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oceanxveiined · 1 year

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“–then we just need to carefully turn the dial here to expose the Pyro and Electro components to each other, and…!”

Danae grimaced as the soft clicks registered, shaking out the slight tremor in her free hand.

The last time she’d tried this, the whole thing had blown up in her face and caused a nasty slew of injuries she’d nearly been permanently blinded by. Which had only been avoided by a prompt trip to Durene, who upon healing her had elected to make Danae’s life utterly miserable for the next hour with the ensuing lecture. And considering she couldn’t even speak, that had been a feat in and of itself. She would have almost preferred getting verbal nagged than dealing with the extra impact Durene’s facial expression gave her signing.

Almost.

Now, one would think wanting to avoid such a thing would discourage Danae from trying again. If not wanting to avoid the scolding, then in not wanting to face agony and risk permanent injury should the healer not get to her soon enough this time. Most anyone would. But anyone who knew her well would also damn well know she only only ever took such things as a challenge rather than anything cautionary.

She feared no monster nor god, so why should Durene be any different?

That said, if she did happen to keep the device at a safer distance away from her face this go around, it was purely out of practicality.

Still…hubris aside, having to go back to Durene for help if the reaction repeated ( especially if it resulted worse, considering the changes she'd made since then ), more so after specifically being told not to ever try this again still added a lot more pressure now. Especially since the woman would surely be so damn glad for the opportunity to gloat about how right she was. And having bear Durene’s all-too expressive face and stupid little name sign once she saw the thermal and electrical burns again would definitely make the matter all the more humiliating, too–

“Oh…!”

Danae’s eyes flashed open as an odd sensation suddenly thrummed ( Odd, odd, was it painful? No, that wasn’t it- ) through her body, concentrated at her hand where she held the device. Thrummed along her frayed nerves and burrowed deep into her sore muscles.

Her lips parted in surprise as she swayed in place, brain trying to place just what it was she was percieving. Hand trembling in the wake of and direct contact to such a sensation, her grip on the device slackened a slight, even while the other tried to steady it. “Wh-what'n th–?”

Luckily, a deft pair of hands managed to cup it beneath hers, preventing it from falling to the floor and shatter. Even while her hands had instinctively gripped the thing tighter–

“Morcant?”

The name and the growing uncomfortable buzz under Danae’s skin where they touched had her fully snapping out of her haze, jerking back and holding her device closer to her chest. Perhaps a bad idea, considering how volatile the last one had been and the particular composition of this one, but– “M'fine.”

Da-Lun raised a brow but raised his hands placatingly and backed away all the same. “I thought it yet another adverse reaction. Though different from the last, I didn’t want it to break, so–”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she hissed, fingers moving the scratch at the still-tingling skin. “Wait for the damn thing to leave my hand before makin’ a grab for it. Got it? Or need I drill it into yer fucking skull?”

The man huffed out a breath, but nodded curtly. “Understood.”

“Good.” Even decently satisfied with his response, Danae still couldn’t help pressing her nails into the ebbing tingling on her skin to ease it. Though…huh, usually that feeling took longer to go away–

“So what was it then?”

Danae turned to glance over at Ozzy, the man idly tapping his pen against the parchment as he tilted his head. Wait, not idly.

You look like an idiot, the pattern read, when he'd repeated it. Calm down.

"Tch." Biting back an otherwise snarled retort, Danae rolled her eyes. And realized she’d been slumping against the work bench, straightening up immediately with a sharp jerk. Fuck, when had she lowered her guard like that–? “It–works.”

“I know it does, sweetheart,” Ozzy remarked, an insufferable, amused grin at his lips. He gestured a slight with the pen. “I could see the tension leave your body an' you gasping instead a' howling in agony or gettin’ crispied like I was hopin’–"

”We made a bet on its success,“ Da-Lun explained, ”I, in your favor, of course," as if that made it any better–

”–so clearly it must work as intended. Or at least, to your insatiable standards.” Ozzy snickered, rather amused in spite ( or perhaps because ) of her glare as he added, “I was curious as t'just how much so had it. Since it got you of all people to relax like that.”

Danae glanced down at the device–fuck, she was slumping again, curled around it too, what the hell–

“It doesn’t…!” She hesitated.

“Tell us honestly, now, sweetheart,” Ozzy chided. He offered another stupid grin as he waved the pen. “If not for me, then for your results. You care about those, at least, don’t you?”

Danae pursed her lips.

…ah, she couldn't argue with that. Or him, as much as she'd want to. She had to ensure the necessary observations were recorded, after all. Embarrassing as her reaction was though–

“It doesn’t make the pain go away completely,” she admitted, sighing as her favorite sound of scratches of quilltip on parchment began to fill the air. The sounds added to the otherwise quiet of the room, the hum of the device, the dimmer lights save the lamp at her bench behind her...oh, that was nice. So nice; she almost felt tempted to lean back and close her eyes to indulge in it all. Almost–

“I can still feel it," she continued, drumming her tingling fingers on the iron casing. "S'no magic cure-all or anything, it’s just…compared to how I usually feel, it’s…it’s…” Dammit, how did she explain this- “It–I feel lighter? Nicer??? Like it...it–”

“Makes the flare ups tolerable?” Da-Lun supplied gently.

She narrowed her eyes a slight.

No mocking. No teasing. Simply aiding her to find the right words. Huh...

“Yeah...that.” She carefully moved to press the device against her hip, sliding it further along her bad leg. And promptly let out a soft sigh as she gingerly stretched the limb out. “Note, closer contact to the more sensitive areas provides a far more effective use of the…th'–” Fuck, wait, why’d she say that? That gave too much away, too much that was highly exploitable, if the odd look on Da-Lun's face was any indication–

“Maiden’s Solace?” Ozzy offered, pausing to look up.

Danae’s mouth opened and closed, once, twice, before her lips pressed into a fine line.

He didn't go for mocking, either. Nor seem to have any apparent intents to take advantage of said fact, if his lack of reaction was any tell. Which was odd, because she would have figured he would keep more of an ear out for such things than Da-Lun. No, the only real problem she had with Ozzy piping up with his little suggestion now was–

“M'not a maiden,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose. Even if, sure, it was made for one in mind, but she was the one who made it, so– “Brigand’s Solace?”

Ozzy scoffed, chuckling as he pointed the pen accusingly. “Now you just stole my idea and made it sound more cool than it is, Morc.”

