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promethea-silk · 3 months

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Maze of Mirrors; House of Cards

Silence.

It was deafening among the sounds of old crackling parchments being moved about and achy bindings of forgotten tomes. Cordelia’s gaze held firm on the scribbles she read through with distinct detail, nearly aware of Ricard’s presence in the room as he did the same. She was refusing sleep, food, and drink, her mind was set on finding further answers and it would take a force of great convincing to get her to change her mind. There had barely been a word exchanged between the two once they left her room to venture deeper within the estate to settle in for a long day ahead as Cordelia’ headstrong nature took over.

A heavy sigh escaped her parted lips as heavy eyelids finally closed for a moment, papers tossed aside in the same motion while her head leaned back against the chair she sat in. Doing as she often did in a stressful situation or when deep in thought, her thumb rubbed against the ring on her right pointer finger and still she held silence.

Ricard glanced over his shoulder for a moment before flipping through a few more papers, setting aside the tome he’d been reviewing before turning around, his arms crossed over his chest. His vest had long been unbuttoned, the top button of his shirt undone, and he looked like he’d been rifling through papers for hours because he had been.

Something had to give.

“You’re not sleeping in that damn chair, Cordelia. If I have to toss you over my shoulder and drag you back to your room and tie you to the bed to make sure you sleep then that’s what’s going to happen. You’re not helpful to me the way you are at the moment and you damn well know it.”

He walked over, leaning over the chair, setting his hands on both of the armrests as his eyes narrowed at her dozing form. “Give me one good reason why I don’t pick you up right now.”

She propped an elbow on one of the arms of the chair, aware now of his hands there as she rested the side of her head against her hand. “You know that is hardly a threat, Ricard.” Cordelia quipped in a playful manner, though her usual quirk and sass was barely present in her tone. Eyes opened to look up at him with yet another sigh as her brows furrowed. “Plus, I’m not sleeping, I just needed to give my vision a break from trying to read all of this.” The hand that held her head now waved around them, gesturing at the mess they had been successful in making despite her attempts at being organized.

“Trying being the key word. What’s the last thing you actually retained?” He tilted his head, completely unconvinced by her claim of ‘not sleeping’. He knew she hadn’t slept the night before, and they’d been at this wild goose chase for hours with no rest.

“Did you find anything?” She opted to ignore his question and instead asked one of her own.

His tongue brushed across one of his canines quickly. “A handful of documents - missives between your late husband and that broker of his with the allergy that I absolutely didn’t take advantage of. But I’d still need to find a few missing pieces for the missives to be useful. I still think the pieces are in that pile of papers, but I also think that a rested extra set of eyes are more likely to help me find them than a sleep deprived set. You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends like this and expect to find anything, Cordelia.”

Steel gray hues usually holding a sort of vibrancy now held his gaze with a tempered and tired look. This hadn’t been the first attempt at getting her to take a rest, all other times before had obviously failed but she was at her breaking point and the cracks were showing. “Give me another hour and I will go lay down after if we haven’t found what we’re looking for.” Absently, her hand now fell to rest on his arm almost as if the touch were second nature. “Deal?”

His gaze dropped to the hand on his arm and he didn’t fight the heavy sigh that left him. After a moment he straightened up, running a hand over his face before turning back to the papers scattered across nearly every piece of furniture within the room. “Thirty minutes, and if I see you close your eyes or doze off, Fury help me, I will pick you up and carry you to your room myself, regardless of whether or not we’ve found something and I will make sure you stay there and rest. I understand this is important to you, but for fuck’s sake, Cordelia - it’s not worth your health.”

She simply scoffed in response as she watched him stand as her hand fell away with the movement, unrelated. “Thirty minutes.” Cordelia finally gave in, pushing to stand as well and moving toward a pile of books on a nearby table. Scanning them for a silent moment, she eventually settled on one, reaching for it and lifting it into her grasp as the binding was nothing more than show. Not so much a bound book as it was a folder, a few pages shook loose and fluttered to the floor. Tilting her head, Cordelia narrowed her eyes on the writing before kneeling down and plucking it within her fingers. Her mother’s signature.

“Ricard.” She said his name blankly as she now began looking through the other pages. Letters between her mother and Adrian, but even more important letters between her mother and Ambrose. Unsurprising that he sought her out instead of her ‘father’ to use as an exploit. She hadn’t been weak of mind by any means but Elsbeth certainly had a softer heart and a strong desire to protect her family name above all else. Eventually she came to documents signed by all three parties; her parents and Ambrose.

“Hm?” Book in hand, Ricard turned towards the source of the voice, still flipping through various financial records and missives and grumbling under his breath about an organizational ‘system’ for a moment before snapping the book shut and setting it down with an irritated huff.

“Find something worth reading?” He moved over, glancing over her shoulder and eyes scanning the pages in her hand with a quirked eyebrow. “A reminder of why, if you’re going to have a scandalous affair of any kind, you don’t keep evidence of it in writing…but what did your parents have to say, hm?”

She held the papers up a bit more so that he could see them more clearly, eventually offering for him to take them if he wished. “Seems my assumptions were pretty close. Ambrose went after my mother, he figured out the weakness and exploited that. I… can’t tell the entire story from this but from what I gather he sought her out first, she likely convinced Archer to sign everything over.”

He scoffed, taking the offered papers and reading through them with a scowl. “So why not turn the bastard in for attempted blackmail? Why jump through all these hoops - it feels like there’s a piece missing. He goes after your mother, your mother wants to protect…who? Adrian Cress? You? Both? Herself? What’s the payoff here?”

A low hum rumbled through his chest as he turned on his heel, pacing a few steps as he read through the letters.

A heavy sigh left her as she shook her head. “I don’t know. He consumed my family’s entire livelihood with our marriage contract. My mother likely did everything she thought was right to keep this secret quiet.” As he took to pacing, Cordelia found herself yet again back in the chair she had rested in prior, brows furrowed in thought. “Sweeping this under the rug is the only positive in their direction in this. They lost everything in the end despite them trying to procure an arrangement that would still benefit them as our businesses were still rightfully in my name to some degree.” With a pause, she flicked her gaze up and over to him as her features hardened just slightly. “It was partially why I sought to be rid of Ambrose, to regain control of it all and take what was left as mine as well.”

“Right - I understand that, but we’ve still got a situation where this man is clearly doing some shady shit to get your family into this marriage contract and they go along with it. Why?” He waved the letters, tapping his chin with his free hand. “What is it about the relationship your mother had with Adrian Cress…or what is it about you that made it so important that people don’t know that you’re a Cress…important enough that it’d be okay to give away an entire business without much of a fight…”

Ricard turned, pointing towards Cordelia. “You have a child, hypothetically, for the sake of this conversation - and that child is born out of wedlock with the love of your life whoever that happens to be - and you can’t acknowledge that man, but you’d do anything to protect him…what are you protecting him from?”

“I don’t know, Ricard. Everything I know is right there.” She gestured to him with frustration as the slew of emotions and lack of sleep riddled her typically rather sharp mind. “I still don’t even know what I’m going to do with all this. But I don’t think my mother was trying to protect Adrian, I think it was more about keeping our family safe… unless Ambrose threatened Adrian too and then it turned into threats from the Cress side as well…”

“You…lady Gray…are too tired for this. That’s what this is. We’re talking in circles.” He took the letters and carefully tucked them into his vest before moving over to the chair she was seated in and picking her up with little warning. “And your time limit is up. You need sleep, food, maybe a good bath, and then to come at this with a clear head. You’re not going to see shit with fog covered eyes.”

Cordelia retaliated initially with his actions, the movement of being plucked from her seat and into his arms catching her unexpectedly, despite his warning from earlier. With a heavy, defeated sigh, she gave in and settled within his hold with a curse beneath her breath as she allowed her head to lower and nestle to his shoulder as she began to give in to the tiredness she was fighting.

He turned towards the door, cradling her against his chest as he walked. “What, if we’re throwing out ideas, if it had nothing to do with protecting the adults and had everything to do with protecting you from something? Hm?”

Lifting her head to look up at him, her brow rose with question. “Do you think Adrian sought to bring harm to me? After going through the effort and acceptance of allowing me to live in the first place?”

