#and his response was: Ask Nisha

[langernameohnebedeutung]

Hey, I wanted to say I really love your takes on Borderlands, particularly with Nisha and her relationship with Jack. I wanted to get your thoughts on that particular line in the DLC where Jack said it's always me doing all the work and she goes I've said that before. I've noticed some fans tend to take that joke seriously and I thought of it as a light-hearted joke between those two. What are your thoughts?

hmm...I feel like there are several layers to this? Or at least, from what we know and don't know about their relationship, there are different possible interpretations of it.

(Like, I wrote one Nisha/Jack fic where this definitely was the case ...but in fairness that was also right after Jack got the vault-symbol punched in his face so-)

I think one very simple layer of this is that Nisha just very consistently likes to poke fun at Jack. We see a lot of that in Borderlands 2. Which is really an aspect of her personality - she likes to make jabs at other people. So yeah, obviously if he says something like that and she has a good comeback, she's not going to let that slide.

And on a deeper level of that: I think it's important to keep in mind that Jack and Nisha are both very dangerous people with extreme trust issues. Who somehow try to make a relationship work. And on the one hand, it makes sense that these two would get on like a house on fire. But on the other hand, it's kind of an undertaking that relies on a LOT of mutual understanding and trust. For that relationship to work, these two people, who are in the eyes of everyone else (except maybe Wilhelm who doesn't care) a duo of sadistic hypocrites, need to find a way to integrate each other into their very self-centred worldview. Their entire modus operandi is to apply rules to others that they don't apply to themselves - or to one another. And I think their banter is (on a subconscious level) one way of confirming "hey, things are good, we're having fun, I'm happy in this relationship, I still care about you" without ever being forced to be deep about this.

This is something that we also get a lot with Nisha: When Nisha says mean stuff about people, there is often a wide difference in quality. It makes a huge difference whether you are her friend that she wants to poke fun at, some idiot NPC that she considers below her notice, someone she just happens to dislike for her own reasons (like Moxxi in the beginning of TPS) or someone she has a sincere vendetta against (like Lilith and Moxxi at the end of TPS). What really sets all of these apart is the tone and the way in which she says those rude things. And whether she makes threats. That's why Nisha engaging in friendly banter with Jack is a pretty important aspect of their communication.

Another aspect I think is that Nisha and Jack are very performative people. Like, one of them puts up golden statues, and the other one larps as a western Sheriff. And while I think there are slightly different reasons for this (I think Jack buys more into his image or at least...depends more on it to feel good about his more monstrous side. While Nisha's more chill side seems a lot more authentic and more "two parts of the same coin" rather than "mask"), I also think that their relationship and especially THEIR ability to get along and THEIR ability to take criticism from one another and THEIR ability to understand each other's...pretty impenetrable moral code is something that they can have a lot of fun with. Because now they can project out at the world: "See how perfectly we reasonable we are? We are sure getting along. We don't understand why you all insist on not simply getting with the very evident and not-at-all-murderouly-hypocritical programme."

Now, I think the big question for a lot of people in the fandom is: How much (does it?) reflect on their actual sex life.

And ...without much contex about their actual relationship, I think there are several interpretations are possible:

Nisha literally just says it to be funny. As in, she just thought it was a funny moment to say that line. Like a "yo mama" joke.

The joke is that Nisha said it before in a different context that the Vault Hunters know about. e.g. the fact that Jack rarely accompanies them to their mission.

Or it is indeed a comment on their sex life. The thing is, I feel like the insinuation has always been that their sex life is pretty damn good. I think there is even a confirmation of that from Anthony Burch himself but I cannot be bothered to look for it - really, my reasoning is that Nisha is presented as a very sexual person and these two are often presented as very much on the same wavelength sexually. Quite frankly, I don't think Nisha would stay if she was genuinely unhappy with their sex life. A possible interpretation I do see is that they are both Nisha very canonically, Jack frequently implied, switches. So I think if we were to take the comment at face value and assume that a) she really "said that before and b) it was about sex - I would interpret it as "she has been playing the dominant part a lot lately"

[peapod20001]

okay I gotta go to bed bc I took my sleep meds but real quick before I go sleepytime: does he have any hobbies? what's the story behind how he got his pet duck bunny thing?

As nerdy as it sounds, he likes to learn!! He enjoys reading books and solving riddles, learning world history and the sciences... Keep his mind occupied and focused one one thing at a time instead of multiple things at once. You’ll never catch him playing sports, but he can enjoy watching others play (i. e. His boyfriend)

Ash was gifted Renu (his bunny bird) by his Mother. She noticed how lonely he gets (since his daughter didn’t need 24/7 care anymore, and he wasn’t in a relationship), so she thought taking care of a pet would help to take his mind off things. It worked for the most part, but he’s ALWAYS thinking about things

[ask-the-real-kach1ng]

🔥! Ask Misha Bachynskyi !🔥

OOC

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

This will be an Ask Misha Bachynskyi account! Just some ground rules however, I am a minor so please do ask somewhat appropriate questions.

This ask account will have drawings, yet only sometimes!

Some messages will have a green response from Mischa.

Misha Info/HCs:

Mischa was revived with the rest of the cast. He prefers not to talk about the Cyclone incident.

Penny is like a little sister to him.

Misha is still in love with Talia

Doesn't believe he's Bi (yet.)

Lives in the basement of his adoptive parent's house. Father is abusive verbally and physically

This will be a Nisha/Nishalia thing soon, but we'll let that slowly burn. (Feel free to try and persuade him. Also Nishalia, Noel will not be romantically interested in Talia, but rather they share a boyfriend.)

Might have a slight crush on Noel but will constantly deny it since he is with Talia (sighh soon to be poly..)

He misses Ukraine badly.

For Answers, check out #kach1ng ask blog answers !!

@ask-a-gay-choir-boy is Noel in this Mischa's Universe @ask-ocean is Ocean in this Mischa's Universe

@askrickypotts is Ricky in this Mischa's Universe

@ask-a-doll-enthusiast is Penny in this Mischa's Universe!

Ask away! 💖

[dextraicarus1994]

Here is another oc, this one was created recently, meet Detective Jacob Corwing. Here I share his lore:

Jacob Corwing

Birth Date: January 10th, 1984.

Birth Place: Chicago, Illinois.

Eye color: Blue.

Height: 6'1".

Age: 40 years.

Hair color: Copper blonde.

Nationality: American.

Gender: Male.

Affiliation: Private Detective, Former FBI, CIA and DEA agent who quit after having enough in dealing with the corruption from every agency he used to work.

Allies: Marcus Williams (Jacob is the only human who knows about Marcus demon form and the existence of the hell realm thanks to an incident facing some supernatural beings), succubus Nisha, Kyle García, Igal Caine, Boris and Remo Montgomery, demon Hoover.

Enemy: Zadkiel "The Demon King" Jones (serial killer who is wanted for the murder of Jacob's family and multiple serial murders).

Biography: Not many know about Corwing's past, but as a classic detective story, it has been speculated that he used to have a family who were killed by the serial killer Zadkiel Jones in a mocking of his marvelous career as a top agent of the law. In searching for justice to find the killer and avenge his family, Jacob got into many messes that made him discover not only the whereabouts of Jones and his horrifying crimes, but also discovered a thread of corruption in all the agencies he used to work in. As a man who wanted not only to bring justice to his loved ones, but to protect innocents to not have the same fate as him under the serial killer rampage, Corwing quit every agency and work by his own, searching, interrogating with brutal force every one who got information about Zadkiel, becoming into a big obsession that not only is taking most of his life, but also his own sanity.

Things got more complicated when he met ex-MARSOC soldier / vigilante Marcus Williams, who not only shared the same objective: Protect innocents; but also he would discover a dark secret from the man that would bring him into the supernatural realm.

Now having to deal not only with the search of Zadkiel Jones, but also face supernatural beings in his life, there are times that Jacob only wants to have some peace and just forget everything, but as a stubborn man, he has a vow code that guides his nature: "Protect and serve".

Skills: As a former FBI, DEA and CIA agent, he has a lot of knowledge of the mafia world, government bureaucracy and secret projects and discoveries that had never been known to the public. Also he is a perceptive man who checks every detail around a crime scene, he is guided by evidence, detects when a person is trying to lie to him and a sharp shooter with his 92 FS INOX who treasured with all his heart and doesn't let anyone touch it, some speculate that the gun was given to him by his wife, however, Jacob has remained reserved regarding such a statement.

Weakness: As a man who lost his way after dealing with the brutal murdered of his family, he suffers an extent PTS, to the point of becoming into psychosis where he hears voices of the ones he cares about, the only way to deal with the inner demons is just drinking and night clubs, even asked Marcus ally the succubus Nisha to help him with the mess of his mind, who without any hesitation, helps without any problem, many had thought that maybe there could be something more between the detective and the succubus, but Jacob had denied all involvement saying that a demon is best in keeping secrets than a human.

Family Murdered incident: Not so many know about what relationship Jacob and Zadkiel had in the past, many had said that both used to be great friends and great comrades during the FBI and DEA days, as Jones being a respectful doctor back then, both were responsible for bringing many criminals down thanks to their dynamic: Zadkiel as a great doctor to deduce the victims deaths and Jacob as the man who used to stop the killers. Both were invincible until that horrific day, when Jacob discovered a dark secret behind Zadkiel's "good doctor" facade: A serial killer obsessed with the perfection of the human body and recreation of Renaissance paintings with the bodies of their victims. Unfortunately for Jacob, one of those victims was his wife and daughter, who took a tragic fate and became one of Zadkiel's horror crime scenes.

Falling into depression and a complete rage not only because the person he trusted most was also responsible for his family murdered. The worst part about the incident was that his daughter's body was never recognized since the flesh sculptures were unrecognizable and the DNA was lost during testing and corruption of the agencies. Now in complete grief, Jacob searches without no end the bastard that he once considered as a brother.

@quixtrix I tag you again ☺️🫶 and you @djsherriff-responses, my friend.☺️🫶 I will be posting more of my oc's this days (I hope).☺️🫶☺️🫶☺️🫶☺️🫶

[happypopcornprincess]

The Heartbreak Prince - Epilogue

Warnings: Major Spoilers for Top Gun (1986) and Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Word count - 3K

A/N - Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me till the end of this series. I had a fantastic time writing Nisha and Bradley. Many thanks to this request to jumpstart this idea in my mind. You are welcome to send asks and recommendations to my inbox. Here you go then, one last chapter for The Heartbreak Prince. Hope y'all like it! :)

Italics are thoughts and/or emphasized words Taglist is open and feels free to request headcanons or drabbles on this series

Series Masterlist

My Main Masterlist

Send your requests here!

Two weeks later, Saturday

The Hard Deck was now the bar of The Dagger Squad. They would flood the place every weekend, trying to ward off the week's wariness The squad would take turns buying everyone rounds of drinks. By night's end, the bar was filled with laughter, stories, and support for each other. This became the weekly tradition for The Dagger Squad, a place to unwind with their squadmates and enjoy the weekend, and exchange stories with each other.

All but one of them was absent today.

Sitting on the beach behind the bar, Bradley looked at the horizon. Holding in his hands was what would change his life forever.

It was there. Right there in his hands. A letter that Cyclone gave him after announcing to the team that Bradley was offered a position in Spain. This was everything he had worked for, all those years training and perfecting every move. There were claps, pats on his back, and proud smiles all around.

Despite that, he still felt empty inside.

“Bradley.” A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Pete sat next to him, smiling as he rubbed his shoulder.