“Oh, come up with a better one then! I dare you–”

"Bettin' on what that I CAN, then–"

“Everflame Lenity?” Da-Lun interjected, before their bickering could escalate. He nodded his head at the device. “Considering the Pyro component.”

Stilling, Danae and Ozzy exchanged a glance.

“That works well enough,” Danae decided, shrugging as Ozzy gave a noncommittal hum ( ’I like the contradiction,’ he might have muttered, she didn’t care to make sure right now ). “For this version, anyways. I might want to change the Pyro source further down the line.”

“Already thinking of advances for it,” Da-Lun noted, with what sounded suspiciously like an amused laugh. “You really never change.”

“Well, I can’t afford to just settle after a victory,” she told him, rather matter-of-factly. “‘specially not when I’ve finally gotten a real breakthrough with SOMETHING now.”

“Cuz yer a shit inventor, sweetheart–”

“Oz,” Da-Lun warned.

Danae rolled her eyes, rather than dignify it with a response of her own. Though the fact that the–yeah, okay–Everflame Lenity helped keep her usually simmering temper at bay may have also contributed something. Sue her, she felt nice and relaxed right now, thank you very much. And ruining it to bite the bait Ozzy set out just wasn't worth the effort.

But like hell would she explain THAT to them.

Still…okay, yeah, this thing was definitely an immense help when the relief was closer to the worst of the pain. Especially pressed directly against her skin. It was enough to help bear with more than simply physical ailments, with the steady thrum soothing her usually hair-thin nerves enough to keep her calmer than she'd felt in a long time.

Did that perhaps have an effect on why it felt so pleasant overall, too?

Shit, were it any closer to her center, the ease it had in spreading the feeling to the rest of her body would definitely be inconvenient. It left her feeling too lax as it was; not focused enough nor willing to keep moving, like she ought to be. It made her want to take it easy, let her body rest. Left her feeling vulnerable, much too vulnerable-

“What is it then? Th'Everflame seed’s really not good enough for you?” Ozzy asked, back to scribbling down his notes. “Picky, picky~ What’s the issue?”

Yeah, better tell them any of that. They'd never let her live it down-

“Well, it works sufficiently enough,” Danae explained, looking back down at the device. She ran her thumb along the dial slowly turning it back. Hesitating when the sensations dulled to mild discomfort began to swell again. “And it will supply an adequately continuous source of Pyro energy to resonate with the Electro Crystal; thus inducing the energy reaction that triggers the relaxant properties I wanted. That is exactly why I'd chosen it initially.”

“So that’s how that works,” Ozzy muttered, more to himself than her. And being kind enough to mark the inscribed explanation over for ease in locating it at a later time. Which she would normally be worried about, him considered–

“But?” Da-Lun urged.

“But,” she amended, tone firm to ensure Ozzy heard, and heard it well– “The Everflame seed, like its source, can be…unstable.”

Ozzy stopped writing. A flurry of thoughts seemed to cross his mind before he met her gaze, head tilting a slight.

“So…it’s useless for dear Eliza, then?” he asked. Oddly calm, at that, she reckoned, with hardly a trace of his usual jesting. Enough to make even Da-Lun shift uneasily. Which in and of itself should have been a warning. Anyone else who really knew him well enough sure would have.

Still, deliberately ignoring it and the little hint of something in his tone ( bitterness? Yeah, that was probably it– ), Danae shrugged. “Not entirely, I would think. But it’s better than nothing.” She paused then tilted her head, a mocking grin at her lips. “What? Scared to risk yer precious little ward, now? When she could FINALLY get her much-needed relief?”

Ozzy bared his teeth in a laugh. "I just don’t recall clearing her to be one of your little test subjects, love.“

”She just needs to say yes,“ Danae retorted. ”I don’t think Eliza needs your permission to be a part of my little–"

A spark of violet had her voice choking back–Da-Lun had suddenly moved to stand next to her before she could taunt Oz any further. Whether to shut her up or because he had a thought he’d impulsively acted on, she wasn’t quite sure. Probably the former. Especially since he knew how much she hated when he flash-stepped like that–

“May I?” Da-Lun asked. He remained in place even at her glare, though kneeling immediately once she gave him a curt nod. He reached to handle the device–careful not to touch Danae in the process this time, thankfully.

Surprise flickered across his features as his shifted his hold on it–ah, so even Da-Lun was taken aback by the odd sensation it gave off–and looked it over. Once, then a second glance-over, gingerly rolling it over across her leg a slight ( oh, that...felt a little better; making a note to write down the way he'd moved and placed it later- ) to ensure he didn’t touch anything more than the points he was holding it by and where it rested against her.

Danae shook off the slight daze the sensation brought on her, determinedly looking over at Ozzy, who begun to lean forwards. Staring so intently he didn’t notice the ink dripping off the pen tip splattering on his pants–

”Hm..."

”Report," Danae demanded immediately.

“It looks to stable enough so long no truly jarring movements are made,” Da-Lun affirmed, pulling back. “Which unfortunately means Morcant here can’t bring it along in-battle–”

“Oh, the horror,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Please, not dealing with agonizing flare ups while on duty. I’ve never experienced that before–”

“–but it should be safe enough for Eliza to use for herself,” Da-Lun patiently finished. ”Since she is usually at rest and in tucked away in bed."

“And surely I’ll just up and let you just test that on her?” Ozzy remarked, raising a brow.

Recall exploitable connection, certainty and magnitude higher than original assumption, Danae's brain chimed in. Factor unpredictability, should be constant enough to use–seek gaining favor, ensuring no repercussions amid self-benefit–

“I can tote it around while here at home base for awhile longer, if you want,” Danae offered. ”Just to be sure." Compromising as it was, but if it meant getting on his good side here-

”Mm, I do like the heightened chances of you getting blown to smithereens,“ Ozzy mused.

Danae snorted. ”Ha–when boars fly maybe–"

”It could do some good in helping Morcant stay in a better mood during its trial run,“ Da-Lun wryly remarked. Gods dammit, there was the mocking she'd been hoping to avoid– “That would save us from plenty frustration. Or…why not try it yourself, Oz? For Eliza’s sake?”

The man blinked then huffed, leaning back as he pointed at the other with the pen.