“Adrian? No - I think that letter to your mother…the first one, indicates that he wouldn’t do anything. But that’s not to say there weren’t other adults around that, if they found out about you wouldn’t be more inclined to see you gone.” He shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t leaning against as he moved through the halls - her bedroom coming into view. “All idle speculation at the moment. We need a timeline, we need more information, we need to know the pieces on the board, and you need rest. The papers aren’t going to up and walk away if you get a couple of hours of sleep. I’ll keep looking.”

Her gaze fell from his as he spoke, mind pondering his assumptions and speculations. He had a point, but to get to the truth would be more difficult than she originally expected. .In regards to needing rest, she knew he was right but would die before outwardly admitting. As they neared her room, she adjusted and pushed from him so that she could try to weasel out to be set down. “If I am being forced to take a break then you should take one as well.” Cordelia scolded, the lack of interest in arguing over the matter extremely evident in her tone. “There’s no need for you to continue wasting your time here.”

Her squirming was met with a quirked eyebrow, but he set her down nonetheless, tilting his head as he pulled the letters from his vest and moved to set them on her bedside table for her. “Wasting my time, hm? Are you kicking me out, Lady Gray?”

She adjusted the fabrics of her dress, no, nightgown. She was still in her nightgown. The realization caused her to shake her head, judging herself for the lack of preparation in her appearance. Cordelia was, if anything, a bit of a traditional snob, preferring to keep proper grooming and dress habits up at all times and here she was still in her sleepwear from the night before.

He turned back towards her, walking over slowly, “Let’s keep in mind - I wasn’t the one up all night pouring over papers. And it’s not a waste of time if it’s helpful to you.” If he noted her scolding tone, he seemed to ignore it entirely, as he reached out, fingers brushing under her chin lightly.

The touch brought a tease of a smirk to her lips as she looked up to him. “No, not kicking you out… but be careful, Mister Blythe, one might think you may actually care.” She taunted, as her head tilted just slightly. “You are welcome to stay, if that is what you wish.”

Ricard scoffed, leaning down a bit closer. “I can care from time to time. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.” He let his hand fall away, taking a moment to adjust his vest. “But we wouldn’t want people to start thinking it’s a common occurrence.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking something over. “I’ll wait around - make sure you actually fall asleep and don’t just wait for me to leave the room before popping up and getting right back to work. While you are actually sleeping I should be able to start piecing together a timeline of some sort - I hope.”

Cordelia hummed softly as she turned from him to cross the room to a large wardrobe, opening it and reaching in to retrieve a similar nightdress to the one she was currently wearing but clean. “Your secret is safe with me.” She mused out loud, returning her attention to him. Her eyes fell on him, slightly narrowed as the light fabric dress draped over her arms. “I don’t need a watcher, Ricard.” The tone was warning but also somehow it offered something else.

“Then what do you need, Cordelia?” He tilted his head with a small smirk, arms crossing loosely over his chest as he watched her move about the room.

The bed had been made, her staff having come in at some point during the day to see that the mess she had left about was tended to. She took the papers he put on the nightstand and tucked them away into the drawer as a show of good faith that she was actually planning on resting before pulling the covers back in preparation to slip in once she was settled. “Now, if you will excuse me,” her arm lifted slightly, gesturing to the new dress to be swapped out.

He seemed to pause, measuring something in his head for a long moment before the smirk shifted to a wide grin and he motioned towards the nightdress. “Oh, don’t mind me. Go right ahead. I can help if you like.” Now he was just being difficult…or playful, depending on how one looked at it. They’d spent hours digging through papers and being serious, perhaps some light-hearted banter would allow for a slightly different perspective - or perhaps he was simply being a shit.

Catching his tone and the shift in atmosphere, she decided to call him on his bluff with a chuckle, tossing the gown from her arm to the bed all while holding his gaze. “Hm, I fear that I may not quite get the rest you so adamantly suggest I need if I take you up on that offer,” she began though her hands gestured out to her sides with a grin. “Though, by all means…”

Ricard’s gaze lazily drifted over her form as he closed the distance between them. “Perhaps not immediately, but you’d be thoroughly relaxed by the end of it. And the rest you’d get would be restful.” He reached out, a hand sliding down her side and finding her waist before drawing her to him. “So let me ask you again…what is it that you need, Cordelia?”

It seemed no matter how many times they came to this, they played the game. The back and forth was endearing, in a sense, it continued to call back to their humble beginnings. Not that they had come so incredibly far from it, but it was a growth of sorts even still. Allowing him to pull her closer, she leaned into Ricard further as she lifted her gaze to stay on his. “You threatened to take me to bed…” her voice had dropped to a lower tone, the seductive melody seeping out despite her tiredness. She needed a distraction, even for a moment, and he was here for the taking. Lifting her chin just a slight bit more so that her breathy words could be felt against his skin. “…so take me to bed, Ricard, and help me forget all of this for a little while.”

The need stated without being stated, and he wouldn’t let the desire go unfulfilled. “As you wish.” There was a tenderness in his gaze - brief though it was - as he leaned down to lift her up once more, carrying her to the bed and gently depositing her in the middle of it before moving over her, brushing her hair away from her face.

“By the time we’re done the only name you’ll be thinking about will be mine.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers and intent on doing just that.

Thoughts of Cress, and Gray, of Adrian, Ambrose, Elsbeth, and all others…they could wait until the morning.

[Collab writing : @ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

[@sanguinecourt-ffxiv @house-cress]

#Pulling Strings and Spellthread #House Gray #House Cress #The Weaver #the perceptive smartass #what could possibly go wrong

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ramblinganthropologist · 2 years

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Wait... the Aeda protags have WINGS?

Oh God, Kal, Kal is not making 80 at this rate his agility is 5. The boy is not good at wing things.

#His perception is 10 #and his persuasion is 8 #so he will persuade you to ignore the fact he crashed #Wayfarer #the adventures of Kal Varyn the smartass

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southfarthing · 1 year

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sometimes i get sad thinking about the changes they made to faramir in the films and the way that seems to have shaped the general fandom perception of his character, but then i remember the sheer power he has in the book and think....maybe it's for the best.

everyone in gondor loves him so much that randos form a crowd and chant his name when he arrives at the city... soldiers weep whilst on duty standing guard when they think he's dying....... he's literally the jewel – the hope – of minas tirith and everyone is obsessed with him... he's THE knight in shining armour... and on top of that he has an unshakable moral code and is so so gentle and tender and loves his sad little histories but he's also a respected leader and war commander and scout and he's fiercely brave and "can tame both man and beast" and he's a tactical smartass and he's a little bitch and he has beautiful long black hair that blows in the wind and he tells his dad that boromir's death is his fault and he kisses eowyn on the walls of minas tirith in the bright sunlight and doesn't give a shit that literally everyone can see them..........like what do you do with that. how do you depict that raw power. the unhinged appeal. the secksiness of character ???

#uh oh it's faramir o'clock 😩#faramir #lotr #mp #god he............ he's so unreal i want him aesthetically and ideologically and romantically and #lord of the rings

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withacapitalp · 1 year

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(Okay I saw a post about a premise similar to this but I cannot find it for the life of me. Anyway I loved it so much that I had to write a version of it myself. A post s2 AU!) Now with Part Two

Steve was never exactly the most perceptive person in the world.

He missed all of the signals that Nancy had given him, every sign that had pointed to their failing relationship. He hadn’t seen the moments that proved she was right about everything going on in their town either. Steve overlooked important details in his college applications, and took shots in basketball that almost always missed. He even sometimes walked right into walls these days, because his spacial awareness had kinda been shot since Billy smashed a plate over his head fifteen days ago.

A lot of that could be forgiven, but, this…

Well this was a little bit obtuse, even for him.

“You know you’re sitting at our table, right, King Steve?”

Steve looked up from his Tuna Surprise, resisting the urge to flinch at both the blinding light from the windows in the cafeteria and the nickname he hated so much. Eddie Munson stared back, carrying a lunch tray in one hand and his signature metal lunch box in the other.

“Your humble court is awaiting you on the haves side of this blessed cookery. This side is where the dweebs and the nerds parlay. A single place we get a reprieve from the endless bombardment of the average” Munson continued, flinging his arms to and fro, gesturing to the group of teens behind him who were staring at Steve like he was dirt under the bottom of their shoes.