“Hey,” he tried to smile, but a frown appeared instead. Pete laughed, “Phoenix and Fanboy searched you inside. I suspect it will end up with you on the piano."

“Nishi is here.” He blurted out.

Pete raised his eyebrows, shocked, “the- your friend from high school?”

“Mav…” Bradley looked him in the eyes, trying to tell him that he fell for her hopelessly, immensely, madly. In realization, Pete's eyes softened, and he laughed out loud as he smiled. “Glad to see you finally realized."

The only thing Bradley could do was laugh in response, confused as to what he was implying.

“Bradshaw…” Pete slapped a hand on his shoulder. "You have been in love with her since ’99. Bagchi had you whipped. She would follow you anywhere, and you would do the same. I knew you would end up together one day or another, but… you left and…” he sighed.

They looked at each other, speechless now, trying to find words for what was running on in their minds.

Pete looks at his dearest Godson. “Bradley, this letter is right here,” he points to his hands. "This is an excellent opportunity for you. I’m not boosting your ego but after the last mission, you caught the eyes of some higher-ups. If you do this, you can be promoted to lieutenant commander.”

Bradley looked at him, his estranged father figure, his mentor with whom he had been cross for so many years, the person who took a missile for him, quite literally. He just wanted to help, wanted what was best for him, to save him from making the same mistakes he did.

“Hey,” Pete straightens up, “I can only show you what paths lie before you Bradley, which one you choose to walk on. That decision is yours.”

He pats Bradley on the back and leaves him to his thoughts.

Bradley doesn’t move, he looks at the setting sun on the horizon, the sky turning bright pink and red.

Nisha Bagchi was like blue wildflowers in spring, the first monsoon rainfall. The doors of her home were always open for him, and he never felt like he did not belong. This is even though he was nothing like her.

The smell of new books, long dark hair braided on her shoulder, spilled ink on her fingers, her kind heart that welcomed everyone, and eyes like dark chocolate. If he could go back to ’99 and play out their first meeting, he would tell her how beautiful she was. She needed that back then; he was too lost in his head to notice it.

She deserves peace. Someone who holds her tight and tells her they love her every day. Someone who could make her laugh her whole life. Someone who won’t leave her without saying goodbye.

But he gets goosebumps recalling the skip in his heartbeat every time his plane takes off, the smell of hot leather in the cockpit, looking down to see the tiny buildings and houses, taking a deep breath after pulling the G’s, the thrill of pulling the controls and going faster than sound.

Flying with his comrades, the banter on the radio, the delight of flying above the clouds where he swears, he could feel the presence of his dad, that lovable, kind-hearted man he had so little time with.

He stands up, folding the letter and tucking it in his pocket. He takes one last look at the ocean before returning to his friends.

He knew what he was going to do.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

She takes one last look in the mirror, smoothing her dress. A maroon blouse with a black mid-length skirt. Nisha took a deep breath before leaving the house and meeting Erin in his car.

“You look amazing.” He says as she sits in the passenger seat.

“Please tell me this is a good idea, I-" she was immediately shushed.

“No! no,” Erin points at her, “you are heading to the meeting after your shift. I will wait for you at the center. And I will walk inside with you if you want me to.”

Nisha tried not to cry at that moment, but her eyes were moistened and Erin handed her a napkin. She told him a few days ago that she was thinking of therapy. Erin helped her find names and information about support groups and meetings around town. This was her first day.

“You want to get better Nishi; you told me yourself. You choose to remain kind and caring after suffering through hell and back. Asking for help is the bravest thing can do. And yes, this is not an awful idea, instead, it will make you feel better. Pinky swears.”

He lifts his little finger and shoves her shoulder. As she holds his little finger with hers, Nisha laughs through tears.

“Pinky swears.” She smiles.

“Okay then,” Erin puts on the radio and revs up the engine, “let’s get you to your workplace so you can teach… science and stuff!”

Windows down, and their hair blowing in the wind, they laughed driving through the neighborhood. They took the road running along the beach towards UC San Diego.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Closing her office door and finally done with the day, Nisha descended downstairs. The building was almost empty. Outside, it was a fine evening. The lectures proceeded well, no students requested grades, and the cafeteria had cheesecake for lunch.

Leaving the science building, she waves to some of her colleagues and smiles at the evening sky. Bringing a storm with them in a couple of hours, dark blue clouds floated above, the same shade as-

She shook out of the thought and looked ahead at the road through the Uni. She met the sight of the blue Bronco that had just run through her mind.

Leaning against it, with aviators on, was Bradley Bradshaw.

He was the smell of earth on a rainy day, the first sunshine rays after a snowfall. His hugs always feel full and safe, his heart ready to bleed out for his loved ones.

His smile even with braces on, his unruly outgrown curls falling on his forehead, his chocolaty brown eyes that calmed her on her worst days.

Her Sunny, her first love.

She stops in her tracks, gazing his way, her visceral thoughts invading like they always do with Bradley. He takes off his glasses and waves at her, smiling softly.

Like he used to when they were younger.

She stops in her tracks a few feet away, wearing jeans and a white full sleeve under his open Hawaiian shirt. A soft sigh leaves Nisha’s lips and she speaks, “I heard you were leaving.”

Bradley straightens up, obviously shocked at how she knows, “how did you-“

“Erin heard you guys at the bar," Nisha replied.

“Oh.” That’s all he said, as he shoved his hands in his jeans.

They stayed like that for a while, looking at each other as people passed by them, unaware of the absolute chaos going inside their minds.

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder, “What are you doing here Bradley?” she asks sternly.

He takes a deep breath, “I was… I wanted to tell you… that I’m…” he stutters.

Nisha turns suddenly, and walks off without looking back.

“I’m sorry Punk!”

That makes her halt. His words seem so desperate, laced with guilt and sadness.

Nisha turns to see him standing there, his chest heaving, “I’m so, so, sorry for what I did.” He was looking her right in the eyes, and he walked closer, “I was young, and sad, and angry at the entire world. I wasn’t thinking straight. The day I left, I did it out of spite. I was sitting in the plane halfway to UVA that I realised what I did, leaving you behind.”

Every word hits her straight to the heart. The sincerity in his eyes scares her, she had never seen that before, “When I would call you, I wanted to say sorry, I wanted to mend things between us… I could never gather the courage to stand up to my mistakes, I… I’m sorry to leave you like that. I didn’t even say goodbye”

He sniffled as he walked closer, now a few feet in front of her, all while Nisha was cemented in her place.

“Before you, I didn’t even know what friendship was, it was just me and my mom. You were the first one to look past my appearance, you were nothing but kind to me. I was an idiot, I… Nishi, I… I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He gulps, his gaze unwavering.

Her chest tightened hearing that, and she opened her mouth to contradict him, but he gestured her to stop, “Nishi… I know something happened to you, something that made you feel like you don’t deserve love. You’re wrong. You deserve peace, and joy, and every good thing that life has to offer.” Nisha’s vison blurred with tears.

She stepped towards him to stop him and Bradley stepped back, “I’m not that person.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Bradley stares at his shoes, unable to look at her anymore. The gentleness in her eyes was too much for him to stare into. But he couldn't get himself to leave either. Looking at his tears, he breathes deeply and prepares to depart.

Warm hands enclose his. Startled by the touch he looks forward, right into the brown eyes that always soothed him.

Nisha smiles through tears, “If you think punishing yourself for what happened will make this better, you’re wrong.” His hands hold on to hers tighter.

“You were the light that never dimmed, you were my laughter, and you were my support. We can’t change what happened, nobody can.” She looks at their touching hands. “Nobody blames you for what happened. You suffered a loss no child deserves, and soon you lost your mentor.”

He shut his eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry Nishi… I never wanted to hurt you… I… I never…”

“Hey,” he felt her caressing his face, “It’s alright.”

His eyes opened to see her face close to his, so close he could feel her body heat.

He breathes out, “I don’t deserve…“

"Don't," she said, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Don’t say that.”

It seemed as if a storm was coming, as the dark clouds loomed overhead became darker and the wind blew faster.

But they stood there unbothered by what was happening around them.

“I’m not leaving.” Bradley blurts out.

Nisha’s eyes blew wide hearing so, “but… Erin said…”

“…that it’s Spain, good opportunity… I know.” A smile creeps through his face, “I was called to teach fighter maneuvers. I can do that by staying in Miramar.”

Nisha’s mouth hangs open in shock. "You're not leaving?” she asks in disbelief.

“Nah,” He whispers, smiling as her shock turns into joy. Warmth spread inside her chest, and she laughed out loud.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, engulfing him in a tight hug. And without warning, Bradley picked her up and swung her around.

She squeals, “Put me down!” laughing in his neck crook.

As she's back on the ground, he holds her waist, and her chest meets his, his face flushed red.

Nisha holds his face in her hands. “Promise me, the next time you leave, you won't be without saying goodbye.”

And in a heartbeat, he answers, “I’m not leaving Nisha, I’ll never leave again." I’m right where I should be."

/-/-/-/-/--/-/-/-/-/-

Nisha was waiting to see if this was a dream. She had plenty in the past about her and Bradley in the past. His face in her palms just inches away from hers, his sandy hair blowing in the wind, his brown eyes looking right inside hers.

Her eyes leave him for a second to gaze at his lips, and when she finds his gaze again, she finds him doing the same.

Bradley leans forward as the first drops ascend from the sky. She meets him halfway. Nisha wraps her arms around his shoulders, heavy rain washing them, and his lips move in tandem with hers. They stand in the rain, oblivious to the world around them. Their kiss lasts for what seems like an eternity until they finally part. Bradley looks into Nisha's eyes and smiles, knowing that nothing else matters in that moment.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

They didn’t have to say I love you. They knew now how much they loved one another. They were two pieces of a puzzle solved.

People run to the nearest shelter, but stand there, lost in each other’s touch.

After years of searching for one, they were finally home.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A/N - Any and all requests, headcanons, and drabble requests about this AU are mostly welcome. Love y'all, Take Care!

Tag List:

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @ijustwantavacation @perpetuelledaydreaming @iamthebeth @thefandomqueenuno @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @hoeensficrecs @samwilson-mylove @xbuchananbarnes-deactivated @jenniweaslee @anna-phora @fluffyprettykitty @ladiesluver @weigheddownbyfandoms

[supergoodfilmanalysis]

What Will People Say viewing response

What Will People Say culminates in a turbulent, breathtaking scene where Nisha's father stands above her on a cliff, urging her to jump. Nisha follows him out to the cliff, cautiously asking where they're going--under the impression they're on their way to get something to eat--and soon realizes why he's brought her here. The two are physically representative of their respective power statuses; Nisha's father stands with his back facing the camera while Nisha faces the audience, half-turned to the canyon in front of her in incredulous horror as she realizes her father truly meant everything he's said to her.