“I like the pain I feel, thank you very much,” Ozzy drawled. “Makes me feel alive. S'like a badge of honor for all I've been through. What I've survived, an' all that shit–” Excuses-

“And I pride myself in that badge of honor as much as you do,” Danae retorted, rolling her eyes. She carefully rolled the device a bit more over her skin. ”And feeling the relief I do from it right now is just downright weird, I’ll admit.“ She paused a moment to brace herself, then fully pulled the device away from her body in a swift motion. Curling her lip a little at the growing, gnawing want to put it right back into place– “But believe me, try this. Just this once. Or what? You scared?”

Ozzy barked out a laugh. "Of one of your contraptions? Oh, very, sweetheart."

"Aww, truly?" Danae goaded. "Stars, and here I thought there was no gamble you wouldn't take!"

"Say I do, then," Ozzy chided, rolling his shoulders a bit. Ooh, had that annoyed him? That was a first- "I highly doubt it'd even work right–"

”And with any luck, he’d fumble it and it’d blow him halfway to Celestia,“ Da-Lun muttered, the corner of his lip twitching a slight at Danae's snicker. ”Spare us all his clownery.“

Ozzy eyed him at that, eyes narrowing just a hint before holding his hand out for the device. "Oh, I'd like to see Celestia tryn'n handle me, Da."

"You really think gods can't do what we have already?"

"Nope."

Danae scoffed a laugh then handed it off to Da-Lun, who passed it over to the man. Grimacing when Ozzy swiftly snatched it from his hands.

Seriously, was he trying to make it explode?

Especially since he'd immediately pushed against his belly, just under his ribs at his right side, the moment he'd gotten it. Which, recklessness aside, was already odd in and of itself, because Danae could have sworn his back ought to be where it goes. Pain relief considered, anyways.

Huh. So his weakest physical point was closer that area then?

A breathless sound in surprise had Danae's thoughts stuttering to a halt as she looked back over at the others.

Ozzy’s jaw had dropped, eyes wide as he clutched the Lenity to his body. Pressing it a little tighter, even while Da-Lun had tsk’d and tried to ease his grip, tried to stop him from fully turning the dial.

”Good then?“ Danae asked, moving to hop back up onto her workbench. A hand moved to idly dig the heel of her hand at the joint of her hip, once, twice, pushing down towards base of her knee, then her lower leg as she glanced him over. ”Looks like it, if yer all dopey now. Stars, did I actually discover the means to finally sedate you?"

Ozzy managed a chuckle. “Okay, so that…that really…!”

Da-Lun stepped to scoop up the pen and parchment from where the man had discarded them, then moved back. Oh, good, he knew the priorities here, as always– “Yes?”

“Morc, when you said resonate, you really…!” Ozzy let out a soft exhale, gesturing a slight to Da-Lun with his head, "C'mere, Da," then promptly pressed against the other for support once he drew close enough. No sooner, Ozzy's eyes fluttered shut, a content little hum rising in his throat.

He lay still a moment, two, before adding to his recount, “Feels lovely. Like a gentle...buzz? No, a hum, all through me." He waited a moment for Da-Lun to catch up, then added, "S'very soothing. Like…like a song–”

“Like Sister Barbara’s healing song?” Danae teased, shifting a slight as she eyed the Lenity. Stars above, the fact that she still wanted it back was a bad sign weak, weak-

“Oh, no–no, I don’t like that.” Ozzy’s eyes scrunched up a bit in distaste. "Th'shit gives me headaches just hearin' it from afar. I fear I'd burst into flames if she tried usin' it on me."

Pen scratches stuttered as Da-Lun stared at him incredulously. "She–she has a Hydro Vision–"

”Y'know what I mean, Da."

"No, I don't–"

In spite of the resulting laugh, Danae sucked in a soft breath while the two were distracted in their bickering, easing to edge forwards.

It was subtle, but now that she was a little closer, Danae noticed the usual slight furrow of Ozzy’s brow was gone, his jaw fully relaxed. Even his breathing seemed to be a little easier, too, with only slight hitches compared to the more pronounced rattle from before. A little quicker too, as though he were no longer carefully measuring each breath. His body didn't twitch and shudder as much either, no tension from how guarded and wound up he usually was; like a crossbow pulled taut and ready to fire at any moment.

Stars, it was no wonder the man started sounding like he had his tongue made of lead now. And from the looks of it, whatever he felt on the daily must be a nightmare to deal with, if even this modicum of relief worked for him. More than the aches and discomfort she did, for sure. Unless...he was just playing it all up to snuggle up to Da-Lun. She really wouldn't put it past him to–

”Still wanna hold off on it for Eliza?“ Da-Lun asked softly.

Ozzy hummed, eyes blinking open. “I still doubt it’s safe enough,” he mumbled, smoothly lifting it for Da-Lun to take. Rather unflinchingly, too- ”Especially with her…ah, clumsiness?“

”Ooh, don’t let her hear that. You know how sensitive she is about it."

”Morc–"

“Mako and Jade can help stay and manage it,” Da-Lun suggested, carefully taking it in hand then reaching for the cloth Danae held out. Awkwardly at that, as Ozzy still leaned heavily against him even with the thing gone. Well, he did have to readjust to not having it...that made two who did. What a massive downside- “We all could, in shifts.”

Shaking her head to dash further thoughts,Danae wrinkled her nose. ”All of us–?"

“Ugh, but then I’d have to increase your salaries to account for the extra hours you’d put in,” Ozzy groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Then where does that leave me? Broke. Ruined–”

“Mako and Durene would be more than happy to do it for free,” Danae pointed out, rolling her eyes. “Mako–here, Da, put it in this–loves making himself useful, spoiled brat as he is. And he adores Eliza, something about those Fontaine folk–”

“And Durene?” Ozzy asked, tipping his head back in thought as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. ”What's her stake?“

Danae blinked. She glanced over at Da-Lun then back to Ozzy. “You…can’t be serious.”

“Dead, in fact,” Ozzy answered, eyeing her back out the corner of his eye. “What?”

”Well, I’ll be,“ Danae marveled, nudging Da-Lun's hip with her good leg as best she could reach. Ignoring Ozzy's groan in protest- "You hearin' this?"

“I genuinely think he doesn't know,” Da-Lun remarked, disbelief clear in his tone. “Ozzy doesn't know.”

“Dunno what?”

“That is such an exploitable weakness.” Danae damn near felt amused enough to burst out in laughter. “So exploitable, I’ve been–Oz...!”

