crack and— A faint click, and Nesryn hurled herself back, slamming into Sartaq and sending them both sprawling to the ground. A thud sounded within the stairwell below, then another. In the quiet that followed, her heavy breathing the only sound, she listened again. “Hidden bolts,” she observed, wincing as she found Sartaq’s face mere inches away. His eyes were upon the stairwell, even as he kept a hand on her back, the other angling his long knife toward the archway.

“Seems I owe you my life, Captain,” Sartaq said, and Nesryn quickly peeled back, offering a hand to help him rise. He clasped it, his hand warm around hers as she hauled him to his feet. “Don’t worry,” Nesryn said drily. “I won’t tell Borte.” She plucked up another handful of rocks and sent them rolling and scattering down the gloom of the stairs. A few more clicks and thumps—then silence. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

Sartaq saving Nesryn's life.

Click. Nesryn was so focused on the wall ahead that she didn’t consider where the click had come from. Not in front, but below. One heartbeat, she was crouched on a step. The next, it had slid away beneath her feet, a black pit yawning open beneath— Strong hands wrapped around her shoulder, her collar, a blade clattering on stone— Nesryn scrabbled for the lip of the nearest stair as Sartaq held her, grunting at her weight, his long knife tumbling into the blackness beneath. Metal hit metal. Bounced off it again and again, the clanking filling the stairwell. Spikes. Likely a field of metal spikes—

Sartaq hauled her up, and her nails cracked on stone as she grappled for purchase on the smooth step. But then she was up, half sprawled on the stairs between Sartaq’s legs, both of them panting as they peered to the gap beyond. “I think we’re even,” Nesryn said, fighting and failing to master her shaking. The prince clasped her shoulder, while his other hand brushed down the back of her head. A comforting, casual touch. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

We know who's in command in the relationship

Nesryn caught him before he could eat dirt, and snapped at Sartaq, “If you don’t get him bandages and supplies right now, I’ll give you a wound to match.” The prince blinked at her, mouth falling open. Then he whistled through his teeth, sharp and swift, while he strode for Kadara, his steps clipped. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 35)

This is more how Nesryn felt among the rukhin than a Nestaq moment. I'm going to kind of open a giant parenthesis to leave this here.

She’d never seen anything so great and unforgiving, so vast and beautiful. And even though she was as insignificant as a mayfly compared with the size of the mountains around them, some piece of her felt keenly a part of it, born from it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

................

It was the warm welcome that still surprised her. The smiles of the rukhin who asked, some shyly, some boldly, for demonstrations with her bow and arrow. But for all she showed them, she, too, learned. Went soaring with Sartaq through the mountain passes, the prince calling out targets and Nesryn striking them, learning how to fire into the wind, as the wind. He even let her ride Kadara alone—just once, and enough for her to again wonder how they let four-year-olds do it, but … she’d never felt so unleashed. So unburdened and unbridled and yet settled in herself.

So they went, clan to clan, hearth to hearth. Sartaq checking up on the riders and their training, stopping to visit new babes and ailing old folk. Nesryn remained his shadow—or tried to. Anytime she lingered a step back, Sartaq nudged her forward. Anytime there was a task to be done with the others, he asked her to do it. The washing-up after a meal, the returning of arrows from target practice, the cleaning-out of the ruk droppings from halls and nests. The last task, at least, the prince joined her in. No matter his rank, no matter his status as captain, he did every chore without a word of complaint. No one was above work, he told her when she’d asked one night. And whether she was scraping crusted droppings from the ground or teaching young warriors how to string a bow, something restless in her had settled.

She could no longer picture it—the quiet meetings at the palace in Rifthold where she had given solemn guards their orders and then parted ways amongst marble floors and finery. Could not remember the city barracks, where she’d lurked in the back of a crowded room, gotten her orders, and then stood on a street corner for hours, watching people buy and eat and argue and walk about. Another lifetime, another world. Here in the deep mountains, breathing in the crisp air, seated around the fire pit to hear Houlun narrate tales of rukhin and the horse-lords, tales of the first khagan and his beloved wife, whom Borte had been named after… She could not remember that life before. And did not want to go back to it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

“Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.” I didn't cry here. And beautiful, smart, excellent archer, and sings well. Nesryn Faliq, the complete package.