Nisha's blocking in this scene represents a chief accomplishment of the film--she often finds herself wordless, unable to articulate herself, ultimately aware that whatever she says won't matter at all in the end, and through her physicality manages to convey so much. Nisha's actress masterfully embodies a sort of stoic fear that resists spoken description, and in this scene where there might in other circumstances be an overwhelming loudness, a pleading for life, she is fearful but in such a way where it feels like she realizes she has nowhere else left to go and cannot conjure a voice within her to even resist her circumstances. The scene quickly cuts to the two walking down the street, and the audience is never clued into how the standoff finished or what the resulting consequences were. This film constructs so much of its story through visual storytelling and when words are used, they're often blunt and right to the point--the lack of subtlety carves out little room for interpretation in What Will People Say, a title that perfectly reflects the direct nature of the messaging. The dichotomy of loudness and silence plays a tremendous role in the film's tone; Nisha is constantly experiencing policing at the hands of her family and the structural forces her family affairs are inextricably linked to, and any noise she makes gets harshly quelled into nothingness. The ending, where she runs away and through the window silently faces her father who watches her leave, is demonstrative of her silence as a form of strength.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[kerra-and-company]

I am surprised it wasn't asked yet for the ask-game ;?: Either Kerra or Rel? 🥰

Nope, you're the first one! Everyone's managed to ask for someone different this time, which is actually pretty incredible (not that I ever mind doubling up on folks, to be clear--that's fun too!). And absolutely--why not both of them? :D <3

Kerra

01. Full name: Kerralind

02. Best friend: Rel

03. Sexuality: biromantic, demisexual, polyamorous

04. Favorite color: purple (in general, but also did you know there's a color called Tyrian purple? because I didn't until a minute ago!)

05. Relationship status: taken (by Canach and Nisha)

06. Ideal mate: cares a lot, willing to joke but also to be sincere, fierce but not uncompromising

07. Turn-ons: standing up for others/for your beliefs, just...doing badass things (I was trying to find a general category that includes giving a speech to rally the Pact as well as casually blowing up towers in Kourna), open affection

08. Favorite food: has a few, but the peppermint Wintersday cakes are definitely on that list

09. Crushes: if current partners work for this, then them (and

10. Favorite music: varies--songs/music that she connects with due to the lyrics/themes, things that Rel's written (and ones they wrote together), songs with complicated musical accompaniment

11. Biggest fear: failing to protect the people she loves, and the world (or, phrased differently, being helpless to protect the people she loves--and the world)

12. Biggest fantasy: never having to step in to save the world again because it doesn't need to be saved anymore, just improved a bit maybe

13. Bad habits: she's self-sacrificing as all hell, so that definitely goes here; so does her tendency to stop talking about her negative emotions when she's having a hard time (though the second one's definitely less of a problem now than it used to be)

14. Biggest regret: you're asking the monarch of taking too much responsibility for things what she regrets? what she feels guilty about? that's going to be a long list, friend

15. Best kept secrets: the exact amount of blame she was putting on herself for the first year and a half or so of her existence

16. Last thought: "I think I'll pick up hot chocolate on the way home."

17. Worst romantic experience: the assorted times she's almost lost her partners, I'd say; from a different angle, the fact that the first person she had a crush on basically managed to disappear off the face of Tyria

18. Biggest insecurity: she's not always certain of her decisions and does the best she can, but aside of that, I can't think of anything super major she's insecure about

19. Weapon of choice: any combination of sword/dagger/torch, and longbow as well

20. Role Model: Caithe (in some ways), Almorra

(Rel's is under the cut because this got long!)

Rel

01. Full name: Relethen

02. Best friend: Kerra

03. Sexuality: gay

04. Favorite color: emerald green

05. Relationship status: taken (by Trahearne)

06. Ideal mate: curious, dedicated, kind, willing to have discussions about assorted topics

07. Turn-ons: righteous anger, genuine enthusiasm, anyone he already has feelings for actively trying to flirt in whatever way

08. Favorite food: sugar cookies, chocolate omnomberry cake

09. Crushes: again, if current partners are viable here, then Trahearne (and as far as past things go, he had a crush on one of his friends in Maguuma before he and Nisha left)

10. Favorite music: songs that tell stories, in some way or another

11. Biggest fear: that his child will somehow end up with a childhood that is in any way similar to the one he and Nisha had

12. Biggest fantasy: to have a quiet and "normal" life forever, or at least for a very long time, with his family and plenty of books

13. Bad habits: drinking too much coffee, not getting enough sleep

14. Biggest regret: not truly seeing how badly Nisha was doing (or how badly he himself was doing) until their mother died and neither of them could ignore it anymore

15. Best kept secrets: Mordremoth's relationship with the sylvari (up to HoT; mostly kept hidden by accident); his feelings for Trahearne (not really, but he'd jokingly say this if you asked him this question personally)

16. Last thought: "The children never put the sheet music back in the folders. Maybe we should color-code them?"

17. Worst romantic experience: probably the entirety of HoT--though it does end well in my canon, the whole airship crash and not knowing for sure if Trahearne was even alive or not was a whole thing--but secondarily, coming back to his old village and finding out that his first crush and the rest of the population had been absolutely wiped out can also be included here if you stretch a bit

18. Biggest insecurity: his capabilities as a fighter--right up until HoT, at least; nothing like being dropped into a jungle full of Mordrem to prove to you that you're capable of surviving

19. Weapon of choice: scepter/warhorn, as well as a battlestaff that he and Nisha designed together

20. Role Model: Nisha (in some ways), his mother (previously, not currently), Ceera

[owlbearwrites]

For wip Wednesday could you work on seismic please?

Thank you!

Here's a bit from Seismic. For a bit of context, a former girlfriend and current friend is picking up one half of the main couple for his (overdue) bachelor party, and can't help being a dick to the wife. She's not jealous, by the way, and it's not a love triangle. She simply enjoys being an ass.

***

She looks Meg up and down, from the rims of her reading glasses to her bare feet, and makes no effort to hide it.

“See anything you like?” Meg asks her. The woman smirks.

“No.”

The pause is long enough for Meg to say something, but this is one of the rare cases when she’s stumped for a response. Unforgivable, for a lawyer.

Nisha clearly likes it.

“Don’t take it personally, doll.” She winks. “I don’t often go riding that side of the tracks, is all.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Meg retorts. She’ll be damned if she misses two in a row.

“Oh, did I stare a bit too hard? Must’ve left my manners somewhere. Guess I was just surprised. You’re not exactly what I expected, you know?”

She shouldn’t take the bait. She shouldn’t take the bait. She shouldn’t. But she asks anyway.

“And what, or should I say, whom, were you expecting?”

“Well, for starters, I thought you’d be more pregnant.”

“Why would I—” Meg starts, and then it all clicks into place. She smiles. “Right. Because that’s the only reason Jack would marry someone like me.”

“Honestly? Only reason he’d marry anyone, as far as I’m concerned. Didn’t think I’d ever see him tie the knot, unless it’s around someone’s neck.”

“That was last Thursday. I’m sure Jack will be happy to tell you all about it.”

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Hi Anon. You also get an "essay style" response from yours truly. (The other one is sitting in the inbox somewhere, along with other things).

if you don't write for readers or socialization through interests.

I feel like it has been made abundantly clear that is actually why Nisha/Sunny writes and shares fics. Those two things are in fact intertwined too. The point is to talk and have conversations. Except people don't comment so that's very limited.

do not expect notoriety and admiration for this anymore

What? Now correct me if I'm wrong, but that's what being asked for. At all. In fact, I believe Nisha doesn't like notoriety at all. Fics getting popular are anxiety inducing for her. She's asking for camaraderie, not notoriety.

if you can’t complete something you’ve committed to already to a multitude of people, don’t do it? don’t say you will with schedules and promises just to fall short?

I don't know if you know this but a lot of things happen. Especially when you have chronic illnesses/disorders. Even without that lots of things happen and writers don't update or write for various reasons.

you cannot demand every reader and follower to comment on your eloquent authoring, reblogging every thing you write when it’s your interest, and interacting with you.

Yeah. But the ratio from likes to reblogs, even blank reblogs is astounding, and it's not just on this blog. And reminder, every time Nisha brings this up it's about all writers because she's noticed it happen to others too. So yeah, not everyone has to, but more people should.

not when you don’t respect the people who have given you a platform and the opportunity to spout ignorance.

I also feel like it's been made abundantly clear that Nisha does respect and love the people who interact with her. Do I agree with every single thing she says ever? No. And that's great. I don't need to be in an echo chamber. And for the record I don't really think any of it is ignorance.

don’t expect more than what you give.

I don't even think you realize what is being given. I'm a writer. I'm a slow writer. Because it's so hard. Nisha writes long, beautiful fics. And even the ones that aren't that long have so much in them. There's so much work into saying what's needs to be said through the chosen way.

maybe ask for critique and commentary AFTER you COMPLETE something and not with a bunch of unfinished work and not fall short on promises. AFTER you have respectful conversations. we’re done lol.

Commentary can happen during something. It's called a reaction. And some things are completed. Is the entire fic finished? No. But that chapter is. Critique and commentate on that chapter. That's actually how you get more sometimes! Also I don't get why you need to be respectful after something is done? That should usually be the default. And not being respectful about this, in these settings, won't really get you a conversation. That'll just be an argument, which isn't really the thing that should be happening.

-Rotten Anon

waking up to what that anon said literally turned my brain into (mentally ill) mush for the day, so you have responded to this really well.

like - one of the biggest reasons I write primarily oneshots instead of having active multichapter series is because people love to act as if I am unreliable and flaking out on a promise when I don't finish a series. people act like I'm villainous and doing it on purpose to hold their favourite story hostage? when there is so much more going on in my life that means I don't have the time or energy to write that story

and that person was talking about me not responding to asks or comments - over the past few days, I haven't been responding to asks or comments about Careful, because I am so emotionally exhausted when it comes to that fic, and I don't want to come off as rude when responding to people who are very enthusiastic about the fic when I am not feeling enthusiastic about it right now. I am upset about it - I am worn out and frustrated. so I would rather leave those comments unanswered instead of making rude, short comments just to say something to people

I responded to that anon in a sarcastic way, but they managed to summarize all of my insecurities about my writing in one post, and tbh, now that I have posted the last chapter of Careful, I may take a hiatus. because I can't stand it anymore

(I am probably never gonna write for CM ever again because the fandom reception is like this.)

anyway - thank you Rotten Anon. you are eloquent and smart as always

[fctedivided]

Unprompted ask. - @tiredstudents sent:

"Nisha, thank you for looking out for me, I wish to get to know you a bit better." (Daniel)

"Don't mention it, Daniel." The assassin giggled a bit in response, while finding it quite adorable, she did appreciate his words. "And aren't we doing it already?~"

[nadja-antipaxos]

CAN’T MAKE YOU HAPPIER NOW - TWO

Previously - One || Masterlist || Next - Three

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: swearing, more casual racism from Logan, Logan hits Iverson, smoking, oral sex (male receiving).

Note: Thank you all for the lovely response to this fic especially to Nisha! It means so much more than you could know. Please leave comments if you so desire. I love hearing from you. The last chapter was more Kendall's POV and this one is Nisha's proving that it's not that easy to be married to him.

Word Count: 4,267

RECNY is one of Nisha’s least favorite nights of the year. A designer loans her a dress and jewelry while she watches the Roys be the most ineffective white saviors. She hasn’t seen much of Kendall for the past few days. Their first apartment has been empty for weeks now no longer needing to serve as his doghouse. He’s back home with his family and back in her bed, but he’s running around like a chicken with his head cut off. He’s always gone before she can get his attention. She feels on the outside again. He hasn’t even talked about his big speech. She had to find out from his assistant, Jess, that he was going to try to tell a joke. 

“Where’s your lesser half?” Stewy Hosseini leans over the back of his chair.

Nisha turns to face him. They had run into one another on the red carpet but didn’t have a chance to talk. She shrugs her shoulders. She wasn’t entirely paying attention when Connor came over and Kendall sprinted off. If he wants to be cagey, she’s not going to go after him, especially when there’s an open bar.