"What?" The man sat up fast, almost childishly petulant in his demand, “What? Tell me!”

“Durene and Eliza…" Da-Lun emphasized. Gesturing a little for emphasis.

Ozzy’s brow furrowed a slight, the gears slowly turning in his brain, then his eyes flashed open. ”Oh."

”Oh,“ Danae mocked.

”Oh, indeed,“ Da-Lun muttered. ”Now, Oz, don’t–”

“What a fucking nightmare,” Ozzy choked out, horror blooming across his features as he clutched his chest. “My Eliza and Durene…!”

“Oz–”

”Oh, stars, the unethics of a healer-patient relationship!“ Ozzy clapped his palm against his forehead. ”Durene’s been compromised!"

Danae faceplamed as Da-Lun sputtered and clapped a hand over his mouth. What was he trying to stifle there– ”That’s what you’re worried about?“

“My healer’s making goo-goo eyes at someone in her care,” Ozzy scoffed, feigned offense across his features. “Distracted, from her duties no doubt. Are you not worried?”

”I th-think it’s more of a benefit to you and Eliza that she is,“ Da-Lun managed. Clearing his throat and straightening up promptly at the odd look Danae threw him.

”Benefit to me?“ Ozzy laughed. ”Oh, no, you should see how she gets when I keep courtin' dear Eliza–oh...that explains a lot of her enmity to me now–, but, no, no, her feelings for Eliza are not a benefit to me–"

”But,” Danae pointedly suggested, “she can willingly watch over Eliza’s progress with the Everflame Lenity once she sees how much it’d help her.”

Ozzy blinked. ”Oh. Yeah, that. She’d love that.“ Seriously–

”Then it’s Eliza’s,“ Danae decided. ”We could have her–or, maybe Durene–report more on it and how effective it is for her. For now. As for the rest of us–"

”Any solid ideas for a more stable Pyro source?” Ozzy interrupted. And normally Danae would snap at him for it. However…

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Uh…haa, that–” She shifted under his stare. Alright, calculate the immediate outrage ( wait, why was she so worried? She didn't care ), bracing briefly ( oh, right, because they were more annoying than the others when they got worked up ), plunging the wound into saltwater– “A Smoldering Pearl should...work–?”

“Archons, Morcant–”

“Of fucking course you’d ask for that–”

“Mako’s working on getting us into Inazuma as is!” she snapped defensively. “And I’ve been there before–”

“Under Fatui diplomatic immunity,” Da-Lun scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“How do you expect us to get off Ritou even then, hm?” Ozzy chimed in.

“–so I know exactly where to go from there and what to do,” she stubbornly continued. “I can get us some disguises and use that Fatui Diplomacy to our favor if we really need all that, then a team of four can easily get in, get what we need, then get out. Simple!”

“And you have your crack team all in mind, I’m sure?” Ozzy asked, crossing his arms. Genuinely, mockingly, probably both, knowing him–

Still, Danae was undeterred as she just her chin out. Because, “As a matter of fact I do.” Mostly cobbled together from obsessive research she’d done on the needed source, sure, and perhaps all strictly hypothetical in its effectiveness, but– “One, I would be a key asset to this, since it’s a Pyro-based lifeform."

"Obviously," Ozzy drawled.

Danae huffed. "Then I would want you an' Da, as well as–”

“The only other alternatives we have to fight it are Durene who possesses a Dendro Vision,” Da-Lun protested, “Jade who would be absolutely useless to us with Pyro abilties herself, and–”

“Tua would be perfectly effective in providing ample distraction while the rest of us get to work and get it done!” Danae finished stubbornly. “Not to mention his Vision’s Geo reactions can get us shields while he's at it." Da-Lun’s mouth opened to protest again, her swiftly moving to cut him off in adding, ”I think that works just fine since I could help us finish it up promptly.“ Ignoring Ozzy’s snort- ”What, would you rather we ask some outsider for help? Da?”

Da-Lun clicked his tongue. “I would prefer we don’t go through the trouble at all!”

“Because you’re a damn coward!” Danae snapped, simmering temper at last igniting. Adamantly staying right in place to meet his glare, even as he suddenly flickered to stand towering over her again. Perhaps having instinctively made a grab for her screwdriver when he did- "This isn't anythin' new fer me. Fer us. We've been and always have–"

“We aren’t just risking two people like back then, Morcant,” he snarled back. “And even with the lot of us working in tandem now, you know damn well THAT thing is entirely different than a Pyro Regisvine. What you’re doing now is just insa–”

“We aren’t 'risking' enough! " Danae spat, slamming her free hand down. "And if you can’t see that, you gods-damned, half-breed beast, you oughta–!”

A shrill whistle had both Danae and Da-Lun flinching, turning to glare at Ozzy.

“Honestly, utter children, the lot of you,” he huffed, lowering his fingers from his mouth. Shaking his head, he met Danae's gaze. “Tell me, the Pearl will make it safer for Eliza? For certain?”

“Yes.” Danae huffed, crossing her arms. Both to press them against the gnawing sensation at her gut and in gesture. “It’s much more stable and has a more constant flow of Pyro energy. Likely will last longer, too.” She shot Da-Lun a proud look at Ozzy’s appraising hum. “And if we’re able to get more than one, not only is it extra insurance, but I could also tamper with them and see if it could help us not be so caught by the relief of the Lenity. See if we could possibly be able to control the intensity of the feeling a lot easier. Y'know?”

Da-Lun raised a brow. “You’re fully sure of it?”

“It’s…an estimation,” Danae grudgingly admitted. “On that latter bit, anyway. But, for certain, the Lenity would be safer for Eliza to use with it. And for far longer periods of time, without much–if at all–risk of the continuous exposure to Electro causing a terrible reaction. Especially compared to the Everflame seed.”

“Hn…” Ozzy nodded slowly. “I like that. We’ll draft plans for it come morn, then. In the meantime–” He reached to tap the box the device now rested in. “You let Durene know what to do, Da. She likes you best.”

“She thinks I’m the only one of us with sense,” Da-Lun corrected, snorting. “And after all that transpired now? I am fully inclined to agree.” Still, he made his way to the door without further protest. Pausing, he looked back.

“I’ll stay with them on the first night trial run, as well,” he told them. “For the notes. And extra security.”