“But I can sing for you.” Silence. Houlun set down her whetstone. “A song would be appreciated.” A scowl at Borte and Sartaq. “Since neither of my children can carry a tune to save their lives.” Borte rolled her eyes at her hearth-mother, but Sartaq bowed his head in apology, a crooked grin now on his mouth. Nesryn smiled, even as her heart pounded at her bold offer. She’d never really performed for anyone, but this … It was not performing, as much as it was sharing. She listened to the wind whispering outside the cave mouth for a long moment, the others falling quiet.

“This is a song of Adarlan,” she said at last. “From the foothills north of Rifthold, where my mother was born.” An old, familiar ache filled her chest. “She used to sing this to me—before she died.” A glimmer of sympathy in Houlun’s steely gaze. But Nesryn glanced to Borte as she spoke, finding the young woman’s face unusually soft—staring at Nesryn as if she had not seen her before. Nesryn gave her a small, subtle nod. It is a weight we both bear. Borte offered a small, quiet smile in return. Nesryn listened to the wind again. Let herself drift back to her pretty little bedroom in Rifthold, let herself feel her mother’s silken hands stroking her face, her hair. She had been so taken with her father’s stories of his far-off homeland, of the ruks and horse-lords, that she had rarely asked for anything about Adarlan itself, despite being a child of both lands.

And this song of her mother’s … One of the few stories she had, in the form she loved best. Of her homeland in better days. And she wanted to share it with them—that glimpse into what her land might again become. Nesryn cleared her throat. Took a bracing breath. And then she opened her mouth and sang. The crackle of the fire her only drum, Nesryn’s voice filled the Mountain-Hall of Altun, wending through the ancient pillars, bouncing off the carved rock. She had the sense of Sartaq going very still, had the sense that there was nothing hard or laughing on his face. But she focused on the song, on those long-ago words, that story of distant winters and speckles of blood on snow; that story of mothers and their daughters, how they loved and fought and tended to each other.

Her voice soared and fell, bold and graceful as a ruk, and Nesryn could have sworn that even the howling winds paused to listen. And when she finished, a gilded, high note of the spring sun breaking across cold lands, when silence and the crackling fire filled the world once more… Borte was crying. Silent tears streaming down her pretty face. Houlun’s hand was tightly wrapped around her granddaughter’s, the whetstone set aside. A wound still healing—for both of them.

And perhaps Sartaq, too—for grief limned his face. Grief, and awe, and perhaps something infinitely more tender as he said, “Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.”

She ducked her head again, accepting the praise of the others with a smile. Falkan clapped as best he could manage and called for another song. Nesryn, to her surprise, obliged them. A merry, bright mountain song her father had taught her, of rushing streams amid blooming fields of wildflowers. But even as the night moved on, as Nesryn sang in that beautiful mountain-hall, she felt Sartaq’s stare. Different from any he’d given before. And though she told herself she should, Nesryn did not look away. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

I can't be the only person who is passionate about the conversations Nestaq has in the sky.

Nesryn chewed her lip. “Why—why is it that you haven’t married?” She’d never had the nerve to ask. Though she’d certainly found herself wondering it during these weeks. Sartaq’s hands flexed on the reins before he answered. “I’ve been too busy. And the women who have been presented as potential brides… They were not for me.”She had no right to pry, but she asked, “Why?” (Ana's Note: because them were not you, duh.)

“Because whenever I showed them Kadara, they either cowered, or pretended to be interested in her, or asked just how much time I’d be spending away.”

“Hoping for frequent absences, or because they’d miss you?” Sartaq chuckled. “I couldn’t tell. The question itself felt like enough of a leash that I knew they were not for me.”

“So your father allows you to wed where you will?” Dangerous, strange territory. She waited for him to tease her about it, but Sartaq fell quiet. “Yes. Even Duva’s arranged marriage … She was all for it. Said she didn’t want to have to sort through a court of snakes to find one good man and still pray he hadn’t deceived her. I wonder if there’s something to be said for it. She lucked out, anyway—quiet as he is, her husband adores her. I saw his face the moment they met. Saw hers, too. Relief, and … something more.” And what would become of them—of their child—if another Heir were chosen for the throne? Nesryn asked carefully, “Why not end this tradition of competing with each other?” Sartaq was silent for a long minute. “Perhaps one day, whoever takes the throne will end it. Love their siblings more than they honor the tradition. I like to believe we have moved past who we were centuries ago—when the empire was still fledgling. But perhaps now, these years of relative peace, perhaps this is the dangerous time.” He shrugged, his body shifting against hers. “Perhaps war will sort the matter of succession for us.” And maybe it was because they were so high above the world, because that dim land swept ever closer, but Nesryn asked, “There is nothing that would keep you from war if it called, then?”