“Solving the Great Butter Emergency, maybe?” 

Stewy says something to his beautiful date before getting up and sitting in Kendall’s vacant chair. “What the fuck was that about?”

“No. Idea.”

His fingers drum on the golden tablecloth as he rests back in the chair.

“You look amazing.”

“You look…awake.”

Stewy looks her over in a way that she’s become very used to over the years. He actually had asked her out before Kendall did back at Harvard. She said no to both. Stewy leans in closer.

“Are you gonna congratulate me on being Shiva Tech’s newest shareholder?”

“Yeah, you’re really the little parasite that could, huh? Gnawing and sucking and feeding your way into big companies.” She picks up her wine glass and raises it. “Ram’ll make you choke on your own dick if you even think about fucking our company.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” Stewy smirks. 

“Don’t get cum on this dress.” Nisha crosses her legs. “It’s not mine.”

Stewy places his hand on his chest and groans. “Killing me, Nish.”

She waves him off and he leaves. Kendall sits down as she takes another gulp of red wine.

“Eat something. You’re looking whiter than usual.” Nisha nudges his plate towards him. 

“Uh-huh.” His eyes are searching the room. 

Nisha takes the fork and waves it in front of his face until he’s staring at her. She’s ready to shove bread into his mouth in front of all these members of the press and the other guests at their table. Thankfully, he picks at his plate and drinks his club soda.

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“Connor?”

“My dad’s, uh, giving the speech.”

Her brow lifts as she nods taking it in. She wonders if Logan can even walk to the stage. She places her small brown hand on top of his large white one.

“Want me to blow you?” She chuckles in his ear.

The corner of his mouth twitches with a hint of a smile trying to breakthrough. She squeezes his shoulder with her other hand. No use getting worked up over Logan. He’s always going to do what he wants. She thought Kendall would know that by now.

Nisha covers her mouth with the back of her hand as Stewy tells them of the bet about Logan’s fall. He’s her father-in-law. She shouldn’t laugh, but he’s also Logan Roy. He seems fairly lucid on stage and pretends to thank Kendall for taking over. Seeing her moment, Nisha claps loudly and Stewy clamps his hand on Kendall’s shoulder. The more intoxicated part of her brain wants to yell, but she isn’t feeling that reckless. Logan announces that he’s got his groove back, so everyone stands up. Nisha gets to her feet, but with her drink in hand. She drains the glass while the crowd claps. Kendall trots over to his dad and Nisha looks back at Stewy.

“He didn’t fall?”

“My houses are very grateful.”

In the car back to the apartment, Kendall’s sulking with his head in her lap.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” She pats the back of his head absentmindedly. 

“What?” His voice is muffled against the fabric of her dress.

“Universe really didn’t want you to make a joke.” She frowns.

Kendall doesn’t say anything. He just exhales out of his nose and scrunches up the sequins in her dress with his fingers.

Since Logan assumed his duties at Waystar, Kendall spends the week at the old apartment. He claims it’s easier because his dad is wrapped up in some new scheme, but Nisha’s skeptical. It’s certainly not easier for the kids and it’s not easier for her. Then he bows out of Thanksgiving in Westchester with her family. 

She finds her brother Ramesh sneaking a cigarette on the back porch. He offers the pack to her and she shakes her head. 

“Why don’t you just stay?” He taps the ashes on the railing. She looks back at the sliding glass door and sees Sophie and her cousin, Aisha, hopping on one foot trying to imitate a dance move. Iverson’s on the floor with his cousin, Raj, working on a train set. 

“You know I can’t do that.” Nisha looks out at the ocean. This place was one of the first things Ramesh and Kapil bought their mother when they made their first million. She and their stepfather absolutely love it.  It’s much calmer for the kids, but Nisha knows Kendall will never leave Manhattan.

“Fuck King Roy. “ Ramesh shakes his head. Seeing as they have no stake in the holiday whatsoever, it’s an excuse for all the Asuris to spend time together. Everyone brings a dish and Iverson and Sophie get to see their cousins. There are no mind games. No staff. No tension. Just some wine, maybe a game of cricket, and usually a performance by the grandchildren to end the evening. 

“I know you don’t wanna be there.” He stubs out his cigarette and looks at her. Ramesh has dark hair and eyes,  and the same smooth brown skin. To everyone else, he’s a very handsome, aloof, intimidating presence, especially at 6’4”, but right now, he’s just her big brother. “Have you thought about what we talked about?”

“Ram, I can’t.”

“You can. You shoulda done this 3 years ago.”

“He’s sober now.”

“Who fucking cares? He brought that poison into your children’s rooms. On their things. He—”

The door opens and her younger brother, Kapil pokes his head out with a playful smirk on his face. 

“Nish Nish looks sufficiently pissed. What did you do, Ramy?”

Kapil is lanky compared to his brother but still stands tall at 6’2”. His black facial hair grows in a little patchy and his shoulders are much more narrow.  He will always look like a  good-looking kid with a crooked smile no matter how old he gets. Maybe that’s why he acts like one too. Ramesh does all the salesmanship while he dreams up all their groundbreaking ideas. They’re a great team. Kapil nicks a cigarette from his brother’s pack and lights it up.

“I’m not divorcing Kendall.” Nisha steals his cigarette for one drag before handing it back. She sprays a bit of perfume in the air to get rid of the smell and rubs her eyes.  She moves back inside.

“500th time’s the charm?” Kapil crosses his fingers. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ramesh snatches the cigarette and extinguishes it.

It’s a hard bargain convincing the kids to leave the enjoyable holiday for one that’s going to be boring at best. She really does wish they could stay. She knows no one actually wants to see them either. They’re just props. With Logan’s recovery, she doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers this year. 

Sophie barely gets to sit down before Kendall inquires about Iverson. Nisha tries her best to put on a friendly face. He really didn’t want to go and it killed her to make him. Instead, she asks for a little patience and understanding for her child. Unfortunately, Logan will have none of it and demands his presence. 

“He just needs a moment, really. Transitioning from my mom’s to here. It’s a big day and that’s hard.”

Logan turns to Shiv and proceeds to mock her while Kendall mumbles instructions at her. He just wants to get out of there. Nisha clears her throat and Kendall’s already pleading with her to let it go.

“Remind me, sir, what medical school did you go to? Because if the doctor says he needs a minute, I’m gonna give him a minute. Otherwise, we can go back to Westchester,” she says with a polite smile plastered on her face. 

Logan’s brow furrows and Marcia interjects before he can reply, “Of course, we want the children here.”

“We’re just gonna go check on him.” Kendall tugs at Nisha’s elbow until she lets him lead her out of the dining room. 

Iverson’s in the middle of his Lego set and Kendall gives him a hug. Nisha wants so badly to scoop him up and take him back to her mom’s. Instead, she takes a calming breath and imagines kicking Logan off his balcony. 

“He didn’t have a great childhood.” Kendall sighs.

“Neither did my mom but she knows how to read a goddamn medical journal instead of shouting at people.” Nisha huffs. “She actually understands that Iverson—“

“Your mom is a doctor. He isn’t. He comes from a different world of thinking.” Kendall hands a piece to Iverson who attaches it to the plane he’s building. 

“Just go back in there, Ken. It’s the evil foreigner’s fault anyway.”

“I didn’t—no one said that, Nisha. He just wants us to have some boundaries.”

Nisha raises her eyebrows and just stares at her husband. Boundaries? Iverson isn’t in trouble. He’s not taking advantage of anyone. Does he even understand their child at all? Before she can ask, Marcia comes out reminding them that their bland turkey and mashed potatoes are getting cold. Like Nisha gives a fuck. At this point, she doesn’t even want to bring him in there. Kendall slinks away and she pulls out her phone. She could call her family. Make up an excuse. They’d back her. But then Logan brings his argument with his brother in front of them and takes out his anger on Iverson. He barks at him and Iverson obeys. Kendall does absolutely nothing. 

Unable to actually tell Logan off, she gets on her feet and mumbles to herself in Hindi. God, she could kick him for yelling at her child. 

“No—no snake charmer talk today.” Logan snaps at her.

Nisha licks her lips while Kendall just stares. Her voice is calm as she tilts her head up.

“Well, your grandkids are half snake charmer, but I’ll dial it back for the sake of this racist holiday”. She walks past them.

She joins Shiv and Willa’s conversation acting like nothing happened. They talk about Shiv’s most recent campaign and what kind of races she’s interested in working on. It keeps them busy until Marcia gathers them in the dining room for pie. She barely touches her plate having no appetite at all. Tom suggests they say what they’re thankful for. She’s thankful that she’s not stabbing Logan in the eye with her fork. She’s thankful she has enough self-control not to kick her husband in the shin. She’s thankful for years of bullying and learning to be stoic, so no one even notices she’s upset. Well, almost no one. Roman ropes her into the game pointing his fork at her. She really can’t think of anything nice to say and knows she shouldn’t say anything at all.

“I’m thankful I don’t have cholera. This is much more preferable.” She gives a tight-lipped smile and Roman’s satisfied.

She listens as Tom sucks up to the entire family, Connor reminds everyone he’s mentally on another planet, and Roman’s girlfriend gives an even more passive-aggressive answer than hers. Marcia suggests a game and Nisha is all too willing to go into the sitting room. She doesn’t even look to see if Kendall’s behind her. 

The game is a memory exercise and seems to waste everyone’s time. She covers Sophie’s ears as Roman suggests some x-rated items to buy at the market before he hands it off to Logan. He struggles to remember any of the previous items and to everyone’s surprise, Iverson tries to take the can away. Before anyone can intervene, they struggle with it until Logan clocks him in the face. Nisha leaps out of her chair and shields her son with her body. Logan moves forward and tries to brush it off. Nisha holds Iverson against her and looks up, furious.

“Get. Back. Now.”

Kendall’s yelling when Nisha ushers Iverson out of the room. There’s a pink bruise on his cheek and tears stream down his face. His small hands are locked together as he tries to process. It breaks her heart. 

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Kendall rushes over to them and inspects Iverson’s face. He whimpers and it takes all of Nisha’s strength to stay calm. She wants to take that can and hit Logan with it. But that won’t help Iverson. She looks at her husband who is equally shocked and livid. Iverson whimpers and the rage pulses through Nisha’s body. Kendall kisses his hair.

“We’re going home.”

“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

Sophie walks over to them, cautiously.

“He’s okay, right, buddy?” Nisha smiles at her son who nods. She needs to get her children out of there. She mutters to herself and Kendall stares at her. She realizes she’s speaking Hindi.

“I can get the coats.” Sophie nods.

“Go with your father, please.” Nisha sighs.

Sophie and Kendall walk off together and Iverson finally looks at her.

“Did I ever tell you about the time with Nani and the monkey?”

“What?”

“Yeah. She was your age and was going to school and this monkey came down from the trees and took her backpack.”

“No way.”

“I swear.”

“That’s so…funny. Monkeys don’t need backpacks.”

“No, they don’t.”

She hugs him against her chest and sighs. 

In the car, she tells them both a story her mother used to tell her about a protective mama tiger who saved her babies from hunters. She attacked all the hunters and took her cubs deep into the jungle where no one could ever hurt them again. 

“Sophie, did you know Nani’s backpack was taken by a monkey?” Iverson giggles. 

“What?” Sophie’s eyes widen.