“You’re the best, Da,” Danae called to him. Grinning completely unfazed at his withering glare.

“Not bad for a gods-damned, half-breed beast, right?” Da-Lun drawled, before turning and heading off. Slamming the door on his way out.

Ozzy's gaze lingered there until the sound footsteps retreated, then gave Danae a sidelong glance. “Oof, I think you really hurt him with that one, Morc.”

“Ah, he’ll get over it,” she muttered, waving her hand dismissively as she hopped down and turned to start clearing her workbench.

“Y'know, his kind don’t take so kindly to insults,” Ozzy chided, coming up behind her to take the box she held up. "They seem rather the smite-y sort, if y'know what I mean."

As he moved to set it on the shelf behind them, Danae snorted.

“Aw, what’s he gonna do? Cry to Rex Lapis about it?” She rolled her eyes. “I’d like to see that old fossil drag his ass on over here'n try anything. Oh wait, he can't. An' not like the others could do any better-” Shutting the toolkit, shuffling to straighten then setting her notes to the side, thank fuck they were actually well-done–

She paused.

Wait, why didn’t Ozzy laugh at that one? He usually liked her prideful little commentary–

“You better hope that doohickey of yers doesn’t hurt her.”

Danae rolled her eyes at the genuine seriousness in his voice. “Really? Open vulnerability in front of me, Oz?" Fingers drummed against the tabletop. "How bad did the thing get you, genuinely–”

“I mean it, Mare.”

She stilled, exhaling slowly. Alright, so…no joking around. Whatsoever.

A breath, two, then Danae turned around, leaning back on the desk. “We, of all people, know Da is the best person to protect her if it risks that.” She puffed her chest out. "Plus it's one of my works, Oz. I wouldn't hand it out for use unless I was certain it would work. One-hundred percent."

"Mm, true." Ozzy hummed, leaning in. Not to cage her like she'd anticipated, but to scoop up the toolkit, before pulling back to kneel and store it away. He glanced up at her. "Just I'm clear–we’re agreed. Yes?" A hand reached out. "That we can’t go near that thing again, I mean.”

Danae eyed him curiously, then sighed and held out a hand to help him to standing. "Hn." Even if awkwardly, considering he towered a near foot over her- "S'not good for folks like us."

It felt safe. Too safe. Damn near a trap of her own making, undoing forged by her own hands. An illusion of something just waiting to be shattered. One that most certainly would be. Something that'd definitely leave them at risk of being shattered themselves, especially in Ozzy's case, where the pain seemed to ramp up harshly once it was taken away–

"Right, agreed, then," Ozzy said, gripping her shoulders uncomfortably tight as he pushed to stand back up straight. "Glad you fed Da that bullshit of us wanting one of our own, too. Absolutely brilliant, he won't nag us to–ah, ah, don't you get all smug on me now."

He released his hold, moving to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes. Pausing to eye the ink stain on his pants, before adding, "So, we’ll never speak of this again, nor risk messing with that ever. 'nless absolutely necessary."

"I can power through pain just fine, Oz," Danae huffed, crossing her arms as she rolled her shoulders. "Have for years now, same as you. M'not Jade, for that matter."

Ozzy laughed, moving to bump her cheek with his knuckles. "But I still don’t want you compromised, Morc." A pause, baring his teeth in a grin. "It’d look bad on us if you collapse mid-mission or show weakness again, y'know."

A harsh flush rose in Danae's face as smacked his hand away, baring her teeth and snarling, "That was one time, Oz. Let it go. I told you, it won't happen again–"

"We never know." Unfazed, Ozzy shrugged and moved to see himself out. "Keep pushing yourself like that, sweetheart, it might just happen. Not that you've ever been a good listener–"

"I don't wanna hear that from the man who keeps using a Delusion against his healer's orders," she snarked. "Damn hypocrite."

"Ooh, perhaps." Hand on the knob, Ozzy paused and turned back. "Keep working on that, for me, yeah? And for your trouble today–"

He reached to rummage in his pocket, tossing her a small item.

Swiftly snatching it from the air, Danae glanced at her palm. Brows furrowing a slight as she held it up.

"A key?" she scoffed, raising a brow. "That's my reward?"

"Da and I got our hands on an Abyss Mage," Ozzy explained, looking rather proud at her now startled disbelief. "Pyro, mind you. Tua's keeping them company now as we speak, keeping them nice and weak for you."

"You brought one for me?" Danae's grip on the key grew taut as her eagerness grew, the metal biting into the soft meat of her palm. "Here?"

"A rather tricky feat to manage, mind you," Ozzy remarked. "But I knew you would earn it. In spite of all your hopeless little setbacks–"

"Oz!"

Pearl-white teeth flashed as he laughed. "Have fun with them, sweetheart. I might just join you t'get in on the fun." He opened the door and slipped out, casting one last look inside, "And good work, Morc. You did well," before the door shut behind him.

Danae let out a soft breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Slumping a slight against the desk now that the others had gone.

The praise churned in her gut, bubbling like air beneath the frothing ocean waves. But more than that, far more importantly than that, what gripped her the most now was the utter eagerness that thrummed in her veins at the thought of seeing their little prisoner now. In being able to carve information out of it herself, wringing every last bit of information it possibly had to offer. And if it didn't cooperate? She'd make every last moment the most miserable of its wretched existence, out of spite, in a bit of fun and stress-relief–fuck, after today's success, this was the cherry atop the sundae!

And if all went well, maybe she'll even indulge in one in the capitol, too. Maybe catch that little girl with the Valberries along the way and get some of those as well, stars, that would be a delight!

With that thought, Danae grinned as she tossed then caught the key, and rushed out the door.