“You sound as if you are reconsidering this goal of yours to drag us into the north.” She stiffened. “I will admit that these weeks here … It was easier before to ask for your aid. When the rukhin were a nameless, faceless legion. When I did not know their names, their families. When I did not know Houlun, or Borte. Or that Borte is betrothed.” A low laugh at that. Borte had refused—outright refused—to answer Nesryn’s questions about Yeran. She said it wasn’t even worth talking about. “I’m sure Borte would be glad to go to war, if only to compete with Yeran for glory on the battlefield.”

“A true love match, then.” Sartaq smiled at her ear. “You have no idea.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

It was all too intense here, damn spiders, Kadara hurt, Nesryn and Sartaq almost dying, the confession... And no, I didn't cry. Again. You realize how important Kadara is to the Sartaq.

Sartaq pivoted them, his body a solid wall around hers as Nesryn realized where the sky was, where the pass floor was— He roared as they struck the shale, as he kept her atop him, taking the full brunt of the impact.

.................

“Not broken,” he rasped. “Not broken.” It was more to himself than her. But Nesryn managed to keep her fingers steady as she freed the buckles. The thick riding leathers had saved his life, saved his skin from being flayed off his bones. He’d taken the impact for her, moved her so that he’d hit it first— She clawed at the shale covering his shoulders and his upper arms, sharp rock cutting into her fingers. The leather strap at the end of her braid had come free in the impact, and her hair now fell about her face, half blocking her view of the forest behind and rock around them. “Get up,” she panted. “Get up.” He took a breath, blinking furiously. “Get up,” she begged him. Shale shifted ahead, and a low, pained cry echoed off the rock. Sartaq snapped upright. “Kadara—”

................

The mighty ruk tried and failed to rise. “FLY,” Sartaq bellowed. Slowly, so slowly the ruk lumbered to her legs, her scraped beak dragging through the loose rock. She wasn’t going to make it. Wasn’t going to get airborne in time. For just beyond the web-shrouded tree line… Shadows writhed. Scuttled closer. Nesryn sheathed her sword and drew her bow, arrow shaking as she aimed it toward the rock the hatchling had been hauled behind, then the trees a hundred yards off.

“Go, Kadara,” Sartaq begged. “Get up!” The bird was barely in shape to fly, let alone carry riders— Rock clacked and skittered behind her. From the labyrinth of rock within the pass. Trapped. They were trapped— Falkan shifted in her pocket, trying to wriggle free. Nesryn covered him with her forearm, pressing hard. “Not yet,” she breathed. “Not yet.” His powers were not Lysandra’s. He had tried and failed to shift into a ruk this week. But the large wolf was as big as he could manage. Anything larger was beyond his magic.

“Kadara—” The first of the spiders broke from the tree line. As black and sleek as her fallen sister. Nesryn let her arrow fly. The spider fell back, screaming—an unholy sound that shook the rocks as that arrow sank into an eye. Nesryn instantly had another arrow drawn, backing toward Kadara, who was just now beginning to flap her wings— The ruk stumbled. Sartaq screamed, “FLY!”

Wind stirred Nesryn’s hair, sending shards of shale skittering. The ground rumbled behind, but Nesryn did not dare take her eyes off the second spider that emerged from the trees. She fired again, the song of her arrow drowned out by the flap of Kadara’s wings. A heavy, pained beat, but it held steady— Nesryn glanced behind for a breath. Just one, just to see Kadara bobbing and waving, fighting for every wing beat upward through the narrow pass, blood and shale dripping from her. Right as a kharankui emerged from one of the shadows of the rocks high up the peak, legs bending as if it would leap upon the ruk’s back— Nesryn fired, a second arrow on its tail. Sartaq’s. Both found their marks. One through an eye, the other through the open mouth of the spider. It shrieked, tumbling down from its perch. Kadara swung wide to dodge it, narrowly avoiding the jagged face of the peak. The spider’s splat thudded through the maze of rock ahead. But then Kadara was up, into the gray sky, flapping like hell. Sartaq whirled toward Nesryn just as she looked back at the pine forest. To where half a dozen kharankui now emerged, hissing. Blood coated the prince, his every breath ragged, but he managed to grab Nesryn’s arm and breathe, “Run.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 42)

................