He hadn’t understood the majority of what Eddie had just said to him, but those looks were enough to give Steve the gist. He was not welcome here.

“Sorry,” He muttered, grabbing his tray and sliding it to the other end of the table. He took a deep breath the second he was alone again, letting the tension melt away from his body as he collapsed back in his seat.

Even though he was no longer welcome to sit at his old table, Steve probably could have gone and eaten in the library with Nancy and Jonathan. They had awkwardly invited him to join them a few times since everything had gone down, but he always said no.

It was better this way. Better to be alone. Better to not have to watch the two of them try and hide how much happier they were now that they could be together. They deserved that happiness, Nancy deserved that happiness, and Steve refused to be the one to make her try and stifle any of that.

He had hurt her enough already.

“What happened to your face?”

Once again Eddie dragged Steve out of his thoughts. He was standing over Steve’s head, nearly hovering on top of him, watching Steve like he was trying to work him out. Like Steve was a particularly complex puzzle that he could solve just with his eyes.

Nancy had always looked at him that way. Steve had hated it when it was her, and he hated it even more coming from Munson now.

“Got into a fight,” Steve grunted, stabbing at his shitty cafeteria food and hoping that his abrasiveness would be enough to get Munson to leave him alone.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he could say now that they had all signed another round of NDAs, but he was pretty sure even talking about this was toeing the line. It was safer all around to get Eddie to go away as quickly as possible.

It wouldn’t be all that hard. Usually all it took were a few well placed bitchy comments to get people to see the picture and give up on him. The only group of people who hadn’t been perturbed by Steve’s spikiness was the kids. They had shown up at his house pretty much daily since the gate had closed, and had even taken to begging on him for rides to and from school.

Dustin in particular seemed determined to stay latched onto him like a barnacle, but Steve found that he didn’t really mind their clinginess.

It was nice to be needed, even if it was only a group of pre-teen smartasses.

“With who?” Eddie asked, leaning his hip on the table next to Steve and crossing his arms over his chest, “Cause Billy Hargrove is telling everyone he can that he beat your ass for messing with his sister,”

“I would never do something like that,” Steve shot back instantly, feeling the fading bruises on his face twinge as his jaw clenched in fury. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth, unable to stop them, “Billy’s a racist jackass who tried to put his hands on one of my fucking kids,”

Shit.

“There is…so many confusing parts of that sentence,” Eddie stated, blinking in shock.

“Whatever,” Steve murmured, biting his cheek to stop himself from saying anything more and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. They weren’t exactly his kids, per say, but Steve was invested in keeping them safe now. The idea of doing anything to hurt any of them was painful, and the thought of Billy spreading that kind of rumor made bile rise up in his throat.

Fuck Billy. Fuck this. Fuck his life honestly.

“Look, Munson, I’m really not in the mood right now,” Steve sighed, hating how weary he sounded. It would have been better to fight his way out of this. Steve was crappy at fighting though, and there wasn’t much spirit left in him. Not after two weeks of perpetual stress and tension.

“Harrington-”

“I moved down, I’m not in your way, isn’t that good enough?” Steve bit out, halfway to just grabbing his tray and throwing it in the trash. He was barely eating anyway, might as well go to the gym to shoot some hoops instead of sitting here being interrogated by drug dealing extraordinaire, Eddie goddamn Munson.

Couldn’t he just let Steve eat in peace? Everything else was already so goddamn difficult these days. Could Steve at least manage to eat a mediocre meal without the entire world demanding something from him?

By the grace of whatever god was potentially out there, Eddie took the hint, pushing off of his resting place and stalking back over to his group of weirdos on the other side. Steve let his eyes slip shut and dragged in a heavy breath, utterly exhausted.

He was contemplating skipping the rest of the day and going home to sleep when a blue plastic tray identical to the one in front of him bumped his right hand

“What are you doing?” Steve wondered aloud, raising his eyebrows and fixing Eddie with a confused look as he sat down right next to Steve and began to dig into his meal.

“Eating lunch alone sucks?” Eddie offered, shoveling Tuna Surprise into his mouth and shuddering, pushing the rest of the disgusting concoction to the far side of his tray, “Plus I’m hoping that if I get in your good graces you’ll give me your pudding cup,”

Steve stared at him for a few more moments, waiting for whatever prank was about to be pulled. But Eddie didn’t budge, continuing to eat around his main dish with strange efficiency and ignoring Steve’s gaze.

“Go nuts,” He finally said, offering the plastic container over to Eddie who grabbed it and gave Steve a big smile

“Mazel Tov, Eddie said, hoisting the pudding aloft and tearing into it, “So, you have children?”

“I- I babysit,” Steve stammered out, completely perplexed by the strange set of circumstances that was playing out in front of him. Eddie paused with his spoon midair in front of him.

“You babysit,” He repeated, turning his head towards Steve. The younger teen nodded and Eddie hummed. He put his pudding down and licked his spoon clean. When he was done, he hefted it aloft, bringing it down on the back of his right hand with a smack that echoed all around the cafeteria.

“Ouch!” Eddie yelped, flapping his hand around in the air to try and get rid of the sting. Steve looked frantically to and fro as the rest of the room stared at them, whispering behind their hands.

“Why would you-”

“Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” Eddie explained, interrupting Steve’s furious whisper with a breathless little laugh, “Because I just heard the words ‘I babysit’ come out of King Steve’s mouth,”

“Would you cut it out with the King stuff?” Steve snapped, beginning to lose his appetite, “It’s been a while since I was King of anything, and it was a stupid fucking idea to begin with,”

There was a beat of awkward silence as Eddie gave him another one of those soul searching looks.

“What are you doing Thursday afternoon?” He finally asked when he found whatever he was looking to find. Steve startled, dropping his fork.

What kind of question was that?

Was Munson asking him on some sort of date?!

“I’m…benched from basketball ‘cause of my concussion. So nothing, I guess,” Steve said cautiously, carefully picking his words and trying to avoid the spike of hurt that shot along his chest as he said them.

It wasn’t much, but basketball was one of the only things Steve really thought he was genuinely good at. Not having it was kind of pure torture.

Almost as bad as not having Nancy in his life anymore.

“In that case, come to Hellfire,” Eddie offered, glancing at the clock on the wall and grabbing both of their trays. Steve scrambled to grab his backpack, hefting it onto one shoulder and jogging to keep up with Eddie.

“What?”

“Hellfire?” Eddie repeated, dumping their trash into the bin and stacking the trays next to it, “It’s the club I run,”

“What is it?” Steve asked, curious but unwilling to commit just yet. There was still a part of him that was kind of convinced all of this was some elaborate ruse to fuck with him.

But before Eddie could say anything the bell chimed all around them. The rest of the student population moved as one, and the sound in the lunchroom immediately went from dull roar to cacophonous mess. Steve’s left ear started to ring again, and he winced, shying away from the sudden noise.

“You’ll have to come and see,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows, completely ignorant to Steve’s pain. He turned on his heel, raising a hand in a wave behind him as he loped towards the rest of his friend group.

“Thursday after school! In the drama room, don’t be late!”

#Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #Steddie au #Steve joins hellfire au #post s2 #st #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #Nancy wheeler #post stancy breakup #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

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lacrymarial · 2 years

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i think narumitsu in particular has ruined shipping for me. if it’s not childhood friends to rivals to strangers to tentative acquaintances to dear, indispensable friends to lovers that constantly fight at every juncture but purely because they care, as well as polar opposites that slowly begin to take on personality traits of the other (for better or for worse) with this mutual borderline delusional perception that they somehow have an amorphous “debt” to pay because they literally owe their lives to each other, in addition to being a dumb smartass/smart dumbass couple, then i don’t want it

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #narumitsu #happy narumitsu week everyone #i rest my case

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hatchetno1 · 3 months

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sage forest mental institution.

chapter 6. in which you gain information from a certain apparition. word count: 1.7k note: WARNING. mentions of sa/rape (does not happen to you). no descriptions, but it is talked about. cw: jeff is a BITCH, and as mentioned above, mentions of rape.

He said he loves you, but you have no idea how credible that statement is.