#;mun drabbles #//Takes place for certain before the Inazuma quests in canon game events; if not v early on in them like in the Liyue stuff #//Tldr on the important bits; she came up with a device to help w chronic pain; but needs materials from outside home base in Mond #to help make it; more so to make it Stable and safe for constant usage considering it relies on Electro-Pyro reactions #//Thus enabling reason for her to interact/be placed in locations such as Inazuma and Liyue. For ease of plots; regardless of timeline #//The former having more complications; but w/ reasonable work arounds for it in the form of exploiting Fatui diplomatic immunity #v; intertwined fates (genshin verse)#//And now fun hc tidbits that matter to no one but me mjdnkdfg #//1) Durene's name sign for Dani is ASL-based; the sign for smart but with v instead of single pointed finger & a pause before flicking #//Bc it's got influence from the sign for stupid/idiot in it. So; her name sign is essentially Smart (Derogatory)#//But Danae being Danae can’t read the fondness of it; so she thinks Durene just hates her #//2) I realize I need to clear up a tidbit bc I hadn't added it in the bio yet #//Morcant is her code name working among the group; kept from when she had been with the Fatui #//Danae is her secondary name; and is what she'll most commonly give out in social settings otherwise #//Mare is her actual given name; but only a very select few actually know it and she's willingly given it out to fewer #//If I had to give a comparison; it's like how Childe w/ his names. Childe/Danae - Tartaglia/Morcant - Ajax/Mare; respectively #//3) Her reaction to Da-Lun’s touch is both her aversion to it & just bc of how their Visions/abilities (Hydro & Electro) react #//Since he constantly has energy thrumming through him as is and she tends to usually have the Wet status on her #due to how her abilities work. So she just naturally cringes away & anticipates she’s gonna get electrocuted by him at all times #//Yes; it has happened before; no; the others will NOT let her live down the exact reaction they'd both had to it #long post for ts #//Need to write rundown of allies/charas important to her story at some point. Make stuff easier to comprehend & then some #//Bc as good as she talks them up as a team at times & her thoughts on them in general; she is V unreliable a narrator #//They aren't as cohesive as she implies; so even with folks like Da-Lun being half-adeptus & having a capable healer in Durene #or even a merchant ally in Mako; they still have fair share of setbacks. Esp with Dani's own lack of trust in them & sheer ambition #to the point of disregarding her own allies' safety and comforts as secondary to the Main Goal she pursues; as seen in drabble #//But also they ARE friends; or some at least WANT to be (not that Dani realizes); but everyone's varying intentions/lack of #understanding of each other SEVERELY impede that at times & will bite them all in the ass eventually. Especially her #//They are a bit like a Jenga tower; steadily being picked at each time they cross each other's lines; but they make it work. For now #//That's the important bit to know while I get the other charas' brief descriptions up lmao

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robotsprinkles · 9 months

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anyway what's with the amount of SIs who don't enable XMP on their customer's systems? it takes barely more than a minute.

#and even on systems that cost more than $5300 (approx. 3500 USD)#literally just: enter bios after setting up windows-> go to advanced bios settings->enable XMP/Select correct RAM speed #like yeah sure the customer *can* do it themselves with how easy it is #but they're paying you because they don't want to deal with any building or bios or OC or fan curve tweaking or research or anything #it's not a job for ''random idiot who meets the customer 3 years after they bought the system because their parents are friends''

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cdragons · 3 months

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #michael gavey x reader

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incognit0slut · 6 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (15)

She ever thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is determined to find her whereabouts. wc: 3.5k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: I want to thank everyone for sticking to this series, don’t worry, I didn’t forget it, life has just been weird lately😔 Also I want to mention there’s like 5 parts left? I think

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"REID, NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT."

Spencer wasn't sure how many times he heard those words. He knew they were told to bring him comfort, something his team members kept on reciting, yet a sense of skepticism gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were nothing more than lies. How could he not when the only thing he could do was blame himself for what happened?

His shoulders slumped, his eyes were filled with anguish, and his heart held a heavy burden of guilt.

He should've deduced the real Unsub.

He should've been the one keeping her safe.

You also should've never left her fucking house, you idiot.

He hated swearing, even if it was in his own mind—which, truthfully, was so much worse considering he despised being trapped in his own head. Possessing a psychology degree enabled him to understand the detrimental effects of being trapped within one's own thoughts, yet he couldn't escape the clutches of his own mind. The knowledge of this predicament weighed heavily on him, a cruel irony that he understood all too well.

"Pretty boy, are you even listening to me?"

He was, he just didn't want to respond. Morgan was the third person to say those words to him. The first came from JJ, who was the first one to assure him when he had a panic attack at the warehouse. Second was from Prentiss, who he met when he rushed to Y/n's house after collecting himself. And now Morgan was cornering him at the hospital as they waited for Sandy, laid in one of the rooms, to recover from her concussion.

"Reid."

"I heard you," he snapped. Then a thought occurred to him at Morgan's sudden knowledge of his involvement with their witness. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"The reason why I'm acting this way." He had to elaborate when Morgan merely raised his eyebrows. "Why I'm... blaming myself so much."

"Everyone knows you're involved with her. Heck, I knew it the first time we met her that night. Remember that? You pretended you didn't know her," Morgan recalled. "You weren't as subtle as you think."

God, that night seemed like it happened yesterday. He couldn't believe how much had happened, and to think she was just a stranger when he first met her, a stranger he would never see again... now all he could think about was her. Her smile. Her safety. His stomach churned. The guilt he felt was a relentless, gnawing ache that refused to let go.

Morgan suddenly pulled him. His sudden, determined grip propelled him toward the vending machine stationed at the far end of the hospital corridor. Irritated, he couldn't help but drag his feet along the floor. "What are you doing?"

"You need coffee," Morgan replied, "you function better with caffeine in your system."

"We need to wait for Sandy—"

"She's not going anywhere, Kid. There's no use hovering in front of her door now."

Reluctantly, Spencer gave in. He allowed his friend to pour a cup of coffee; the warmth and aroma offering a small comfort amidst the hospital's stark surroundings. Slowly, with a nod of gratitude, he accepted the cup from his outstretched hand.

"How are you holding up?" Morgan asked.

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to the question. "It's hard to process everything."

A heavy silence hung between them. Morgan's sigh broke the stillness, and he began, "Look, it's not—"

But Spencer cut him off, his voice tinged with guilt and self-blame. "Not my fault?" he said with a mix of frustration and anguish. "Morgan, I was there before it happened. I was at her house before I left to check the warehouse, just to step into his trap. The Unsub managed to pass through Officer Anderson and hurt her closest friend at the same time. If I was still there..."

"Reid, it's not about placing blame. You couldn't have known what would happen. The Unsub's actions were calculated and malicious, even if you had stayed, we can't predict how events would have unfolded." Morgan gave him a pointed look. "Blaming yourself won't help her, and it won't help you either."