Nesryn just pushed onward, the pass becoming a fraction wider, counting her breaths. They were likely some of her last— Thinking that way helped no one and nothing. She’d stared down death this summer, when that wave of glass had come crashing toward her. Had stared it down, and been saved. Perhaps she would be lucky again, too. Sartaq stumbled out behind her, breathing hard. Water. They desperately needed water—and bandages for his wounds. If the spiders did not find them, then the lack of water in the arid pass might very well kill them first. Long before any help arrived from the Eridun rukhin. Nesryn forced one step in front of another, the path narrowing again, the rock as tight as a vise. She twisted sideways, edging through, her swords scraping. Sartaq grunted, then let out a pained curse. “I’m stuck.”

She found him indeed wedged behind her, the bulk of his broad chest and shoulders pinned. He shoved himself forward, blood leaking from his wounds as he pushed and pulled. “Stop,” she ordered. “Stop—wriggle back out if you can.” There was no other way through and nothing to climb over, but if they removed his weapons— His dark eyes met hers. She saw the words forming. You keep going.

“Sartaq,” she breathed. They heard it then. Claws clicking on stone. Skittering along. Many of them. Too many. Coming from behind, closing in. Nesryn grabbed the prince’s hand, tugging. “Push,” she panted. “Push.” He grunted in pain, the veins in his neck bulging as he tried to squeeze through, his boots scraping on the loose rock— Nesryn dug her own feet in, gritting her teeth as she hauled him forward. Click, click, click—

“Harder,” she gasped. Sartaq angled his head, shoving against the rock that held him.

“What a fine morsel, our guest,” hissed a soft female voice. “So large he cannot even fit through the passage. How we shall feast.” Nesryn heaved and heaved, her grip treacherously slippery with sweat and blood from both of them, but she clamped onto his wrist hard enough that she felt bones shift beneath—

“Go,” he whispered, straining to push through. “You run.” Falkan was shifting in her pocket, trying to emerge. But with the rock pressing on her chest, the passage was too tight for even him to poke out his head—

“A pretty pair,” that female continued. “How her hair shines like a moonless night. We shall take you both back to our home, our honored guests.” A sob clawed its way up Nesryn’s throat. “Please,” she begged, scanning the rock high above them, the lip into the upper reaches of the narrow pass, the curving horns of the peaks, tugging and tugging on Sartaq’s arm. “Please,” she begged them, begged anyone.

But Sartaq’s face went calm. So calm. He stopped pushing, stopped trying to haul himself forward. Nesryn shook her head, pulling on his arm. He did not move. Not an inch. His dark eyes met hers. There was no fear in them. Sartaq said to her, clear and steady, “I heard the spies’ stories of you. The fearless Balruhni woman in Adarlan’s empire. Neith’s Arrow. And I knew…” Nesryn sobbed, tugging and tugging. (Ana's Note: here I was almost creating a new ocean with so many tears)

Sartaq smiled at her—gently. Sweetly. In a way she had not yet seen. “I loved you before I ever set eyes on you,” he said. “Please,” Nesryn wept. Sartaq’s hand tightened on hers. “I wish we’d had time.” A hiss behind him, a rising bulk of shining black— Then the prince was gone. Ripped from her hands.

As if he had never been. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 47)

Coming out of hell at last.

Another cry split the night, one she’d learned as well as her own voice. And there was Kadara, sailing hard for them, two other ruks in her wake. Sartaq let out what might have been a sob as one of the other ruks broke away, diving to where Borte swept and lunged and shattered through the kharankui ranks.

..............

Borte was not done. A light sparked atop her ruk. A flaming arrow. Borte fired it high into the sky. A signal, Nesryn realized as countless wings filled the air around them. And as Borte’s arrow landed atop a web, flame erupting, hundreds of lights kindled in the sky. Ruk riders. Each bearing a flaming arrow. Each now pointing downward. Like a rain of shooting stars, the arrows fell upon the darkness of Dagul. Landed on web and tree. And caught fire. One after another after another.

Until the night was lit up, until smoke streamed, mingling with the rising screams from the peaks and wood. The ruks veered northward, Nesryn shaking as she clung to the talons holding her. Across the way, Sartaq met her gaze, his now-shoulder-length hair rippling in the wind. With the flames below, it made the wounds to his face, his hands, his neck all the more gruesome. His skin was wan, his lips pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and relief. And yet…

Sartaq smiled, barely a curve of his mouth. The words the prince had confessed drifted on the wind between them. She could not take her eyes from him. Could not look away. So Nesryn smiled back.