Nisha laughs and tells the story again with more detail. They’re all exhausted by the time they get home, so she lets them watch one episode of cartoons before bed. From Sophie’s window, she sees a solitary circular orange glow on the terrace. Kendall must’ve changed and gone outside when she was with the kids. He doesn’t look at her as she approaches him. She plucks the cigarette from his hand and crushes it under her foot.  

“Fix this or I will.”

“Nish?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we talk?”

Nisha hands Kendall the laundry basket and he follows her into their bedroom. She crawls on the bed and stretches the fitted sheet over the large mattress. Kendall helps her get the corners even if he’s not as used to this as she is. She grew up with an immigrant single mother, so she can actually take care of herself and it’s something she’s passing onto their kids. 

“You gonna start?” She throws the duvet over the bed and tucks in the sides.

“We, uh, we’re gonna do a vote of no confidence on, uh, Dad.” He swallows hard. 

“Who is we?” Nisha places the pillow on the bed.

Clearly not the reaction he was expecting, Kendall crosses over to her and takes her hands. “Me, Rome, Gerri, Frank are leading it.”

“Do you have the votes?” She finally looks at him. 

“Y-Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your argument?”

“What?”

“Your reasoning for the vote.”

“Dad’s fucking nuts now.”

“And how are you gonna prove it?”

“You don’t need to lawyer this.”

She pulls her hands from his.

“Then why tell me?”

“Because, I don’t know, you’re my fucking wife and I want your fucking support on this.”

She finishes putting the pillows on the bed and sits down. She gestures for him to join her and moves into his lap. He won’t look at her as his hands settle instinctively on her waist. 

“I don’t give out gold stars for ideas, Ken.” Her hands rest on his shoulders and move down his arms. “You have to do this right or not at all. You need something standard to tell all the board members so that they know this isn’t personal—it’s business.” 

She lifts his chin up and their eyes meet. Why didn’t he tell her right away? Why doesn’t he want her involved? That’s what he promised. Maybe she has to remind him.

Her fingers make quick work of his belt and pull his pants down. It’s like his brain finally switches on because he lifts his hips and lets his slacks fall to his ankles. Her hand gently pushes his chest back onto the bed. He reaches for her and she shakes her head. 

“You didn’t marry some blindly loyal idiot, Kendall Roy.”

His brow furrows until her hand dances down his clothed stomach and rests between his legs. His breathing hitches as he looks down to watch her.

“You married me.”

She presses her face into his hardening crotch and mouths at the fabric.  His hips buck and he gasps as her hot breath tortures him. 

“Nisha…” He nods wordlessly with closed eyes as her slender fingers nudge the thin black fabric further down his hips freeing him. “N-Nisha, please.”

“Tell me what you want, baby.” She stops and gazes up at him. 

“You. Y-Your mouth, p-please.”

She takes him in hand and wraps her lips around him. He groans loudly at how perfect she feels. His fingers grope for her dark hair on his stomach desperate for something to grab. 

“Fuck, you’re so good. Fuck.” He whines. “Ooh, Nish. Yes.” 

His noises get louder and higher pitched as she licks and sucks and fondles him exactly how he likes.

“Ah, oh, baby, I’m gonna—“

But she’s no quitter and continues until he spills down her throat. She crawls over to him and smiles at the delirious look on his face. 

“So, you gonna let me help you?” 

“Yes. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

Nisha smiles. 

Kendall barely sleeps the night before the vote.  He tosses and turns so much Nisha considers another blowjob just so she can get some sleep.  Eventually, though, he stops moving. They get up before the kids and she makes him some coffee and breakfast.  

“This is what’s best for the business and the family. Keep strong. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Easy for you to say. It’s not your father.”

She sighs and shakes her head. 

“What?”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know.” 

“What does that even mean? You never talk about your dad. Just that he died.”

“And that’s all there is.” She puts her hand on his shoulder and he sighs. “Don’t pick a fight with me because you’re anxious. I’m on your side, remember?”  

Kendall just nods.  Nisha isn’t sure how to take that.

Roman informs Nisha of the failed vote, not Kendall. He doesn’t even come home. He files a lawsuit against his father immediately since he should not have been present for the vote. She finds out about that from Stewy of all people. He only talks to her when arranging visits with the kids and judging by their reactions when they get home—they’re not great. The kids are fine, but they seem happier back with her. It’s not a great feeling when she talks more to Shiv and Roman than her own husband. Nisha gives him two weeks before Kendall licking his wounds in private sulking like a petulant child has to stop. She marches over to his apartment and knocks her fist against the door. The housekeeper, Joanne, opens the door. 

“Please, let me in. I know he’s home.” 

“Mrs. Roy, he’s not here.”

She ignores the fact that her last name is not actually Roy, but Asuri-Roy, and tries to meet Joanne’s eyes. 

“I know he is because we have the same Find My iPhone account.”

“He’s busy.”

“I have keys.”

“Then I’ll change the locks.” Kendall appears behind her and moves to shut the door.

“Yeah except my name is on the fucking deed.”

He storms off and Joanne sighs, opening the door.

“Thank you. I don’t mean to put you in the middle. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

She rushes after her husband who sits on his bed pretending to read a book.

“Seriously?’

“Uh-huh.”

“I have two brothers. I will literally sit on your chest until you look at me.”

“Nish—”

She sits down on the bed to show she isn’t bluffing. He keeps his eyes on his book (which by the way is a shitty Dan Brown novel that everyone was upset about years ago, so no way he’s actually reading that). 

“It’s about Sophie. Kids are sending her that article on her Instagram. I deleted them before she saw them.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s probably your dad planting shit, but it says you’re using again. Stumbling through Manhattan delirious about a coup.”

He looks at her and anger flashes through his hazel eyes. 

“I’m not fucking using. I have been sober for 3 years. Do I need to show you the coins?”

“I don’t need to see the goddamn coins.” She throws her hands up.

“I got sober for you. For the kids.” He puts his book down.

“For us? Not for you?” She raises her eyebrows.

“And for me!” His voice cracks as he raises it.

“Don’t yell at me.” She sets her jaw, but her voice is calm as ever. “I didn’t—I didn’t sign up to be a single mom, Kendall. I can’t do this on my own.

Kendall leans forward. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m here. I see the kids.”

“Just the kids. I know this hurt you, but you’re hurting me. Just me. And I don’t know why.” She can’t hold back the tears this time and lets them slip down her face. Kendall won’t look at her. “Just fucking tell me.”

She’s tired of staying up late and wondering what could possibly be going through his head. Why was she the bad guy? She supported him. She left message after message about how sorry she was it didn’t work out. That she loved him. That she wanted him home. 

Kendall bends his knees staring at them instead of his crying wife. She huffs and struggles to move next to him on the large bed. He’s gonna fucking look at her if it’s the last thing she does. Her dark eyes zero in on him as she waits. He lets out a heavy sigh. She’s not prepared for the bitterness in his voice.

“Fuck! You were right. You’re always fucking right and I—I should’ve been more prepared. I should’ve talked to you and I didn’t—I wanted to be right.”

Her hand shakes as she wipes her eyes. She fights back more tears as she tilts her head back up to look at him. His eyes dart from hers to his hands. 

“I know what your family thinks of me. I’m a fuck up dragging you down and just once I wanted to prove them wrong.”

She bites her full lower lip and scrambles to think of what to say. Yes, Ramesh has never been a fan of Kendall’s, especially since the stint in rehab. Kapil likes to play Switzerland. Her mother just wants her and the kids to be safe and secure.

“It’s…” She takes a deep breath and tries to touch his hand, but he pulls it back. “It’s not you versus me. We’re a team, remember?” 

He clears his throat and puts the book on his nightstand. 

“When are you dropping the kids off? Or am I picking them up for the weekend?”

She holds back the cry and steels herself. He had nothing to say to her, huh?

“My mom got Iverson into see that specialist in Jersey. Friday. It’s the only time she can meet.”

“So, I can’t even see my kids? My fucking kids? Why are you punishing me? I’m not using drugs! I’m fucking stable.”

She sighs and rubs her temples. “We’ve been waiting on this specialist for two years.”

“I know you love being right, Nisha, but they’re my kids too. We get it, you’re the superior parent. I just want to see them.”

Nisha lets out a shaky breath and moves off the bed knowing where this is going.

“If you can’t let me do that then I don’t know why you’re  fucking here, Nisha. I really don’t.”

She nods and blinks back tears. “There’s, um, an email, from your dad. Roman forwarded it. You should probably read it.”

“I thought you were my wife, not my goddamn secretary.”

“I’m not the enemy, Ken. I’m the one who loves you, asshole.”

She storms out and he doesn’t even move. 

[demilypyro]

Taking this from a game design perspective, The Pre-Sequel introduced voiced story dialogue from the player characters since it was a way to inform their personalities and increase replayability. Borderlands 2 dabbled with it in some of its DLC, but it was TPS that went hard since it was largely about further exploring characters that had already been established in the universe.

Like Borderlands 3, TPS actually has its own scene where the player characters meet Moxie for the first time, except only *half* of them comment on Moxie’s appearance. Jack (the doppelganger) loses his shit because he’s not used to being around attractive women, Aurelia compliments Moxie’s chest, and Nisha quietly insults her by mentioning Jack (the real one) needs better taste. The rest of the character lines are... downright practical, seemingly uninterested, though Athena remembers meeting Moxie before in BL1 and is uncharacteristically friendly. Notably, NPCs will also react differently to the player characters in TPS, since unless it’s plot-important, they say very different things. Moxie has a different line for every player character, ranging from friendly to standoffish.

In Borderlands 3.... none of this happens. The player characters have voiced lines, but it’s always in a very cordoned-off context. They never go off-script, so to speak. NPC dialogue continues with no particular reaction to who you’re playing as. I’m pretty sure the BL3 characters don’t even get mentioned by name like the TPS characters do. An early example is Lilith asking why the player character became a vault hunter, the player character giving a unique response, and Lilith... reacting with a generic response that doesn’t acknowledge anything the player character said. When the BL3 characters meet Moxie, they all comment that she is attractive, except Zane, who almost manages to pull what Athena did in TPS by insisting that they’ve met before. Moxie, however, reacts with the same generic “haha yes” response no matter what.

Borderlands 3 gave each character unique voice lines like in TPS, but the NPC dialogue is the same in every playthrough, like in BL2. The result is.... jarring.

[rockislandadultreads]

Into the Stacks: Fiction Picks that take place in a Library

The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki

After the tragic death of his beloved musician father, fourteen-year-old Benny Oh begins to hear voices. The voices belong to the things in his house--a sneaker, a broken Christmas ornament, a piece of wilted lettuce. Although Benny doesn't understand what these things are saying, he can sense their emotional tone; some are pleasant, a gentle hum or coo, but others are snide, angry and full of pain. When his mother, Annabelle, develops a hoarding problem, the voices grow more clamorous. At first, Benny tries to ignore them, but soon the voices follow him outside the house, onto the street and at school, driving him at last to seek refuge in the silence of a large public library, where objects are well-behaved and know to speak in whispers. There, Benny discovers a strange new world, where "things happen." He falls in love with a mesmerizing street artist with a smug pet ferret, who uses the library as her performance space. He meets a homeless philosopher-poet, who encourages him to ask important questions and find his own voice amongst the many. And he meets his very own Book--a talking thing--who narrates Benny's life and teaches him to listen to the things that truly matter.