Spencer's head shook with regret as he leaned against the cool hospital wall, his thoughts consumed by the painful memories of that night. "I hurt her," he confessed, his voice filled with remorse. "My words were hurtful, and so were my actions, and the thought of... the thought of her being in danger with the last thought of me—"

"We'll find her," Morgan assured him. "And when we do, you'll apologize to her for whatever happened."

Spencer gazed at him with a sense of desperation. In that instant, he unearthed a deep, previously unrecognized truth buried within his heart. It was a stark revelation, an understanding that struck him like a bolt of lightning amidst the storm of emotions he was weathering.

For the first time, he comprehended the true extent of his feelings. Until now, her presence in his life had been a catalyst, a spur-of-a-moment he never expected. He had taken her warmth for granted, never fully appreciating the depth of his attachment to her.

However, the threat to her safety had shattered his complacency. The fear of losing her, coupled with the regret of leaving their last interaction on such a bitter note, had awakened a realization within him. It hit him with a force that was as terrifying as it was enlightening. It was a moment of clarity, a realization that his feelings were far more significant than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Spencer looked up, but before he could respond, his brief moment of vulnerability was abruptly interrupted by a sudden commotion. Without a second thought, he hastily left his coffee on a nearby chair and rushed toward the end of the hallway, Morgan following closely behind, as a doctor rushed into Sandy's room.

Between the flurry of medical staff, Spencer spotted a passing nurse and stepped into her line of vision. His voice was urgent, laced with concern as he asked, "What happened?"

The nurse delivered the news, "She's gaining consciousness," before swiftly disappearing into the room.

"We'll get some answers," Morgan reassured him from behind. "Don't worry, Reid, we'll find her."

Spencer nodded, his heart filled with a renewed sense of determination. The fact that Sandy had woken up was a glimmer of hope. It wasn't until a few minutes later the doctor emerged from the room, regarding the two men waiting in front of the door.

"She's awake and stable, but we'll need to monitor her for any potential complications." After a brief pause, the doctor continued, "It's apparent that she's still quite shaken. I would recommend that only one of you Agents speak with her."

They both nodded in agreement as the doctor left. Morgan turned toward Spencer. "You should talk to her."

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "I'll go check on Oliver in the meantime."

Spencer's thoughts swirled with unease at the mention of Oliver, their suspected Unsub who had turned out to be a pawn in a larger scheme, who was lying unconscious on another floor. He nodded, and as Morgan walked away, he slowly gathered himself and entered the room.

Stark, white walls greeted him as he stepped inside, followed by the beeping sound of the monitors rhythmically punctuating the silence. Sandy lay in the bed, a fragile figure amidst the pristine white sheets. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he called out to her.

"Sandy?" Spencer carefully addressed her, observing the way she shifted on the bed before her gaze slowly met his. "I'm Dr. Spencer—"

"Reid," she finished for him, locking her gaze onto his with a surprising familiarity. "You're the FBI agent she's been talking about."

A moment of surprise shot through him, the realization that she had been talking about him caught him off guard. "She told you about me?"

"On a few occasions," she confessed, and then her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. "You hurt her."

Spencer's heart sank deeper, a heavy burden of guilt weighing him down. "What did she say?"

"She never really told us why she looked so sad that night, and considering you were mostly the topic of conversation when I was with her, I just assumed you had something to do with her mood swings."

His guilt deepened, yet he couldn't help but notice Sandy's choice of words. "Us? You both weren't alone?"

Sandy's gaze held a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What happened?" she pressed instead, her brows furrowing. "What happened after I passed out?"

Spencer took a hesitant step closer to the bed. "What do you remember?"

"I remember inhaling something disgusting."

He nodded gravely. "We suspect the Unsub used Chloroform on you."

Sandy's furrowed brow reflected both her confusion and unease. "What's an Unsub?"

"Unknown Subject, it's a term used when we haven't yet identified a suspect in a crime."

A heavy silence enveloped the room as Sandy absorbed the information. Her thoughts churned, and a growing sense of unease gnawed at her. A thought suddenly hit her. She glanced around the room, her anxiety mounting in the absence of her friend.

The question escaped her lips with an anxious edge to her voice. "Where's Y/n?"

Sandy didn't like the expression that crossed Spencer's face. It was a look that confirmed her worst suspicions, and a wave of dread washed over her as she braced herself for what he was about to say.

"We don't have that information," Spencer confessed, and the shock in her widened eyes was unmistakable. Her lips quivered as her thoughts raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. She found herself haunted by guilt that this had somehow happened because of her.

"It's my fault," she whispered, her voice a mere breath, but the weight of her confession carried regret.

Spencer now understood what Morgan meant about avoiding self-blame. "It's not your fault," he reiterated. "Listen, there's no use in blaming yourself, what you can do is help us by recalling what you remembered that night."

Sandy's gaze remained troubled, but she eventually opened up about what had transpired, something he didn't see coming.

"I- It was Eric," she admitted, her voice trembling with the admission. "Eric came with me to her house."

Spencer was struck by shock and disbelief, his mind racing to process this revelation.

"Eric Adler?"

She nodded in confirmation, and his world collapsed.

Spencer wasn't perfect. He knew that, like anyone else, he could make mistakes. Typically, he accepted his humanity and the occasional errors that came with it. However, now was not the time for him to make any mistakes, not when her life hung on the line.

He felt like a complete idiot. He was renowned for his intellect and now it seemed as if his stupidity was mocking him. The realization of his own oversight infuriated him and a storm of anger surged through his veins. He was mad at himself, seething with frustration. He hastily fished out his phone and sent a message to Garcia.

Find everything you can on Eric Adler. Now.

Turning his gaze back to Sandy, his features shifted to a more grave demeanor. The urgency in his voice was palpable.

"Tell me everything you know."

Her head was spinning. Y/n groaned at the relentless ache throbbing inside her head. It felt as though a sledgehammer was pounding her skull, every throb sending ripples of pain through her. Her body felt heavy, each limb an effort to move, and her eyelids seemed to be fused.

She managed to shift, and it was at that moment, as her fingers brushed against the coarse bedcover, that she realized she was lying on what appeared to be a bed. The mattress beneath her was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos inside her head. She shifted again, and after countless attempts, she finally managed to blink her eyes open.

"Took you long enough, Sleeping Beauty."

The voice sent a jolt of panic surging through her, eyes widening as she strained to focus on her surroundings. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint, flickering glow of an old lamp perched on top of a crate. Occasional beams of moonlight pierced through the dusty window panes, casting eerie, uneven patterns on the wooden floor.