And below and behind them, long into the night, the Dagul Fells burned. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 51)

She loves him, yes. No one can tell me otherwise. Look at this relationship. Look how they interact. Only one thing: perfection.

When Nesryn faced Sartaq, it was in time to see him sway. She lunged, her aching body protesting as she caught the prince around the middle. Someone shouted for a healer, but Sartaq got his legs beneath him, even as he kept his arms about her. Nesryn found herself disinclined to remove her own arms from his waist. Sartaq stared down at her, that soft, sweet smile on his mouth again. “You saved me.”

“It seemed a sorry end for the tales of the Winged Prince,” she replied, frowning at the gash in his leg. “You should be sitting—” Across the hall, light flashed, people cried out… and then the spider was gone. Replaced by a man, covered in slashing cuts and blood. When Nesryn looked back, Sartaq’s gaze was on her face. Her throat closed up, her mouth pressing into a trembling line as she realized that they were here. They were here, and alive, and she had never known such true terror and despair as she had in those moments when he had been hauled away.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his mouth over the tears that escaped. He said against her skin, “Whatever would they say about Neith’s Arrow then?” Nesryn laughed despite herself, despite what had happened, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared, resting her head against his chest. Sartaq just wordlessly stroked her hair and held her right back.

...............

Nesryn had slept the entirety of the day before. Not in her room, but curled in bed beside the prince now standing with her before the assembled group. They had both been patched up and bathed, and though Sartaq had not so much as kissed her… Nesryn had not objected when he led her by the hand and limped into his bedroom. So they had slept. And when they had awoken, when their wounds had been rebandaged, they’d emerged to find the hall full of riders. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

In this scene, I really see them as the future Khagan and future Grand Empress. And together, leading, the two do not complete each other, they overflow each other.

All eyes shifted between them, some warm and welcoming, some worried, some hard. Sartaq said to the group gathered, “The kharankui have stirred again.” Murmurs and shifting rustled through the hall. “And though the threat was dealt with bravely and fiercely by the Berlad clan, the spiders will likely return again. They have heard a dark call through the world. And they are poised to answer it.” Nesryn stepped forward. Lifted her chin. And though the words filled her with dread, speaking them here felt as natural as breathing. “We learned many things in the Pass of Dagul,” Nesryn said, voice ringing out across the pillars and stones of the hall. “Things that will change the war in the north. And change this world.” Every eye was on her now. Houlun nodded from her spot near Borte, who smiled in encouragement. Yeran sat nearby, half watching his betrothed. Sartaq’s fingers brushed hers. Once—in urging. And promise.

“We do not face an army of men in the northern continent,” Nesryn went on. “But of demons. And if we do not rise to meet this threat, if we do not rise to meet it as one people, of all lands… Then we will find our doom instead.” So she told them. The full history. Of Erawan. And Maeve. She did not mention the quest for the keys, but by the time she was done, the hall was astir as clans whispered to one another.

“I leave this choice to you,” Sartaq said, voice unfaltering. “The horrors in the Dagul Fells are only the start. I will pass no judgment, should you choose to remain. But all who fly with me, we soar under the khagan’s banner. We shall leave you to debate amongst yourselves.” And with that, taking Nesryn by the hand, Sartaq led her from the hall, Falkan falling into step behind them. Borte and Houlun remained, as heads of the Eridun clan. Nesryn knew how they would side, that they would fly north, but the others… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

Back to Antica. Finally, Nesryn and Chaol are resolved. The Rukhin ready to go to war. Sartaq ready to marry.

“I know,” Sartaq said quietly. The prince turned to Nesryn, and as she held his stare … Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new and trembling. But there it was, right along with the cuts and wounds they both bore. “I know,” Sartaq said again, his fingers brushing Nesryn’s.

Nesryn met Chaol’s eyes then. She smiled softly at him, glancing to where Yrene now asked Hafiza about whether she could stand. He’d never seen Nesryn appear so … settled. So quietly happy. Chaol swallowed. I’m sorry, he said silently. Nesryn shook her head as Sartaq scooped his sister into his arms with a grunt, the prince balancing his weight on his good leg. I think I did just fine.

Chaol smiled. Then I am happy for you.