For one, he’s mentally ill as fuck, and it could very well be true. You’re the first normal person he’s come into contact with for ages—two years, he’d said, seventeen when he was taken in, and nineteen now. But the common sense that kept you alive in society tells you it’s not possible because it’s barely even been a day since you met him.

But then again, you’re meant to be his therapist. And as his therapist, you know it’s not so implausible that he genuinely feels affection, romantic at that, towards you. In fact, it’s not so uncommon that people fall in love with their therapists, for the human mind is wired to form deeply emotional relationships. Toby’s brain could very well be overcompensating for the years in which he hadn’t had a proper, healthy conversation with another human being, one that’s not a cold-blooded murderer. That effect would only be amplified by his personality disorder, affecting his ability to form normal human relationships.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” chuckles a voice from behind you.

You do what any sensible person does, which is to scream and jump and stare at the source in horror.

The Link cosplayer from the previous day of chaos is sticking his head out of a CCTV camera you hadn’t even noticed before.

“Where did that camera even come from?” You ask yourself.

He whistles. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day with that amazing lack of perception. Also, rude much? You didn’t even greet me.”

“You didn’t either,” you blurt out.

“Good point. But know that if you keep that tone up I might just kill you.” He grins at you maliciously, and you feel yourself breaking out into a cold sweat.

“I’m sorry—”

“Oh my god, how dumb are you?” He rolls his eyes.

“…Huh?”

He sighs, and you wonder if he’s starting to get irritated at you. You don’t like people being irritated at you. You most certainly do not enjoy ghosts (?) being upset at you.

“You are off-limits in this household,” he explains. “The Operator will have our heads otherwise.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. “But…could you not listen in next time? I’m not sure how they’ll react to their…well, their deepest secrets being listened in on.”

He makes a tsk noise. “How else are you going to get information on them to treat them better, lest Slendy have your head?” There it is again, that nickname. But for now, you concede. “It’s true. I’m definitely not qualified, but I’m pretty sure even therapists get their information from multiple sources if they can,” you comment. The Link cosplayer—BEN, as EJ had told you yesterday—nods, and pulls himself out of the camera, hands pushing himself out of what you assume to be cyberspace, and floats down to the beanbag below the camera. Honestly, you’re still wondering how you hadn’t noticed that camera, and you internally berate yourself for it as you mirror him, slumping on your own beanbag.

“So,” he begins, bloody eyes gazing straight into your soul, “You must be wondering what the fuck just happened.” You note his use of profanity and nod slowly.

BEN sinks back into the beanbag—he can interact with physical objects, apparently—and rests his head on his palms placed behind his head like a makeshift pillow. “For starters, Toby is fucked,” he explains, and before you can give him a smartass no shit Sherlock answer, he continues. “I know you can’t see what’s on Slender’s table. He tends to fuck with your head like that. He only lets you see what he wants you to see. Nothing more. But anyways, basically he has a laptop or something on his desk. And obviously, you know I can manipulate electronics,” he wiggles his fingers, “And so that’s how I discovered there was something on his table, ‘cause even I can’t see it. But I know what’s on it.” He grins, and you start to doubt his intentions.

“Wait, why are you helping me?” You start carefully, but he waves your question away. “Later.” You doubt him even harder.

“But yeah, anyways, he has a bunch of info on his proxies on there. It’s pretty hard even for me to read that shit on there because he messes with your perception and shit, so I’m not even sure if that info’s real or not, and if he knows I’m inside or not and is hence giving me weird info or whatever.” He pauses. “You prefer your info verbally or written down?”

You think for a bit. “Verbally,” you choose carefully. Unlikely to leak in case shit hits the fan somehow, and easier to clarify.

“Good choice,” he remarks with another grin, retracting his legs into a crossed position, elbow on his knee and resting his cheek on it. “Hm, where do I start…Tobester it is, I guess.”

He clears his throat. “To summarize the mindfuck of data on Slendy’s hellish computer, Toby was wiped of his memories because he decided the sheer amount of trauma would fuck with his ability to do his job. But he notes that the effects of the trauma remain, though not in full, what with the no memories shit and all. If you wanna treat him…well, I dunno, you could either gaslight him into forgetting his trauma responses,” he giggles here, “or you gotta dig those painful memories out and get him to…mm, what’s that called again? Processing? Yeah, you gotta get him to process that shit.”

“Hm,” you grunt, not knowing how else to respond. “Anything else?”

BEN chuckles. “Hey now, princess. Can’t leak all my precious info immediately, can I?” Then he continues, “Invading that stupid fucking computer is hard fucking work. I’m never doing that shit again.” His eyes slowly slide back to yours, and his grin widens maliciously. “Not for free, that is.”

And in a flash, he pounces on you, and you yelp, squirming to escape his ice-cold touch, but he’s surprisingly strong for being a ghost. He traces your jaw, laughing at your state. “Oh, my precious innocent human,” he drawls. “What did you expect?”

It’s true. What did you expect?

“You,” he pokes your nose, causing you to retract even further, “Are going to treat Jeff and EJ as well.”

Huh?

He clicks his tongue and settles back on his own beanbag, sighing. “I’m a poltergeist, not a rapist. That’s Jeff’s job.”

Your jaw extends outwards in horror.

“Yeah. I don’t really care though,” he shrugs. “He even tells me about it. It’s kinda gross.”

Your head spins. You’re going to throw up. But you stay firmly rooted in your place. You’re a therapist for serial killers now, you can’t be fazed by a brief mention.

BEN doesn’t seem to notice your distress, or if he does, he doesn’t show it. “I don’t give a shit about what he does to randos, but I do give a shit about how he feels. I live with the fucker and I’d hate for how he feels to affect me.” You start thinking that BEN hides his own emotions from himself too, but he seems a bit too self-aware for that. Though, you can’t eliminate that possibility.

“But anyways, he seems rather…sad? When he talks about it. Dunno if that’s the right word, but his eyes are usually all madman-like, but when he talks about raping his victims, that madness dies a bit. Maybe he does it for validation or something. And when he talks about it, it sounds kinda forced. I want you to find out what’s going on with that.”

“I mean…I’ll do it, I guess, but why do you want to know…?” You don’t buy that he doesn’t care about Jeff, so you probe a little.

“I’m interested. Also, I wanna tease him about it if he has a breakthrough regarding it or something.” He shrugs. “Oh, and about EJ, I just want him to motherfucking eat in peace without whining to me or literally anyone that he can’t eat kidneys and cult shit and whatever.” At your look of confusion, he explains. “I don’t think he’s the type to hide this from you if he does agree to therapy,” he gags mockingly at the word, “but I might as well give you context anyway. He’s a demon, but he used to be human till some weird cult turned him into one. Then he went batshit and ate them all, and now he keeps whining about his diet, and it’s fucking annoying. Always wanted him to stop feeling so guilty.”

Yeah, he definitely cares about his friends, though he might not even call them friends out loud. And so out of respect for perhaps the only sane while friendly one in this cursed house, you say, “Yeah, I’ll try.”

He grins at you again. “Good. Do that, and I’ll give you more info as you go.”

Then you start to regret it a little because Jeff seems absolutely fucking whack.

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rach-amber · 1 month

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Me again!

Do you think that Rachel and Max had a spiritual connection with one another? They’re completely different as far as their personalities and outer appearances. Yet, they both have one thing in common:

Their love for Chloe.

Plus, the fact that Rachel appeared as Max’s spirit animal (the doe) somewhat shows me that they were connected to some degree. What do you think?

You always ask great questions! I must admit I'm not as well versed on Max's side of the story as Rachel's, so there definitely are people who can give a more comprehensive answer than me. But imma just try and write what comes to mind :)

For 2 people that have never met, their spiritual connection, chemistry, "fate entanglement" as I liked to call what they have are the strongest across the fandoms I've seen. When Max returned, we as players felt Rachel's presence all over Arcadia bay. In the original there was even a line to the effect of "I feel like everything in this town is connected to Rachel Amber somehow". Max was able to "see" Rachel through different people in Arcadia bay. Everyone had something to say about her, even a random trucker. It can be said that she really had an effect on the people of that town, if we put the fire aside. This town being Max's hometown adds another layer to it, it is so much different due to Rachel's existence.

left pic from a fan made Rachel DLC | Yes, their love for Chloe is the key link that transcends through time & space, allowing them to see each other in some way.