The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections by Eva Jurczyk

What holds more secrets in the library: the ancient books shelved in the stacks or the people who preserve them? Liesl Weiss has been (mostly) happy working in the rare books department of a large university, managing details and working behind the scenes to make the head of the department look good. But when her boss has a stroke and she's left to run things, she discovers that the library's most prized manuscript is missing. Liesl tries to sound the alarm and inform the police about the missing priceless book but is told repeatedly to keep quiet to keep the doors open and the donors happy. But then a librarian goes missing as well. Liesl must investigate both disappearances, unspooling her colleagues' pasts like the threads of a rare book binding as it becomes clear that someone in the department must be responsible for the theft. What Liesl discovers about the dusty manuscripts she has worked among for so long—and about the people who preserve and revere them—shakes the very foundation on which she has built her life.

The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams

Widower Mukesh lives a quiet life in the London Borough of Ealing after losing his beloved wife. He shops every Wednesday, goes to Temple, and worries about his granddaughter, Priya, who hides in her room reading while he spends his evenings watching nature documentaries. Aleisha is a bright but anxious teenager working at the local library for the summer when she discovers a crumpled-up piece of paper in the back of To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s a list of novels that she’s never heard of before. Intrigued, and a little bored with her slow job at the checkout desk, she impulsively decides to read every book on the list, one after the other. As each story gives up its magic, the books transport Aleisha from the painful realities she’s facing at home. When Mukesh arrives at the library, desperate to forge a connection with his bookworm granddaughter, Aleisha passes along the reading list… hoping that it will be a lifeline for him too. Slowly, the shared books create a connection between two lonely souls, as fiction helps them escape their grief and everyday troubles and find joy again.

The Night of Many Endings by Melissa Payne

Orphaned at a young age and witness to her brother’s decline into addiction, Nora Martinez has every excuse to question the fairness of life. Instead, the openhearted librarian in the small Colorado community of Silver Ridge sees only promise. She holds on to the hope that she’ll be reunited with her missing brother and does what she can at the town library. It’s her home away from home, but it’s also a sanctuary for others who, like her brother, could use a second chance. There’s Marlene, an elderly loner who believes that, apart from her husband, there’s little good left in the world; Jasmine, a troubled teen; Lewis, a homeless man with lost hope and one last wish; and Vlado, the security guard who loves a good book and, from afar, Nora. As a winter storm buries Silver Ridge, this collection of lonely hearts takes shelter in the library. They’ll discover more about each other, and themselves, than they ever knew—and Nora will be forced to question her brother’s disappearance in ways she never could have imagined. No matter how stranded in life they feel, this fateful night could be the new beginning they didn’t think was possible.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Kiss of Death

Warnings: nonconsent (fingering and intercourse)

This is dark!(mob)Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You (literally) run into a powerful man but find it hard to shake him.

Note: So we’re taking a tiny break from Painted Windows. The last chapter was intense and even my heart needs some respite. So I let myself wonder down the backstreets and wrote some mob!Loki with a good chance of a sequel.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

After a long day and a longer week, you were looking forward to the small get together. Several nights in a row you came home late and gulped down a microwave dinner before passing out on the couch. An unglamorous life, to say the least.

For Nisha’s birthday, you agreed to meet up at a nice restaurant downtown for drinks and hopefully dinner. Tiana and Ana were already there with Nisha as you rushed in. You weren’t used to being the last to arrive. Usually you were the first there and waiting for at least twenty minutes.

You gave a frantic greeting to the small group and dropped your purse in your empty chair.

“I’m so sorry. Nisha, happy birthday but I’m gonna burst,” You said as you caught your breath. 

They laughed at your panic and waved you towards the restrooms. You snaked around tables and to the narrow hall that led to the facilities. You were quick to sweep inside and into a stall. Your pants were barely past your thighs before you sat; the stream was painful and squeezed your bladder terribly. You sighed and took a moment to gather yourself as soft classical music plucked from the speakers.

Finished, you washed your hands and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your jacket hung open over your flowery blouse and pressed slacks. You wore a pair of low wedges that gave you a few inches. You were exhausted and you looked it. A night of drinking would surely wake you up… or at least lull you into the sleep you’d been lacking.

You smoothed out your shirt and slipped out of the jacket. You slung it over your arm and tried to fix your hair as best as you could. Your latest client was demanding and worse, a perfectionist. Usually, your suggestions were accepted without a single glance but Stacey Forrest was very particular. She needed to impress her new circle of peers; many twenty years her senior. Just thinking of her stabbed your temples with frustration.

You shook off the moment of chagrin and took a breath. Work was done. You had Saturday to sleep off the hangover you planned on feeding tonight. Sunday was far away at the present. 

You pushed open the door and strolled back to the dining room. You spotted the table of women awaiting you, giggling as they sipped from their respective glasses, and set off to join them. In your tunnel vision, you didn’t notice the party to your right. The man whom you walked directly into and barely kept you from tripping over his leather shoes. You were so embarrassed, you hardly realized how the entire room had gone silent.

You backed up and slipped free of the man’s grasp. You looked up at him and caught your coat before it could fall to the floor. 

“Oh, sorry,” You said as your cheeks burned. “I wasn’t…” You glanced around. “Paying attention…”

“It’s quite alright,” The lilt in his voice surprised you as much as the glimmer in his green eyes. “These things happen.”

“Yeah, I… Sorry again.” You sidestepped between some tables. “Um, okay.”

You spun away awkwardly as you tried to ignore your audience. Even Nisha, Tiana, and Ana had turned to watch the debacle. Well, the night was never complete without you making a fool of yourself. You hung your coat over the back of your chair and moved your purse as you sat. The room was still in a hush.

“Smooth,” Tiana raised her brows.

“Shut up,” You grumbled.

“Only you.” Nisha chided.

You peeked around at those who whispered around you and followed their own attention to the man you’d nearly tackled. He was with a group of several men and was shown to a booth near the back of the restaurant. You turned back and shook your head.

“I need a drink.” You declared.

“I’d say you do,” Tiana shook her head. “And a knock in the head.”

“You do know who’s foot you just stomped, right?” Ana asked.

“When do I ever know what is going on?” You said dryly. “So we doing just drinks or dinner?”

“She doesn’t even care,” Tiana gasped. “We should leave before she gets in anymore trouble.”

“Oh my god, what is the big deal?” You demanded.

“Take another look at that man,” Ana intoned.

You huffed and turned in your chair. You looked at the man as the server listened intently to him and you felt as if he was familiar but you couldn’t place him. He smiled at the waiter and then his eyes met yours. You blinked and spun back so quickly your chair wobbled. You shrugged as you steadied yourself.

“His name, which I’m sure will shake something loose, is Loki Laufeyson.” Tiana scoffed. “You might have heard that somewhere through that haze you call sentience.”

Your eyes rounded. A waitress appeared and asked for an order. You opted for gin on ice and rubbed your forehead.

“Shit.” You swore. “Well, I mean, it was just an accident. Not like I pulled a gun on him.”

“You scuffed his shoe,” Ana mused. “I’ve heard stories of him taking offence at less.”

“Don’t,” You warned. “I already have enough on my plate without worrying about…” You lowered your voice. “...the mob.”

“Oh, we’re teasing you,” Tiana insisted. “So how is Mrs. Forrest.”

“Nee Marris,” Ana added.

“Oh, you know, the same girl she was in uni,” You grinned. “Only this time she’s married her sugar daddy.”

“And she hired you to style her new house?” Nisha asked.

“Manse,” You corrected her. “As she prefers.”

“Definitely hasn’t changed,” Tiana smirked.

You all laughed as the waitress set your drink in front of you and you thanked her. You continued to gab over your menus and eventually ordered. You forgot about the bumpy beginning and were soon lost in the cheer. You had longed for a night out. A rare occasion when you reverted to the college girl procrastinating on her studying.

When your dinner came, so did another round of drinks. You paused and stopped the waitress before she could flit away.

“Sorry, but we didn’t order another round,” You wondered.

“Compliments of Mr. Laufeyson,” She said quietly. 

You froze and the other women looked at you curiously. You raised a brow and tried to subtly look over your shoulder. You didn’t turn all the way as you sensed another’s gaze on you.

“You can thank him but we can pay for them,” You insisted. “Really…”

The waitress blanched and your friends tittered.

“Oh, what’s the harm,” Nisha chimed. “Better than him sending something else.”

“Loosen up,” Tiana took a large gulp. “The free drink should help with that.

You sighed and Anna added to the plea with a grin. You rubbed your chin and relented. “You can thank Mr. Laufeyson.”

She exhaled in relief and agreed to do so. You grabbed your glass reluctantly and sneered at the girls before you forced your finest smile. You turned and found the man in question watching you. You raised your glass at him as a gratitude and quickly righted yourself in your chair.

“Oh,” Ana preened. “You think he’d pay for the whole meal? Give him a wink or something.”

“An,” You warned. “Really. That’s not the type of man you want to owe favours.”

“Really?” Tiana challenged. “Twenty minutes ago you barely recognized him.”

“Maybe not but I’d heard of him and his… supposed deeds.” You said. “You aren’t really encouraging this, are you?”

“He must like the whole clueless vibe you’ve got going for you,” Tiana trilled. “Rather endearing even if it does leave your toes a bit tender.”

“Hush,” You hissed. “Really. Let’s eat and then we shall relocate so that I do not entangle myself further with thugs.”

They laughed and you flaked away a piece of salmon with your fork. You shook your head. You had the sense of being watched and didn’t need to look to know why. It sent a frightful tickle along your spine. You were always quite skilled at walking, or rather, tripping head first into trouble.

🐍

That night was just another fleeting thrill in a series of missteps that never quite came to fruition. You didn’t need to worry about the mobster or your little stumble. Sometimes a kind gesture was just that and a coincidence was nothing more. No serendipity, no fate, just another anecdote about how your clumsiness had nearly gotten you in trouble.

You finished your dinner and found your way to a pub just down the way. The music was a little young for your tastes but the cocktails were on special and it wasn’t too rowdy. It was like Sex and the City but duller; and likely sadder. You shared stories of failed dates, workplaces peeves, and the latest drama witnessed on the tube. Provoking stuff.

Nisha crashed at yours. You woke on the couch, the birthday girl was offered the bed. You drank coffee with the curtains drawn but she didn’t wake up until noon. When she did, she finished the pot and dressed in her wrinkled clothing. You saw her off to the station and stopped by the shop for some orange juice and paracetamol.

You spent the rest of the day in the dark with Netflix in the background. You dreaded another day of Stacey’s obstinacy. What kind of person needed more than a dozen bedrooms in one house? Oh, and she did mention their summer house in the south? Well, if you couldn’t start appeasing her Cher Horowitz tastes, she might not need you for that.

The only thing you could do to prepare was set your alarm and sleep off your hangover. When you woke, the ice pick had dislodged from your skull and the fog outside helped mute the harshness of the sun. You dressed, had your coffee, a small breakfast, and readied to face off with Stacey.

The drive was an hour out of the city. Your small car puttered along but never failed to get you where you needed. You sang along to Petula Clark on the scratchy radio station as you yawned over the steering wheel. The old house rose before you; a hideous mishmash of an old Tudor cottage and a modern geometric renovation.

You drove up the winding drive and around the back. Classified as a member of the help, you weren’t permitted to park with the Bentley and the Rolls. You didn’t recognize the Aston Martin but you assumed it was another of Mr. Forrest’s associates. You climbed out, locked your car, and dropped your keys in your pocket.

There was a backdoor, formerly the entrance to the servants’ quarters, and you ducked through the arched doorway. The old corridor had recently been remodelled with a couple guestrooms, a modified laundry room, and a wine cellar. Paintings left by the former owners had been reframed and hung. Stacey couldn’t decide if she wanted to be old aristocracy or the new age elite.