................

Nesryn wiped away her tears as Chaol closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. “Thank you,” he said in Nesryn’s ear. She squeezed him back. “Thank you—for bringing me here. To all of this.” To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of emotion. She added, “We have many things to tell you.” Chaol nodded. “And we you.”

They pulled apart, and Yrene approached—throwing her arms around Nesryn as well. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 64)

And honestly, I love the fact that Nesryn and Yrene get along. There are people who wanted the two to hate each other and I'm like: people, why?

This is not a Nestaq moment either, it is a point about Nesryn and Salkhi, which in a way, Sartaq was the one who gave it a little push to happen.

“That one over there,” the prince said at last, pointing to a reddish-brown ruk sitting by the opposite wall. She’d seen the ruk often—mostly noting that he was alone, never visited by a rider, unlike some of the others. “His rider died a few months back. Clutched at his chest in a meal and died. The rider was old, but the ruk …” Sartaq smiled sadly at the bird. “He’s young—not yet four.”

“What happens to the ones whose riders die?”

“We offer them freedom. Some fly off to the wilds. Some remain.” Sartaq crossed his arms. “He remained.”

“Do they ever get new riders?”

“Some do. If they accept them. It is the ruk’s choice.” Nesryn heard the invitation in his voice. Read it in the prince’s eyes. Her throat tightened. “Our three weeks are up.”

“Indeed they are.” She faced the prince fully, tilting her head back to see his face. “We need more time.”

“So what did you say?”A simple question. But she’d taken hours to figure out how to word her letter to Chaol, then given it to Sartaq’s fastest messenger. “I asked for another three weeks.” He angled his head, watching her with that unrelenting intensity. “A great deal can happen in three weeks.” Nesryn made herself keep her shoulders squared, chin high. “Even so, at the end of it, I must return to Antica.” Sartaq nodded, though something like disappointment guttered his eyes. “Then I suppose the ruk in the aerie will have to wait for another rider to come along.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

......................

Nesryn murmured to the bird, guiding him toward the Runni Quarter while they flew on a salt-kissed breeze as fast as his wings could carry them. She had claimed him upon leaving the Eridun aerie.

Had gone right to the nests, where he had still waited for a rider who would never return, and looked deep into his golden eyes. Had told him that her name was Nesryn Faliq, and she was daughter of Sayed and Cybele Faliq, and that she would be his rider, if he would have her. She wondered if the ruk, whose late rider had called him Salkhi, had known the burning in her eyes had not been from the roaring wind as he’d bowed his head to her. Then she’d flown him, Salkhi keeping pace with Kadara at the head of the host as the rukhin sailed northward. Raced to Antica. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

I SIMPLY HAVE NO WORDS. I am completely in love with the Sartaq (with all due respect, Nesryn). And guys, here's a big Appreciation to Nesryn's family too. I love them. Her father, her sister, her nephews and nieces, her uncle and aunt, her cousins....... What a people..... They are one of the funniest families I have ever seen in my life.

How Sartaq found her two hours later, Nesryn didn’t know. Though she supposed a ruk sitting in the street of a fancy quarter of Antica was sure to cause a stir. And be easy to spot. She had wept and laughed and held her family for untold minutes, right in the middle of the street, Salkhi looking on. And when her uncle and aunt had called them in to at least cry over a good cup of tea, her family had told her of their adventures. The wild seas they had sailed, the enemies their ship had dodged on their voyage here. But they had made it—and here they would stay while the war raged, her father said, to the nods of her uncle and aunt. When she emerged from the house gates at last, her father claiming the honor of escorting Nesryn to Salkhi—after he’d shooed off her sister to go manage that circus of children—Nesryn had halted so quickly her father had nearly slammed into her.

Because standing beside Salkhi was Sartaq, a half smile on his face. And on the other side of Salkhi… Kadara patiently waited, the two ruks a proud pair indeed. Her father’s eyes widened, as if recognizing the ruk before the prince. But then her father bowed. Deeply. Nesryn had told her family—in moderate detail—what had befallen her amongst the rukhin. Her sister and aunt had glared at her when the various children began to declare that they, too, would be ruk riders. And then took off through the house, shrieking and flapping their arms, leaping off furniture with wild abandon.