Like the town, Max is also very different from her past self. While she didn't have such a strong presence back when she was growing up in Arcadia, Max eventually became the decider of the town's (including most of its people) fate. Whether Rachel is the root cause to Max's powers is very much a mystery and up to interpretation, just like many things in life is strange.

If we acknowledge that Rachel is the cause of the fire, there could be another parallel: this girl who tried to leave this town nearly destroyed the town; meanwhile another girl who came back actually have the power to do that, or stop it from getting destroyed. Even though both never meant to. (Not expanding on Rachel being the storm here cuz it's really not definitive & personally I think if Rachel's got powers she'd just use them on those who did her wrong, not the entire town)

Personality-wise, especially on the outside, they are almost opposites. But somehow I get the feeling that they'd really understand each other, because on the inside, they may not be that different. I've seen a Tumblr post saying Rachel using her people skills to get on people's good side is mirrored by Max using her rewind powers to fix her responses. (When you've got such an ability, of course you use them! Which is different from being manipulative, might I add.)

Rachel with her sensitive, vulnerable side, which she guarded & masked with so much effort and painted with her smiles & godly social skills, is definitely able to understand & empathise with Max and not judge her. And Max being pretty perceptive herself, having quite an astute understanding of Rachel just from photos she found, is definitely able to see more than Rachel lets on. Both are powerful smartasses and fiercely protective of Chloe. (& both bi x)

Max sees, Rachel shows. The photographer & the muse. Built for an "electric combo", as Love is Strange says, even though they may not hit it off well at the start due to awkwardness or slight jealousy from both sides, eventually they're gonna realise that the other is beneficial for them. Max is able to ground Rachel and give her heartfelt & real advice that she needed; Rachel's able to help build Max's confidence, socialise better (back off V, she's with me), share insights about art & photography.

I'd even say Max & Rachel may complement each other more than Max and Chloe, OR Chloe and Rachel. (If there are more content on these 2, AmberPrice in my heart might be challenged. Yeah. It's scary.)

Some say they share the same spirit animal, which is really possible (bts putting that "doe see doe" photo on Rachel's bed frame), or it could mean that as Max's spirit animal, Max sees all spirits in a doe form. Another possibility is that Rachel have the doe as her spirit animal, and everyone who can see her spirit sees the doe. Nonetheless it's incredible that Max seems to be the only person to be able to see the doe, or that Rachel chose to present herslef to only Max. Definitely a connection there. 🦌

Looking at their personalities through enneagram (Rach 4, Max likely 9) we see that they can be similar but in different ways (9 & 4 can be mistyped):

"The difference is that Nines are detached both from the external world and from their emotions (not keeping in touch w Chloe in Seattle & delay on reaching out to her?), whereas Fours withdraw from whatever has caused them pain (delaying telling Chloe about her messy relationships cuz it causes her pain? + her immediate reaction to finding James making out with another woman). Nines see the world through rose-colored glasses, and their view of it is comforting, whereas Fours see the world from a garret window as outsiders and are not comforted: everyone else seems to be living a happier, more normal life."

Thanks for the question! I've no idea I was gonna write this long. You guys can see a few of my blogs or reblogs that I've mentioned these 2 via the tag "Rachel and Max" or "Amberfield" if interested :) Feel free to reblog/ add on!

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summercreolefanfictioner · 8 months

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trying to behave (kanato x maya modern college au)

summary: what a bad girl she was, longing for a boy that would never be hers... or not? (side story of this headcanon)

tropes: parents are friends, childhood friends, college dates, modern au lovers, trial dating, slowburn, eventual smut, sexual innuendos, college lovers

mentions: nsfw (you are warned)

a/n: bcos ariana's fantasize got me in a chokehold and I thought it would initially remind me of ayayui until I realized this is definitely kanatoxmaya in modern college au

youtube

As a budding 14-year-old, Maya wanted nothing but the attention of a certain Sakamaki. You know, the middle triplet.

And it sounds so baffling because she could've gone for the older, quiet one who logs around like a bear or the one with nerdy, hot glasses who speaks so fluently like butter spread on toast, but no. She had to go for the hysterical, temperamental, moody, sassy, childish Sakamaki who only attends his father's parties because there's an assortment of sweets on this one table and he'll do nothing but grab his own plate, stack it up with sweets, and munch away in one corner. Maya never bothered to disturb him because she watched one girl try to flirt with him, and the next thing, he was lashing at her like there was no tomorrow.

So Maya has decided since then, I will not make a move on him, ever. Like ever. Never ever. If he likes me, then good. If not, then still good. Chant the mantra like magic. Rinse. Repeat.

But being in love means being foolish because poor Maya would entertain some guys who would try to date her because she's rich and capable until she finds herself looking at Kanato from across the room either talking sweetly and sneakily to this one girl he's been holding hands with all afternoon. Worse, he would glance in her direction and almost catch her staring and she would scold herself mentally for this shameless behavior.

And this went on for six years. Maya swore sometimes she was going crazy at the fact that she imagined herself as the girl he'd been with in broad daylight, wishing she could meet his gaze and kiss his lips in private because Maya had a hunch Kanato would take things further somewhere no one could see.

Every day was a frustrating struggle, boys dropping by, exchanging pleasantries, boys leaving her alone, but she still longed for Kanato and she witnessed how he changed girls discreetly. She reminds herself of her old mantra because she was becoming insane at the mere idea of her falling so hard for him.

This is unbecoming. This is not like you, Maya!

But as if she took her own advice. Every night, she would dream of him hovering on top of her, his fingers tracing the part between her collarbones until it reached down the space between her breasts. He would smirk in her ear, telling her how foolish she was. I'm dating someone, you know. It's okay, I don't mind. Because she was an idiot who opened her legs easily just because there was some sort of magnetic pull he was doing.

And she imagined him making love to her, being rough yet gentle and needy as they cling to each other. He would moan her name because she thinks he loves her like that. Ah, she wanted things to be like this. Only if he was hers because she had always been his since the beginning.

She imagined him to be the type to leave hickeys everywhere, but only in areas no one would see. He liked claiming what was his, and she was no exception. Afterward, she would arch her back wantonly, embracing him until morning.

And then she would wake up with a red face, her panties wet, hair disheveled, and nightgown rising to her stomach.

Oh dear. This is bad.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You like him, don't cha?" Ayato teased one time, dropping by the university cafe to specifically look for her and confirm his suspicions because he is so perceptive and smartass like that. Pft. What an Ore-sama.

"So what?" Maya shot back because she had nothing to deny. It's not as if she wants Kanato to date her (of course, she secretly wants it but it's not like she'll die if he doesn't).

"Kanato's single right now." Ayato intentionally wanted her to know because he was sick and tired of his brother being a prickly gremlin towards girls. Plus, he had already witnessed Maya giving Kanato this longing, lovesick expression for years now.

Until one day—

"Let's go on a trial date, Maya-san," Kanato said so casually because he believed his word was so absolute like that.

And trial date they did. Everything was going so well until Kanato decided not to talk to her anymore. Maya still tried to argue with Kanato about why he was ignoring her.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU TOLD THAT GUY AT THE TRAIN STATION YOU DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND!"

"W-WHA—HOW DID YOU—BUT I REALLY DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND!"

"BUT YOU SAID YOU LIKE ME!"

Maya blushed at that. Of course, she likes him, duh! But she needed to focus on the matter at hand.

"I LIKE YOU, AND I STILL DO. BUT AS LONG AS WE ARE NOT DATING, THEN I DON’T HAVE A BOYFRIEND, OKAY? SO CAN YOU PLEASE JUST—"

"AH! MOU! WHY DON'T YOU USE YOUR HEAD FOR ONCE?! I LIKE YOU! I LIKE YOU! I LIKE YOU, OKAY?! SO THE NEXT TIME SOMEONE ASKS YOU OUT, PLEASE TELL THEM YOU'RE UNAVAILABLE!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LIKE ME—"

And here they were, cooling off the steam by kissing each other with all the pent-up emotions they'd been having. It wasn't like how she imagined their kiss to be. It was sweet and romantic, but it was full of passion and danger, a darkness that could swallow her whole.