You found Stacey in the kitchen. Her assistant, Deanna, was making her a green smoothie. She greeted you with a smile and flicked her finger across her tablet.

“Just in time,” She beckoned you over as Deanna set the glass down beside her. “I was thinking this lamp would be perfect for the master.”

You looked at the image. The clear glass body of the lamp was filled with large round sequins; a fishtank of tackiness with a feather shade. You had to hide your distaste.

“It could work,” You allowed, “But we would have to revert a few other choices.”

“Revert?” Her voice went deep and she sipped noisily through her straw.

“The curtains. You want sheen or lace. Not both.”

“Hmm,” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose. We could still have the curtains, they would be cute in the loo.”

“Cute,” You repeated as you resisted a laugh. “Well, as long as we keep to that theme in there.”

“I was talking to Paul,” She batted her lashes as she always did when she spoke of her husband; you suspected she held more affection for his last name and wallet than his person. “He did mentioned he wouldn’t mind a hint of snakeskin in his office. He doesn’t want anything too stuffy or old.”

“Oh yes, he is one for the… younger tastes,” You intoned. “We could probably work it in subtly. We don’t want it to be overbearing.”

“I suppose…” She rolled her eyes and took another long drink. “Well, I’ve tracked down those lamps in the city. I say we go and have a look around the boutique while we pick them up. Perhaps we can muster some inspiration, maybe even some imagination.”

You smiled and accepted the rebuke in stride. “At your leisure, Mrs. Forrest.”

“Stacey,” She corrected. “You know that makes me feel old.”

“Stacey,” You repeated and leaned on the counter.

“I’ll just finish this and then I’ll have Stuart drive us into the city.”

“I have a car,” You offered. 

“And so do I. It’s much nicer,” She insisted. “And we will discuss ideas on the w--” 

She turned completely in the tall chair and stood. “Paul,” She greeted her husband in a sing song. 

You watched her and angled yourself to keep your eye on her. Paul’s silver hair was thinning and still wore hints of the black dye he’d used to reclaim his youth upon his wedding day. His wrinkles deepened as he grinned and welcomed her against him. She wore stilettos and a skirt so tight it looked painful. 

Your amusement dwindled as another figure appeared behind him. You recognised the man immediately. It hadn’t been two days since your first and last encounter. As you remembered him, you were sure he remembered you. You were convinced of it as his green eyes sparkled and he smirked in your direction.

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d be off already,” Paul’s arm held Stacey around her waist. “I was just discussing our renovations with Mr. Laufeyson on his way out and was about to show him the east wing.”

“We were just on our way,” She announced. “We’ve some items to pick up for the master and soon enough we’ll move onto the rest of guest rooms.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Paul turned back to his visitor, his arm still around his young wife, “Pardon my negligence, this is Stacey’s designer.” He introduced you kindly. He might have been an easy dupe but he was nice enough. “They go back a ways. To university I believe.”

“Oh yes, I was in fashion and she was in interior, and so we ran into each other a couple times a year,” Stacey explained. “She always did have a good eye.”

“Ah,” Laufeyson neared and held out his hand cordially. You eyed it and the scene of you crashing into him replayed in your head. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You shook his hand awkwardly and prayed Stacey would not stay too long to boast.

“Actually,” He let go slowly, “If you’re not too tied up at the moment, I have a place not far from here that needs a breath of fresh air. You see, it was my father’s and it still bears much of his tastes. Not very akin to my own but I am terribly obtuse at these things.”

“Hmm, well,” You swallowed and looked to Stacey, “My roster is rather full at the moment. How many rooms did you say there were in this place, Mrs. Forrest?”

“Oh, but she is not that burdened, Mr. Laufeyson.” Stacey insisted. “We have sorted plans for most of the rooms. You might take her on the odd days, if you wish?”

Your nostrils flared. She acted as if she owned you. As if you were to be lent out like one of her designer dresses.

“I do have a waiting list--”

“We are old friends,” She interjected, “As a favour from me, Mr. Laufeyson, as a thank you for your wonderful wedding gift, you might have a consultation upon us. Right, Paul?”

“Oh, yes,” He seemed to have awoken from a trance at the mention of his name. “That old place your father kept, it could use a good dusting.”

You glared at Stacey. If she wasn’t paying twice your hourly rate, you might have walked out. You quickly wiped away your chagrin as the attention turned back to you.

“Well, I suppose if Mrs. Forrest can spare me…”

“Tomorrow,” Stacey affirmed. “Leave the address with Paul and she’ll meet with you in the morning. I can survive the day without her. The contractors will be back for the west wing.”

🐍

The next morning, you left early to make sure you arrived on time, all so that you could eventually leave on time. Mr. Laufeyson’s house was not far from the Forrests’. You pulled up to the tall gates and rolled down your window to push the buzzer. A voice rose from the crackly speaker and you called out your purpose several times before you were understood.

The wrought iron gates finally opened and you pulled through slowly. The drive was even longer than Stacey’s and the house grander. It was indeed old-fashioned. You pulled up before the large garage off the side of the house and stepped out onto the cobblestone. Your thick heel skidded over them and you nearly tripped. You locked your car and carefully walked along to the front steps.

You climbed them carefully but stumbled up the last. As you fell and scraped your hands on the stone porch, you heard the door open. You looked up and cringed as Mr. Laufeyson looked down at you. He stepped out onto the porch and you dragged yourself up by the column at the top of the railing.

“You okay?” He touched your elbow gently as you dusted your hands off on your jacket.

“Fine,” You assured him. “You know, gotta make an entrance.

“You’re early,” He said.

“Shall I wait?” You asked.

He chuckled and waved you ahead of him to the door. “Not at all. I’ve been eagerly awaiting you.”

You were silent as you neared the open door and entered the large foyer. He was close behind as he pulled the door closed and you tried not to flinch as he brushed close to you. You looked up at the grand chandelier and the towering portraits of ancestors.

“Where shall we start?” He asked.

“Well, I usually begin with a walk through and then we can go over my notes at the end. Discuss what you want to change, what you’d like to keep,” You took out your notebook as you spoke. “You’ll have a copy of it all. Should you choose to carry out the plans with another designer, you’ll still have them as reference.”

“Very well,” He nodded and you waited for him to lead you; up the stairs, through the door to your left or to your right. Just to start the whole awkward day. 

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You glanced over at him and he smirked.

“Loki,” He said. “We can go without the formalities for the day, I think.”

“Loki, where should we start?”

“I know you remember me,” He ignored your question. “And I certainly remember you.”

“I did appreciate the drink,” You said evenly. “And again, I do apologise for my carelessness.”

He considered you a moment. He didn’t move.

“And you know who I am?” He asked.

“Who doesn’t?” You answered as you looked around tensely. Heat began to crawl up your neck. 

“A thug, no?” He wondered. You blanched at the word you’d used only days before.

“It was a joke…”

“I do not deny it,” He assured you. “Or take offence. I’ve been called worse.”

You took a deep breath and tapped your pen on your notebook. Your turned to look at him directly.

“Did you bring me here to reprimand me?” You asked.

His smirk remained and he buttoned his jacket.

“I brought you here to rid this place of my father’s stench,” He said coolly. “And because this universe has a peculiar way of aligning the stars.”

“Left, right, or up,” You pointed to each door and then the broad stairway. “We should begin before the time gets ahead of us.”

“We should,” He agreed. “The left, dear.”

🐍

It took you all day to get through every room of the house. As you explored, you pieced together the story of the old place. A family property passed down through the generations. Nobles until the Great War, criminals in its aftermath and since. They hid their delinquency beneath their titles.

Loki seemed to have little love for his late father. His words were resentful. He explained that this was the lesser of two houses; the other was bequeathed to his brother. Expected but still a thorn.

He talked more than you expected, as if to fill the silence as you jotted down notes. Perhaps to loosen your own tongue. A man used to charming others. His words were as useful a weapon as a gun. You found it hard not to let them sway you. It was easy to see him as pleasant when his task was not so odious.

You caught yourself several times. He followed a bit too closely, leaned in a bit too much to look over your shoulders, held doors for you, brushed against you a little too conspicuously. You sensed him closing in the further you delved into the old family stead. Felt him looming around you as you tried to focus on the peeling wallpaper and golden candlesticks.

You were on the third floor. The walls were lined with geometric sconces of the art deco era. They could be restored easily and once more stylish even a century later. You reached the end of the hall and tucked your notebook under your arm as he pushed open the door there. He stepped back and waited for you to enter. You did, cautiously.

You walked the perimeter of the room, around the armoire and the bed, the standing lamp, the curled feet of the night tables. An extravagant fireplace with statues of lions on its mantle gaped back at you. You stopped before it as you scribbled on the paper. You turned and looked around once more.

“Are you set on the bed frame?” You asked. “An antique but clunky.”

“Hmmm,” He thought as he neared the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure.”

“I suppose if you removed the canopy and replaced the duvet it might…” You glanced at him and your eyes strayed behind him. The door was closed. You hadn’t heard it shut. You shook off the tremor and looked back to the tasseled canopy. “It might work but you could free up a lot of space, make it a little more open with something less… imposing.”

He rounded to your side of the bed slowly. He dragged his fingers along the bedding and stopped beside you. 

“I think I know what might make it look a little nicer,” He said.

“Oh?” You kept your eyes on your notebook as you scribbled down nonsense.

“Yes,” He lifted his hand from the bed and grabbed your notebook. “I think you might look rather striking in it.”

He dislodged the book from your hand and you tried to catch it before he flung it across the room. You stared up at him in shock and he ripped the pen from your hand in kind. You stepped back, startled.

“Loki,” You gasped. “What are--”

“You knew the kind of man I was back in that restaurant,” He blocked you as you tried to skirt past him. “You knew it at the Forrests’, and yet you came here.”

“I came to work.” You insisted. “I came because another said I would.”

You tried to push past him but he caught you around your waist. He swept you off your feet and swung you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress and sat up quickly.

“Loki,” You tried to shimmy off the bed. “I don’t--”

He was on top of you before you could get your feet over the edge. He shoved you back down and straddled you beneath him. You tried to wriggle out, tried to push him off, bat him away, but he caught your hands and pinned them to the bed.

“You knew that night who I was and what I can do.” He purred. “And I knew what I would do. Sooner or later.” He leaned over you until his nose almost touched yours. “I knew I would find you again.”

“Please,” You breathed shakily. “Please, you can stop and we can both forget--”

“I can’t forget,” He sneered. “I won’t.”

“Let me go,” You begged. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for any of it. I said sorry, I--”

“Oh, dear, this isn’t about that,” He rubbed his nose against yours cloyingly. “This is about the way that ass looks in those pants.”

You whined and kicked helplessly beneath him. “Help!” You yelled. “Someone, please!”

“I dismissed the help when you showed up. It’s an empty house, dear,” He rocked his pelvis against yours. “In the middle of the country.”

You grunted in frustration. He sat back and released your hands. He pushed your jacket open. He barely noticed as you slapped his arms and chest. He chuckled even. He tore your blouse and his hands cupped your bra. He squeezed and rocked his hips. He groaned as he groped you.

He slid his body down over yours until he was draped over you. He bent his head to your chest and kissed along your cleavage. You pulled his hair roughly as you tried to wrench him away. A hand slithered up and closed around your throat. He squeezed as his teeth pinched your flesh. You cried out from the pain.