She expected Sartaq to wait to be approached, but the prince spotted her father and strode forward. Then reached out and clasped his hand. “I heard Captain Faliq’s family had at last arrived safely,” Sartaq said by way of greeting. “I thought I’d come to welcome you myself.” (Ana's Note: meeting his father-in-law 😏😌)

Something swelled in her chest to the point of pain as Sartaq inclined his head to her father. Sayed Faliq looked like he might very well keel over dead, either from the gesture of respect or Kadara’s mere presence behind them. Indeed, several small heads now popped behind his legs, scanning the prince, then the ruks, and then—

“KADARA!”

Her aunt and uncle’s youngest child—no more than four—screamed the ruk’s name loud enough that anyone in the city who didn’t know the bird was on this street was now well aware. Sartaq laughed as the children shoved past Nesryn’s father, racing for the golden bird. Her sister was on their heels, warning springing from her lips— Until Kadara lowered herself to the ground, Salkhi following suit. The children halted, reverence stealing over them as they reached out tentative hands toward the two ruks and stroked them gently. Nesryn’s sister sighed with relief. Then realized who stood before Nesryn and their father. Delara went red. She patted her dress, as if it would somehow cover the fresh food stains courtesy of her youngest. Then she slowly backed into the house, bowing as she went.

Sartaq laughed as she vanished—but not before Delara gave Nesryn a sharp look that said, Oh, you are so smitten it’s not even a laughing matter.

Nesryn gave her sister a vulgar gesture behind her back that their father chose not to see. Her father was saying to Sartaq, “I apologize if my grandchildren, nieces, and nephews take some liberties with your ruk, Prince.” But Sartaq smiled broadly—a brighter grin than any she’d seen him give before. “Kadara pretends to be a noble mount, but she’s more of a mother hen than anything.” Kadara puffed her feathers, earning squeals of delight from the children. Nesryn’s father squeezed her shoulder before he said to the prince, “I think I’ll go keep them from trying to fly off on her.”

And then they were alone. In the street. Outside her uncle’s house. All of Antica now gawking at them. Sartaq did not seem to notice. Certainly not as he said, “Walk with me?” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

The end is only the beginning. One of my favorite scenes, I literally screamed with happiness.

They headed toward the quiet, clean alley behind her uncle’s house, walking in silence for a few steps. Until Sartaq said, “I spoke to my father.” And she wondered, then, if this meeting was not to be a good one. If the army they had brought was to be ordered back to its aeries. Or if the prince, the life she saw for herself in those beautiful mountains… if perhaps the reality of that, too, had found them. For he was a prince. And for all that she loved her family, for all that they made her so proud, there was not one noble drop of blood in their lineage. Her father shaking Sartaq’s hand was the closest any Faliq had ever come to royalty. Nesryn managed to say, “Oh?”

“We… discussed things.” Her chest sank at the careful words. “I see.”

Sartaq stopped, the sandy alley humming with the buzzing bees in the jasmine that climbed the walls of the bordering courtyards. The one behind them: the back, private courtyard belonging to her family. She wished she could slither over the wall and hide within. Rather than hear this. But Nesryn made herself meet the prince’s eyes. Saw him scanning her face.

“I told him,” Sartaq said at last, “that I planned to lead the rukhin against Erawan, with or without his consent.” Worse. This was getting worse and worse. She wished his face weren’t so damn unreadable. Sartaq took a breath. “He asked me why.”

“I hope you told him that the fate of the world might depend upon it.”

Sartaq chuckled. “I did. But I also told him that the woman I love now plans to head into war. And I intend to follow her.” (Ana's Note: SARTAQ, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH YOU TOUCH MY HEART, WHAT A MAN)

She didn’t let the words sink in. Didn’t let herself believe any of it, until he’d finished. “He told me that you are common-born. That a would-be Heir of the khagan needs to wed a princess, or a lady, or someone with lands and alliances to offer.” Her throat closed up. She tried to shut out the sound, the words. Didn’t want to hear the rest.

But Sartaq took her hand. “I told him if that was what it took to be chosen as Heir, I didn’t want it. And I walked out.” (Ana's Note: oh my Holy God)

Nesryn sucked in a breath. “Are you insane?” (Ana's Note: Yes, friend, for you)

Sartaq smiled faintly. “I certainly hope not, for the sake of this empire.” He tugged her closer, until their bodies were nearly touching. “Because my father appointed me Heir before I could walk out of the room.” (Ana's Note: I collapsed.)