It took Kanato a few seconds to strip her from her clothes, her eyes widening at the fact that he could unhook her bra just like that. And he kissed her again, holding her face in his hands because he really wanted to savor her taste and make sure she was there. Then he pulled away for a moment when her back hit the mattress, taking off his clothes so he could get this thing over once and for all.

Maya swallowed in anticipation, her eyes tracing his body. Of course, Kanato isn't as muscular as his brothers since he has this lanky build but she could still make out a few muscles from his arms and a tiny hint of abs from his waist.

How did he manage to have this type of body by just eating sweets and locking himself in his room all day?

Kanato leaned towards her, his face dangerously close. "Liking what you see, hm?" he smirked evilly, chuckling as she tried to hide her face with her hands. "Speaking of which, you do that all the time you know."

Maya narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I always catch you staring at me, in case you're wondering."

She sat up in shock, instantly covering her body with the sheets as her mind reeled in all the moments she'd been watching him. And when she looked at him again, he only added, "Don't look at me like that. I only realized it just now."

Kanato slowly removed the sheets from her body, setting her down again and pinning her arms with one hand. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"You've been doing that ever since we were 14, weirdo," he informed, witnessing how her chest would breathe up and down because she was trying to calm herself. "I've always wondered why you do... until I realized everything during the first time you said you like me."

Maya looked away from him, her face and body betraying her as he nuzzled his face down her neck.

"I wonder what things I'm doing to you in your imagination."

Now that made her stare back at him, feeling naked under his gaze because nothing escapes him. Of course, he's Kanato Sakamaki. His words are absolute. She might be foolish then for having these intimate delusions, but she's more foolish now that she's getting exposed in front of him.

"Say, Maya-san..."

He props back up, opens her legs wide, and readies himself to enter her.

"Let's find that out, shall we?"

part 2

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atmilliways · 8 months

Text

Wrong On The Money (45)

part 45 of ?? | 681 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Eddie spends the next few days walking on air.

I ❤️ Uncle Wayne.

45.

Eddie spends the next few days walking on air.

Sure, they haven’t exactly defined their relationship yet. But he woke up cuddling Steve Harrington, and ever since then they kiss each other silly whenever they’re alone together. There’s even some backing each other into walls or pushing up against doors. And whenever Eddie slips into Steve’s room, he’s always greeted warmly, if sleepily.

Steve likes to be the little spoon. Eddie likes to nuzzle into the finer strands of his thick, glorious hair at the base of his neck and press reverent kisses until one of them falls asleep. It works.

A huge part of Eddie is still shocked that Steve is interested in him at all, after all the shit he’s pulled and some of his dumbass friends’ crap. But he’s starting to get it—to get Steve, and the way he thinks about himself as perpetually making up for his past douchebag tendencies. Which. . . . Yeah. There had been a time or two, or seven (or thirty), where Tommy H. had shoved him into a locker or a trash can or a wall, or any of the other popular kids had made a scathing (if vapid) comment about Eddie or his little sheep, and Steve had just laughed. It hadn’t felt great.

But after Vecna and the Upside Down and nearly being eaten alive by demonic hive mind bats, all that paled in comparison. Eddie keeps telling him that, keeps reassuring him that he’s a good guy, really, because if there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s the injustice of someone undervaluing themselves and letting the world grind them down. (That’s what’s killing the kids, after all.) And if Steve reassures him right back at every turn, well. . . . That’s a surprising bonus that he’s learning to hear right alongside him.

Wayne stops him midway through grabbing his van keys to go pick up groceries. “What’s up with you, Ed?”

“Nothing,” Eddie fibs. “I’m just having a good day. You don’t want me to have a good day?”

Wayne raises an eyebrow. “Cut that sass. I ain’t saying you’re in a suspiciously good mood, but I am curious to know what’s made my favorite kid so happy lately.”

Favorite kid, ha. Only kid, in point of fact, and usually Eddie might remind him of that and get called a smartass. He wonders if his uncle has started thinking of Steve as part of the family already.

. . . Oh that stirs up feelings he’s not sure he’s ready for—afraid to be too much for Steve when what they have is so new and fragile. They haven’t even seen each other naked yet, this is not the time to start doodling Mesrrs. Steve & Eddie Harrington-Munson with little black ink hearts around the words in his diary.

As if Wayne can read his mind, the next question is, “You patch things up with Steve?”

Eddie can feel himself blushing, can feel the definitely stupid smile pushing its way onto his face. This is why he tries to put on a front of mean and scary as often as possible, but that has never, not once, worked at home.

“I . . . might have,” he hedges. He doesn’t want to jinx it by saying anything. If it’s spoken into reality then it becomes solid, and solid things can break. Which will probably happen eventually, but he’d like to put that off as long as possible, thanks. At least long enough to get his mouth on more of Steve—

Wait, he shouldn’t daydream in front of Wayne.

Eddie tunes back in to find his uncle giving him an unimpressed stare, a faint uptick at the corner of Wayne’s non-smile that is definitely at his expense. “Well, good. ‘Bout time you boys got your heads outta your asses.”

It’s not until he pulls into the grocery store parking lot that Eddie realizes Wayne might have meant more than just talking—the fucker is perceptive when he wants to be. He just hopes Wayne doesn’t say anything to Steve.

But he wouldn’t, right? No. No way. Where would they be without family loyalty?

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #wayne munson #good uncle wayne munson #stranger things fic #my fanfic

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ricard-blythe-ffxiv · 2 months

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DWC - Day 3 - Bargain/Myth

Some lessons Ricard had learned very early on in life.

The fact that everything had a price, there was an exchange rate for anything one desired? That was one of the first.

The idea that anything, anything was unconditional, was a myth.

If one wanted something, they were going to pay something, whether the price was in blood, in time, in gil, or by some other means. It didn’t matter, and no amount of haggling or bargaining would reduce the number to zero.

He was drawn from his thoughts as the carriage he was riding in hit a bump, jarring him - though he managed to stay upright, refocusing on the journal in his lap, his pen meeting paper once again trying to put pieces together of a scattered timeline of another’s past.

With things changing as rapidly as they were, he couldn’t help the lingering question in the back of his mind - what would the price be this time?

@daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2024 #the perceptive smartass #it’s short but it’s something

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promethea-silk · 5 months

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No Salvation Where I'm From

Her days had fallen relatively quiet since she last spoke with Ricard, the anticipation from awaiting word of the man’s meeting with Vahalia Cress quickly fading after a certain point. Cordelia had gone about her business, readying the ledgers and ensuring her products were all in order to be sent out on the Cress’ ship. Her mind rarely lingered on one thing for far too long, it raced beyond a singular concentration as the woman was ever moving. Could it be that her conscience was weighing on her, the guilt of pulling Ricard into a risky situation on her behalf eating away at her thoughts and thus she pushed it aside? Doubtful, extremely so, but there had been the briefest glimmer of this in her mind before it fell to the back of her awareness as day to day tasks consumed her.

Having received the rather terse letter by way of Wren’s deliverance, Cordelia had simply taken up her glass of wine to polish it off before penning a similar succinct response that held solely where her home was located within the city and when he should arrive. She had muddled through her options going forward in the matter, coming to two conclusions that would be kept to herself until hearing what Ricard would have to say when he arrived. Formed in blackened lace and silks, she roamed the hallways until finding settlement in a room off from the main floors, comfortable and lavished seating of various types set about the area. Bookshelves lined the perimeters of the room, taking up nearly every wall, and a moderately sized couch set closer to the middle of the room where a cart held various bottles filled with different hues of liquids within them depending on your mood.

Ricard knew most of the Ishgard well enough to navigate it with his eyes closed - the address she’d sent was one that was unfamiliar, but hadn’t taken long to find, as there were few places he hadn’t visited with some amount of frequency, whether that had been for his business, or his uncle’s. Regardless, he’d found his way there with relative ease, arriving just as the sun was setting, his firm knock at the door signaling his arrival and his darkened gaze meeting whomever happened to open the door.