Slowly, he raised his head. A black strand fell across his forehead. “My dear, it means nothing for me to hurt you.” His grip tightened. “So if you insist upon it, I will.”

You grasped at his hand as you tried to breathe. Your eyes watered and you nodded frantically. Your head was starting to throb. He let go and once more buried his head in your chest. His hand crawled back down as he held him over you, he flicked your fly open with one hand and pushed the zipper down slowly.

You were paralysed. Shock, fear, mortification washed over you. You were stupid enough to come hear. Weak enough to go along with Stacey’s demands. And desperate enough to be inflamed by his touch.

His fingers hooked beneath the waist of your pants and the elastic of your panties. He tore them down. He jolted your entire body and backed off of you as he forced them down your legs and over your boots. You tried to sit up but he was quick to shove you back down. He put his arm across your throat and held you there as he pushed his knees between your legs.

You shook and clung to his arm as he leaned on your windpipe.

“Loki…” You pleaded.

He tickled along your thigh and slipped two fingers between your lips. You gulped as he flicked your clit and your thighs tingled. You bit down and he did it again. He delved between your folds and your arousal was soon obvious. He returned to your bud and rubbed until your thighs were tensed against his.

“You can try to resist me, dear,” He snarled. “But know, I’ll always find a way to get to you.”

He shoved his fingers inside and you cried out. He pressed his thumb to your clit as he drew his fingers in and out. You slapped his shoulder and latched onto it as he kept on. You could feel your ascent and he urged you to your tipping point. You moaned and closed your eyes as your body quaked in betrayal. You came on his fingers. You could feel it, hear it.

You tried to catch his breath as he left you empty. He slipped his arm off your throat and leaned on his elbow as he unzipped his trousers. You squirmed and he grabbed a hank of your hair and pulled. You whimpered and he rolled his pants down to his thighs. He dragged his tip along your wet folds and you spread your hands over his chest.

You shook your head and tried to beg with your eyes. You pushed on his chest and he lined himself up with your entrance. He slammed his hips down and you yelped as he impaled you to his limit. Your fingers clawed at the lapels of his jacket as he began to rock. You went limp beneath him as your body buzzed. You were repulsed by how good it felt.

He sat up and grabbed your thighs. He held your legs against him as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Each thrust came sooner than last, harder than the last, deeper than the last. You reached out and balled the duvet in your fists as you tried to breathe away the mixture of agony and ecstasy. It didn’t work.

You came again. This time you shook even more and exclaimed louder than before. He let go of your left leg and reached to pulled your bra down beneath your tits. He kneaded as he tilted into you.

“Say my name,” He commanded. You shook your head and he pinched your nipple. “Say it!”

“Loki,” You whimpered.

“Again.” He growled.

“Loki,” You repeated.

“Keep going.” 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over. Each time he pounded into you, you recited the syllables. You came a third time and covered your face in shame. You were dizzy and confused. He sank into as deep as he could and the bed stilled. You felt him spill inside of you, his cock twitched as he groaned.

You went quiet and all strength drained from your body. He sighed and eased himself out of you. His cum leaked down onto the duvet between your legs as he crawled backward off the bed. You drew your legs together as he stood. He bent to grab your pants from the floor and tossed them over you.

He tucked his cock away and zipped up his fly. He pushed his shoulders back and let out another deep breath. He watched you smugly as you shakily sat up and grasped your pants. His eye brow crooked and he felt around in his jacket as it began to buzz. He pulled out his phone and read the screen.

“That’s the wife,” He said. “Shit. I’ll have to let her know I’m running late.”

You blinked as he turned and answered the phone. Your eyes were wide and your heart seemed to stop as he opened the door and disappeared into the hall. His wife. You hadn’t thought you could feel worse but like many things, you were wrong.

[fallout-snippets]

Fallout 4 companions (+Rhys, Haylen, Sturges, the faction leaders, and the nuka-gang leaders) react to Sole riding in on a horse, and ordering them not to go near it, and when/if the companions disregard this order (maybe they only met Sole just recently and haven’t learned that Sole only gives orders for the sake of other people’s safety), they end up getting kicked/bitten/crushed between the horse’s butt and a wall, and Sole informs them that this is exactly why they told them to stay back?

Cait reacts just as quickly as the horse and quickly jumps back before its hooves connect. She still falls backwards and yells. Gets huffy with Sole and thinks they should’ve told her it was an aggressive animal that attacks just by being approached.

Codsworth raises one of his arms and shouts “Why, you!” at the horse, quickly hurrying off to find a mirror of some kind so he can see if his chassi got dented. Apologizes to Sole for not listening to them but hates the horse.

Curie is completely dazed and in shock, staying on the ground for a moment to collect herself. Thinks the horse is magnificent and patiently asks Sole for instructions on how to properly conduct herself around it.

Danse is 100% embarrassed and hopes no one but Sole saw it and that Sole has the good heart never to mention it again. He very cordially apologizes and never approaches the horse again, even when Sole says it’s okay.

Deacon knows about horses and how scared they are for its size and it’s only really by pure accident and aligning of stars that the horse backs into him ass first. Jokes it off, asks if Sole trained it to do that. Makes sure never to end up behind it again.

Dogmeat tries to greet the new, large and funny-looking dog but quickly ducks away from its stomping hooves and hides. Only when Sole introduces them to each other slowly and properly do they begin to get along.

Hancock is humble and knows it’s his own fault for not listening. No hard feelings. Lets Sole know he’s sorry for ignoring their command and that he’ll be more careful from now on. Also makes sure the horse knows it wont happen again or there’ll be a big potluck where everyone’s invited.

MacCready pretends it didn’t happen. He gets up, dusts himself off and makes sure Sole knows he’ll listen to them from now on but if this never gets mentioned it again it’ll be too soon. Keeps a good distance from the horse.

Nick can only blame himself, he remembers horses from before and how easily spooked they are. Has some experience with them and ends up making friends with the animal, despite their rocky start. Doesn’t apologize for not listening but takes responsibility for his own actions.

Piper, like Danse, is extremely embarrassed. Like Cait, she also confronts Sole saying how they could’ve warned her the horse was dangerous. Eventually calms down and enjoys riding along with Sole across the wasteland, takes some care of it herself.

Preston praises Sole for having such control over an animal that large and aggressive. Apologizes for not listening and takes time to learn how to approach and care for the horse himself so it’s not a burden Sole has to carry alone.

Strong is about to kick the horse right back when Sole screams at him to stand down. Gets scolded for not listening but thinks it’s bullshit. Bides his time for his revenge on the four legged motherfucker who got away with attacking him.

X6-88 would never disregard a direct order but somehow he ends up behind it and the hind legs connect with his chest and force him flying backwards. Acts like it was just a tumble and not a straight kick in his rib cage. Has him out of breath and sore for days but his composure never falters. Sole did tell him not to approach and he is the only one to blame.

Ada, like Strong, wants revenge but stands down when Sole tells her to calm down. She still spends a lot of time fantasizing about ways to hurt the horse right back.

Longfellow loves animals and feels kinda self-conscious that the horse didn’t immediately take to him, even if horses are almost mythical and unknown in his time. Doesn’t know not to scare horses and he ends up getting thrown around a bit before he gets the hang of it. Knows Sole means business when they say something but eh, you gotta try yourself forward sometimes.

Gage already didn’t trust the thing and this only makes it worse. Tries from time to time to convince Sole to just dump the thing somewhere or for them to cook and eat it. Thinks that even if Sole warned him not to get close that the horse is an unnecessary addition to the party.

Rhys gets mad at the horse, probably out of embarrassment. Agitates it enough that someone has to calm down the horse and someone else has to calm down Rhys. Calls it “yet another wasteland abomination”.

Haylen is also furiously embarrassed (brotherhood peeps got a lot of pride to hurt) but is more apologetic. Asks for information on how to approach it to save face but plans on never going near it again.

Sturges tries to be as gentle as possible but if the horse reacts by biting him after he approaches slowly and with his hands outstretched towards it in good faith then it’s not a friend he plans to make. Doesn’t dislike the horse, it’s just an animal that reacted like an animal, but keeps a deliberate distance. Will still make sure it’s taken proper care of if he has to, no animal has to suffer just because it has instincts.

Father somehow manages to turn it into a lesson about how mankind and the surface world has dwindled into disrepair. Doesn’t take accountability for his own actions, thinks the horse is a lesser animal and shouldn’t be allowed to react that way.

Maxson knows how to be diplomatic and manages to smooth over the fact that he ignored Soles order. Studies the horse to see if it can be utilized for the Brotherhoods benefit but eventually scraps the idea. Definitely romanticizes the old war image of war generals riding into battle on a horse with a bayonet raised high but the cost and the cons outweigh the pros. Like X6-88 he never lets it show that his ribs are severely bruised. 

Desdemona just sighs and throws her hands in the air. Yeah, okay. That’s a horse. It doesn’t have to be her problem, she has enough as it is.

Mason definitely tries to mount the horse in some kind of alpha display but immediately gets tossed off a good few metres. Would try more times before getting violent to show the horse who’s boss but Sole probably sets him in his place, either by scolding him or threatening him. Considers the horse a personal challenge.

Nisha plans a slow death for the animal that reeks of shit and dust. Will absolutely kill the horse if it’s left unattended and pretend it was either not her or an accident. Doesn’t care that she was warned, things like that just don’t go by unretaliated.

Mags doesn’t want to go near it all since it’s such a filthy animal but when Sole tells her not to she gets curious. Considers it a lesson learned and to not take Soles word lightly.

[kerra-and-company]

heya :-) i was looking at your ocs and saw you mentioned pliarr as being a bit of a side character. intentionally or not, what's something he might do that would put him in the spotlight? :0

Hi hi!! :) <3 Thanks so much for asking about him!!

So, before I answer that question, I'ma ramble about him for a second:

The side-character thing comes from the fact that Pliarr is responsible for a lot of things that change the trajectory of people's lives, but not in a way that would put him in the spotlight. His attempt to save his sister as a kid is half the reason for the Primordus corruption that affects the rest of her life, though it absolutely saved her life. He's on a "scouting" mission in the Silverwastes when he runs into Nisha and Rel, and he brings them to the Priory. He's pretty much Ari's only friend in the first few years she's part of the Order of Whispers, and even if they weren't particularly close due to the general headspace Ari was in at that point, it did mean a lot to her.

Pliarr also very much has his own life going on, though. He grew up with his sister as the center of his world after they lost their parents. The only reason they didn't go under the care of Progeny Protective Services was thanks to a family friend, who was their guardian in name (and money/housing) but little more than that. Said family friend also is the reason Pliarr ended up in the Order of Whispers; she was a former member who'd retired to focus on her own research and also acted as something of a headhunter for them (entirely of her own volition, but it wasn't ever discouraged, either). He was (and is) a very talented mesmer who focused far more on improving his magic skills than he did on his Statics work, though he still graduated, and he didn't leave to officially join Whispers until Cio left for the Priory.

He specifically holds the Slayer title in the Order--he works as an assassin, more or less. He also holds a crap ton of secrets--some from the general public as a Whispers agent, and a couple from the Order itself. He's also, these days, kind of loosely attached to Chieko's search-and-rescue squad that's currently doing work in Gyala Delve, so...quite a few avenues to go down for things that would put him in the spotlight a little more--past actions coming back to haunt him in either a physical way or a mental one. He's not going to have the most fun down there, that's for sure.

(He's also going to fight against being in the spotlight, though. He really doesn't want that.)