Nesryn left her body. Could only manage to breathe. And when she tried to bow, Sartaq gripped her shoulders tightly. Stopped her before her head could even lower. “Never from you,” he said quietly. Heir—he’d been made Heir. To all this. This land she loved, this land she still wished to explore so much it ached. Sartaq lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his calluses scraping against her skin. “We fly to war. Much is uncertain ahead. Save for this.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “Save for what I feel for you. No demon army, no dark queen or king, will change that.” Nesryn shook, letting the words sink in. “I—Sartaq, you are Heir—” He pulled back to study her again. “We will go to war, Nesryn Faliq. And when we shatter Erawan and his armies, when the darkness is at last banished from this world … Then you and I will fly back here. Together.” He kissed her again—a bare caress of his mouth. “And so we shall remain for the rest of our days.”

She heard the offer, the promise. The world he laid at her feet. She trembled at it. What he so freely gave. Not the empire and crown, but … the life. His heart.

Nesryn wondered if he knew her heart had been his from that very first ride atop Kadara.

Sartaq smiled as if to say yes, he had. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the wind, like a mountain spring. He tasted like home. Nesryn clasped his face in her hands as she pulled back. “To war, Sartaq,” she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. “And then we’ll see what comes after.”

Sartaq gave her a knowing, cocky grin. As if he’d fully decided what would come after and nothing she could say would ever convince him otherwise. And from the courtyard just a wall away, her sister shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, “I told you, Father! (😂😂😂😂😂)

This is another giant parenthesis to let you know that Sartaq deserves appreciation, yes.

“My sulde still blows northward. Who knows what I may find on the road ahead? Especially now that Sartaq has the burden of being Heir, and I’m free to do as I please.” The city had been in an uproar about it. Celebrating, debating—it still raged on. What the other royal siblings thought, Yrene did not know, but… there was peace in Kashin’s eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seen them. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspoken agreement that went beyond Never Duva. To perhaps even Never Us.

Bonus: An excerpt of Nestaq in Kingdom of Ash.

A soft spot—her ruk had developed a soft spot and an undimming admiration for Sartaq’s mount. Though Nesryn supposed the same could be said about her and the ruk’s rider. Nesryn tore her eyes from the swirling gray clouds and glanced to the rider at her left. His shorn hair had grown out—barely. Just enough to be braided back against the wind. Sensing her attention, the Heir to the khaganate signaled, All is well? Nesryn blushed despite the cold, but signaled back, her numbed fingers clumsy over the symbols. All clear.

A blushing schoolgirl. That’s what she became around the prince, no matter the fact that they’d been sharing a bed these weeks, or what he’d promised for their future.

To rule beside him. As the future empress of the khaganate.

It was absurd, of course. The idea of her dressed like his mother, in those sweeping, beautiful robes and grand headdresses… No, she was better suited to the rukhin leathers, to the weight of steel, not jewels. She’d said as much to Sartaq. Many times. He’d laughed her off. Had said she might walk around the palace naked if she wished. What she wore or didn’t wear wouldn’t bother him in the least. But it was still a ridiculous notion. One the prince seemed to think was the only course for their future. He’d staked his crown on it, had told his father that if being prince meant not being with her, then he’d walk away from the throne. The khagan had offered him the title of Heir instead. - (Kingdom of Ash chapter 6)

And this shouts out Nesryn as Grand Empress!!!!!!!!

Sorry, Nesryn, but I've lived to see you in a dress like this.

It was great to make this post about that amazing couple, it was great to reread some of their scenes, and most of all, it's amazing to be able to bring this Appreciation to Nesryn and Sartaq. These two strong, interesting, brave characters, who have known pain and loss, but have not become victimized or angry at the world. Sartaq and Nesryn made a difference in Throne of Glass, yes. And Tower of Dawn is one of the best books I have ever read in my entire life.

Seeing Nesryn smiling more, even feeling her face hurt from laughing so hard.... That was priceless.

Nestaq is the couple that has respect, admiration, trust and equality as the basis for their relationship. At all times Sartaq treated Nesryn as an equal, always showed the admiration he felt for her, never underestimated her or put her aside, on the contrary, Sartaq took Nesryn ahead of all the clans of the rukhin, and made it clear to his father that she was worth more to him than the crown of one of the largest empires in the world.

Nestaq will always have a special place in my heart.

✧*。Wind-Seeker and her Winged Prince✧*。

✧*。The Commander of the rukhin, the future Khagan and his Neith's Arrow✧*。

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