He wasted little time giving his name and purpose, assuming the individual knew why he was there, and followed them back until he spotted his quarry, not bothering to wait to be announced. “Cordelia, we’ve a bit of an issue.” He offered a quick not to whatever individual had led him back before moving into the room. His facial hair was a bit thicker than usual, the circles under his eyes a bit darker - it was clear he hadn’t slept the night before. “Vahalia took the news about as well as I expected, which was not well at all, and she didn’t take kindly to the fact that I’ve been keeping an eye on your brother-in-law. In fact I was offered quite an interesting choice.”

“The job or my life - so I thought we might need to have a chat.”

Cordelia had barely offered any reaction when he came through the door, having expected such a greeting. She simply lifted her gaze from the book in her hands and sighed heavily, giving him a very pointed look. “Ricard.” The name was said sharply, mingling with the sound of the book snapping shut. Her demeanor was similar to that of a mother about to scold their child for bad manners. “We really need to work on your greetings.”

A flash of a smirk graced her lips as she adjusted in her rather lounged position on a large couch by the fireplace that crackled and popped with life. With a bit of a stretch, she reached out to pluck up the unusually filled glass of wine to bring it to her lips, emptying it just a bit before returning it to the cart that was placed next to the couch. Next to the glass was a piece of parchment and a pouch that rivaled the two she had given him upon the meeting when he had accepted the job. Waving a hand toward him, she nodded. “Well, go on then. And since you’re here, might as well make yourself comfortable, you look awful.”

“Sleep has been a bit elusive.” He looked for an empty seat, finding a spot and easing down before rubbing his temples in small circles trying to ease the tension there. “Vahalia did not take kindly to the fact that my tailing Damien involved any information about the Cress family. Any. No matter how trivial, no matter how small. Don’t know if she believed me or not regarding the information related to Valeria - at this point it doesn’t much matter.”

He sighed. “But, it does make things moving forward tricky.” Ricard glanced across at her. “I know Vahalia - I know she doesn’t do things by half measures, Cordelia. If I keep tailing Damien as is, there’s a good chance I end up in a ditch somewhere and Vahalia Cress will be claiming victory over my dead body.”

As he spoke, Cordelia watched him with a simple expression, almost as if she had already heard what he was informing her. Lips formed a thin line as she hummed quietly beneath his spoken words, head nodding with slow intent. “I see.” Once again, she shifted in her position, her back straightening to the poised posture that most were accustomed to seeing in her stature. “Well, we can’t have you going and getting stabbed again, hm?”

Pushing from the couch, she took the pouch in hand from the table, the parchment along with it, before crossing the short distance toward him. Arm outstretched to offer the gil to him as well as what would seem like a contract of sorts. An agreement of silence. “I presumed this was where we were heading, considering our last conversation. I took it upon myself to see ends tied, your last payment a little extra for your…inconveniences. Consider yourself absolved, Ricard, life well intact - sans new puncture wounds.” Her eyes fell briefly to his abdomen with the finality of her words, awaiting for him to take up her offerings.

Ricard licked his lips quickly, his brow furrowing as worked to process through what was just said. “You want me…to stop.” He reached up, running a hand through his hair. “I…alright look, I thought we might be able to adjust, have some of the men report to Baines or find a way to filter out things that have to do with anyone related to the Cress family but…are you sure? You have what you need? I don’t leave jobs half finished, Cordelia - and I’m willing to deal with the wrath of Vahalia Cress. We just might need to get creative in how we’re handling things.”

This wasn't a sudden concern for his well-being…so what was it? “And what if I refuse to sign this and refuse the gil and choose to continue to job - what then?”

A sigh escaped her lips as her arm fell to her side, items in hand. Just slightly, a hip cocked out to the side with her gaze holding steadfast down onto him. “Are you willing to deal with Vahalia’s wrath? From where I stand it seems as if you have been struggling to deal with it for a while now.” Pursing her lips, she clicked her tongue just slightly. Cordelia was hardly someone that enjoyed beating around the bush on things, she much rather simply get to the point of it all and move forward. The back and forth with Ricard was already becoming a bit frustrating for her.

“I haven’t been dealing with it as I haven’t been interacting with her. Probably didn’t make things any better when I went in to discuss things with her, come to think about it.”

“You condemn me for not paying you, now you’re threatening to deny my coin?” She chided, snorting out a huff quietly before tossing the pouch to his lap but kept the paper in hand.

He set the pouch aside without so much as a noise, running his free hand over his face in a tired manner.

“Tell me why, exactly, would you choose to do such a thing? Continuing the work, aside from preserving your pride. Considering the difficulty it was to get you to take the job in the first place, Ricard, I’m finding it difficult to see what about this job is benefiting you enough to risk your life, as you stated. You aren’t in dire need of my gil, it’s not a particularly rewarding task, and surely my company does not make up for the cons here.”

“You underestimate the pleasure of your company, Cordelia.” Cheeky - but his tone didn’t match the words, he was far too tired too…frustrated? He tilted his head from side to side for a moment before meeting her gaze. “The previous job was a completed job. The man was removed, the will secured, your assets freed. This-“ his jaw clenched as he stood from the chair approaching her, “-this is not complete. I have information coming in that there are whispers of Damien seeking transportation and a guide for the far east. What the fuck he’s doing out there, no clue, but there are trails just dangling to be followed that have nothing, as far as I can tell, to do with the Cress name.”

Cordelia had scoffed a bit at his sly retort, giving a bit of a childish rolling of her eyes before they once again settled on him. “To be fair you aren’t backing out, I am by offering you the option to walk away.” Her features twisted slightly as he continued, offering further information on the target they both had come to watch like prey, eyes following him as he approached.

“Same damn thing in my book. I’m not much of a broker without a decent reputation - stopping a job because of a threat, no matter how valid the threat doesn’t inspire confidence that I’m going to get the job done. As I said - I think there are ways around Vahalia’s demand that don’t end with me on a pike, and I have a team ready to head east…far away from Ishgard, Valeria and Vahalia. My team here would monitor his assets, business workings and report to Delwyn - who would then report to you, anything mentioning Cress gets scrapped. I didn’t come here to bail, I came here to find a compromise.”

Holding her stance stern for the initial moment, she released a slow and steady breath, the inner workings of her thoughts loud in her mind as it began to become apparent that Damien was turning into even more of a sly man than she anticipated. “Fine, I will hear what else you have to say.” Turning at the waist, however, she gestured to the accessible amount of liquors and wine, glasses for each option to accompany. “Have a drink, though. You really do look rather dreadful.”

“Lack of sleep - and not for any pleasurable or fun reasons - will do that to a man.” He moved over in the indicated direction, grabbing a glass and a bottle of bourbon, pouring more than a typical amount, not bothering with ice. He took a generous sip before capping the bottle and turning back towards Cordelia. “If I walk away that means you’re left trying to find another broker, and trying to find another broker who is going to do half as good a job as my men will is a tall order in and of itself. That’s not me being a braggart, that’s simply a statement of fact. And as I said, I don’t leave jobs half finished Cordelia.”

Once he found his drink of choice, she bridged the gap between them. Purposefully, she reached around him dangerously close to take up the already indulged glass of wine. “Yes, you have made a point of that.” Bringing the glass to her lips, she kept her gaze on him, her head turned just slightly to the side. Once removed, she repeated the motions to return the glass to the cart. “Then again, if I didn’t have you I would not likely look for another broker, Ricard. As I stated when I came to you, I am capable of handling this on my own, I was simply looking to…delegate.” Settling back in a stance before him, she waved a hand with a nod. “Nevertheless, you have intrigued and convinced me to hear out your further plans. No need to continue defending yourself.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her proximity, waiting for her to move away before speaking. “I have questions - but we’ll come to those later.” Another long sip was taken from his glass. “I’m waiting to hear from the team I have stationed around Ishgard, but my intent is to shift my focus to whatever is happening in the far east. One doesn’t suddenly start asking about transportation and guides for mere pleasure cruises. Once I have a few more details from them then I’ll have an idea of where to focus efforts, where to place people. I will, of course, have to maintain a presence here due to the family business - but we could still be receiving information regarding his movements - what he’s up to, where he’s going.”

Eyes narrowed onto him with his first words, head canting to the side a bit. With him continuing, however, she also brushed off the curiosity and listened further. “Now that I think about it…he has been rather quiet since-” Blinking, she shook her head and removed the thought. “Since he removed himself from the estate. I had assumed he was simply sulking after having been put in his place.” Shrugging, she hummed in a pensive state. “I suppose having your men as opposed to my own does make it easier.”

There was a pause as he took another sip of his drink before offering a nod. “Aye - my people aren’t known entities. They get in, they get out, you get the information you want and you’re not forced to…what was the phrase you used the night you pitched the job to me? ‘Dirty your hands’?”

A soft “tch” came at him when he repeated the words she had used on him prior. Lifting a hand, she turned it over and closed it as she took note of the sharp claw-like ends to her perfectly manicured fingers. “Mm, I would surely hate to have to break a nail if I don’t have to. Don’t get it wrong, though, I will break every single one if I have to.”

He licked his lips for a moment, downing half of what remained in his glass before setting the container down and taking a small step forward towards her. “But I am curious - you mentioned then, and you’ve mentioned again tonight that you’re more than capable of handling this task yourself, so why approach me with it at all, Cordelia?"

When he stepped closer, Cordelia returned her steel hues to his own, a brow raising as she seemed to challenge the man. “I recall you asking me that very question the night I originally came to you. I believe I answered it.”

“You told me you wanted eyes on him, sure. But as you said, you didn’t need a broker in the first place. And yet you choose to seek out one that has a tie to the woman that Damien is actively involved with. Don’t twist things - I’m just looking to understand your motivations and the larger game at play. There are plenty of brokers within the city walls who could have followed him and never had an issue crossing the Cress family. So again, why approach me?” One could almost see the wheels turning in his head as his gaze met hers, not backing away from her gaze in the slightest.

“And you said it, yourself, Ricard. You did the last job for me so well, why wouldn’t I come back for more?” The question was asked with a bit of a smirk, breaking their connected gaze as she fidgeted with the fabrics of her skirts, smoothing it out with the palms of her hands. “Is the reason why really all that important? You are getting your gil and something pretty to look at while being here.” Hands came out to her sides just enough to motion to herself in jest.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps it was the conversation from days before. Perhaps it was the mention of him ‘just getting his gil’ or just ‘looking at something pretty’ in the process. Or perhaps it was the combination of all of those factors.

“Yes, Cordelia. It is. Despite what some may think, gil and having something pretty to look at aren’t the only motivating factors for my behavior.”

The woman sighed heavily, lids closing for a breath before opening them to look back to Ricard with the pursing of her lips. She always knew to be careful with what she offered in terms of her thoughts and silent plans. “I can trust that you get the job done the way I need it to be done, Ricard. Why would I seek out someone new when I already had a, albeit brief, rapport with you?” A ghostlike touch would come to his chest, fleeting and perhaps barely felt if he were unable to see the gesture. “Plus, it gives us both something nice to look at in the process.”

His gaze followed her hand, before shifting back to meet her eyes, unconvinced.

After a moment, she huffed and dropped her hand, pressing her lips together in one final concise decision. “I wanted to test the waters, so to speak. See the lengths and boundaries that were surrounding the Cress house. Not because I wish to involve myself in their matters or business outside of the business in which I conduct with them, but for the purpose of knowing what Damien tends to be getting himself into. If he causes an issue, I want to know the extent in which I have to expect blow back from Vahalia. All of the prior mentioned reasons are still reasons, but you were also a line to push those curiosities. Thus, I offered to be the one to report to Vahalia of her sister’s whereabouts.”

A heavy silence filled the room as he reached for his glass, downing what remained within the container before slowly, deliberately, setting it down on the nearest surface as he gathered his thoughts. “That’s why you were perfectly content to end the contract this evening - because you did have the information you wanted. You knew how Vahalia was going to respond. You used me as fucking bait. You had me and my men push the boundaries, knowing damn well that the Cress family was going to be involved sooner rather than later and knowingly, knowingly let the shit just happen.”

Ricard slowly turned his back towards her, blue eyes burning in barely contained fury, his jaw clenched tightly. “This never had to do with you brother in law at all - this was always about Vahalia fucking Cress and her house.”

She raised her chin in defiance, even after he had turned away from her, the rising irritation slowly growing in her chest. “This had everything to do with Damien.” She began, arms lifting now to cross over one another before her. “I offered you a way out at every turn, Ricard. Do not play like some helpless victim. I know you do you job well, despite Vahalia’s spiteful jaded opinions. The basis of this entire job was him, not House Cress, it was simply an added bonus. I told you from the beginning that I wanted nothing to do with details going on in the Cress Estate and that you or your men had no need to step foot there. I suggested I be the one to bring the details to Vahalia about her sister and you denied me. And tonight? Tonight I give you a way out of it all yet again and you throw it back in my face.”

One hand reached out in an attempt to turn him around to face her, though the test of her strength really was shown in that moment. She was strong willed but brawn was not in her repertoire. “Think what you will, Ricard, but I hardly used you as bait.”

He allowed the hand to turn him, fighting back an irritated snarl. “No - then what would you call the individual you use to ‘push curiosities’, Cordelia? I would call that person bait. I was being used to push boundaries that you didn’t want to push, to test limits that you didn’t want to test. And now you have your information and so what - I’ve served my purpose?” He pointed over towards the paper she had offered earlier in the discussion and the pouch of gil. “So I can sign that document, take the gil and whatever happens after that is no longer your concern, right? You have what you paid for.”

“Oh, by the Twelve, would you get it together?” Cordelia spat out, the tone more of a frustrated huff rather than overwhelming anger. “It’s like you aren’t listening to a single word I’m saying and simply choosing to throw a temper tantrum like I’ve gone and hurt your feelings.” Arms now outstretched at her sides as if showing she were empty, nothing else to offer. “I got what I wanted with Vahalia, yes, the information on Damien was informative, yes. That?” A finger directed to the paper with a sharp movement. “Was to cover both of our asses. Not just for me to leave you high and dry. What you chose to do, was just that, your choice and what you chose to do following tonight was the same. You are a stubborn man, Ricard Blythe, and I think you like the fire far too much for your own good but also a bit blind because of the many times you’ve been burned.”

“No, I’m listening just fine, Cordelia Gray.” He took a small step forward, closing what little gap there was between the two of them. Frustration and irritation rolled off of him in waves, and perhaps it was that, or perhaps it was the exhaustion that was finally beginning to impact his judgment - regardless he pressed on. “I’ve never denied being stubborn, but what is it that you’re claiming that I’m blind to in this instance?”

The muscles in her body tensed, teeth grinding together as he stepped even closer to her. While fear was not the word Cordelia would use to describe her emotions in the moment, she was acutely aware of the last time a hot headed man approached her. “I’m not trying to screw you over, Ricard Blythe, nor am I out to see you dead or in any way trying to get at you. I withheld details, I tried to manipulate the situation to my liking but also to help you and you ignored it. Now-” A pause allowed her to take a short breath and swallow hard, chin lifting even higher as she refused to make herself smaller before him. “- you can continue this pity party and prove Vahalia right in her opinions, or we can move on. Both options that were offered at the beginning of the night are still available. Take the gil, sign the contract, be free of this job and the threat on your life, or continue working with me and finish it out the way you originally wished.”

“How conveniently worded. You manipulated me.” Noting the posture and her overall tension, he took a small step back, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing in her direction. “Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?” The comment about Vahalia was completely ignored as he adjusted his coat, seemingly preparing to leave. “By your leave, I’d like to give the matter some thought. Assuming I’m still alive in the next day or so, I should have an answer for you.”

Again she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “You said the job or your life, doing work that involves them or your life. If you are keeping your distance I don’t see what the fuss is still about. I think you can drop the dramatics.” Watching him move to take his coat, she steadily inhaled before releasing the breath with control. “Do as you wish. But Ricard, I’m not out to get you.” She turned toward him, attempting to soften her otherwise harsh features in the slightest reassurance. “I don’t expect anything from you, at that.”

“If you think it’s dramatics, then you don’t know Vahalia Cress half as well as you think you do.” He adjusted his coat as he moved towards the door. “I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow evening at the latest. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Cordelia.”

[Collab with @ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Mentions : @vahalia-cress-ffxiv @spirit-speaking @damien-gray-ffxiv

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#moth lady #delia things #crystal data center #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv #the perceptive smartass #collab writing

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