The unmistakable scent of hay filled her senses, reinforcing the realization that she was in an old, rustic barn, long past its days of use. The walls, rough and weathered, seemed to close in on her, the space surprisingly narrow with the mattress beneath her positioned by the floor.

But that wasn't what surprised her the most. It was Eric, seated on a wooden chair that had clearly seen better days, watching her intensely with a smile on his face.

"If you hadn't woke up earlier, I would have resorted to my own methods," his smile looked even more ominous. "And I can assure you, you wouldn't have liked it."

Her wide eyes remained fixed on him. What happened to her kind coworker? Or her good friend? This was an entirely different man that she knew of. The eerie smile, so out of place in their past interactions, was etched onto his face like a sinister mask.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he pondered, leaning forward, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness. In his hand, she now realized, was a glinting knife, pointed at her way. "It's just me, Y/n, I'm no stranger to you."

He wasn't a stranger then, but he certainly was now. She stared at him, a creeping realization dawning as she slowly sat up, her fingers brushing against something cold and unyielding, and her heart sank.

"I wouldn't move too much if I were you."

Her eyes moved to the chain holding her, the metal bolted securely into the wall. It was a thick, unforgiving shackle, the links rough against her skin, the very sight of it sent shivers down her spine. Fear took a firm hold of her, like a vice squeezing her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She trembled, her voice shaking as she finally managed to speak, "W-Why are you doing this?"

"You're seriously questioning me when you should be thanking me instead?"

Her voice wavered as she responded, her fear making way for a touch of anger. "Thanking you for what? Murdering people?"

"They weren't innocent,” he spat, his anger flaring as he glared at her. "You should know better than to act as if you didn't want them dead."

"I didn't," she assured him.

"You resented them."

She let out a shaky breath. "...maybe, but I would never wish any of them harm." Then she choked out, "Why are you doing this, Eric?"

His features softened, his gaze locked onto hers as he leaned closer. "You really want to know the reason?" He held her gaze with a disturbing tenderness as he whispered, "Because I love you, Sweetheart."

Her heart pounded as his words hung in the air. "No, you don't," she quickly responded, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "If you did, you wouldn't have—"

"I said," he pressed on, the knife still pointing toward her, his eyes locked onto hers with an eerie intensity. "Because I love you."

She knew it was best not to provoke someone holding a knife. Instead, she carefully asked, her voice trembling, "Since when?"

"Ever since you started working with us," he replied with a smile that felt more disconcerting than affectionate. "You've always been very special to me."

"Why... why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I was scared of rejection, I guess. You never took any interest in me, and surprisingly I was fine with that, so the only way I could care for you was to be your friend." He grinned, his smile devoid of any warmth. "And kill people who hurt you, of course."

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and streaming down her face. Her trembling lips caught them, the taste of her own despair lingering on her tongue, a bitter flavor that seemed to confine the darkness of the moment.

"Oh, stop crying. They were never good enough for you," he chided. He got up and started to pace in front of her, his words steeped in a delusional justification for his actions. "Your scumbag of an ex? He should've seen it coming. That pervert of a lawyer? Should've cut him into pieces. And Jamison? Well, I honestly think I was doing a favor for everyone who hated him."

He gazed at her with a mixture of pity and disdain as she continued to cry, his expression an eerie blend of false sympathy. "Don't worry, I didn't kill them all..." He let out a sigh. "I took pity on Oliver."

"W-What did you do to him?" She cried, her voice breaking with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Gave him a few stabs, but nothing too serious," he replied casually, waving the knife through the air as if discussing a minor inconvenience. "He'll be fine."

Her heart sank at his callous response. "I thought you grew up together."

"I lied about not being close with him the other day, you know? We were best friends, actually. But that's another story to tell," he admitted, his words revealing a chilling aspect of his twisted psyche. He then glared at her, a mix of frustration and hostility in his eyes. "You seriously need to stop looking at me like that. I spared him, it was only a few stabs."

Anger surged within her, ignited by his disturbingly casual demeanor, and she found herself unable to suppress her mounting fury any longer. "You're fucking sick," she spat.

He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he loomed closer. "You shouldn't talk to me like that," he emphasized, pointing the knife at her once more. "You're chained to the wall, I could do anything to you."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of her heart, though the horror still gripped her like a vice. Her face was etched with a stark, unmistakable expression of fear and disbelief. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't act so scared now, I won't do anything—well, not now, at least," he stated with a laugh, taking a step back, as if he were granting her some temporary respite. "For now... I have yet to finish my vengeance for you."

"V- Vengeance? You think of them as vengeance?" She asked in disbelief. "Oliver didn't even hurt me."

"He kept pestering you when you clearly weren't interested in him, he needed a little lesson," he explained, a chilling justification in his tone. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "But there is one person who has hurt you recently, and I think we both know who that is."

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, filling her with a growing sense of dread. Her eyes widened, her voice heavy with desperation. "No! Eric, no, please, don't hurt him—"

"He's not good for you, Y/n. He never will be."

"Eric! Please!" She was beginning to wail, her pleas filled with anguish and despair, as she felt the walls of her world closing in on her. The chains rattled ominously when she moved. "Please..."

"I need to punish him, Sweetheart, he hurt you," he said with a chilling detachment. He gave her a pitiful look. "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Please—Please don't, Eric," She pleaded desperately, her voice shaking with an overwhelming fear. "No..." She shook her head and sobbed, "Don't h-hurt him... please..."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and the disturbing determination in his gaze made it clear that he had made up his mind. He turned around, leaving her in a state of helpless dread. "I'll see you later," he added with a sinister remark. "Don't cry too much while I visit your FBI boyfriend."

As he walked away, the barn's shadows seemed to close in around her. She did exactly the opposite—she relentlessly cried herself to sleep, seeking solace in the safety of her dreams, however fleeting, as she yearned for an end to this nightmare that had somehow become her reality.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: y'all can stop cursing poor Oliver now😭

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punkpandapatrixk · 8 months

Text

🥀Sad Bitch Lilith ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We live in a world where being too kind, too sweet, too compassionate and forgiving could often lead to disastrous outcomes. This is after all a world where narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths run free without much repercussion. A sweet girl can’t be pleasant all the time; a goddess needs to carry a machete from time to time.

What most people have yet to grasp, is that Venus and Lilith quite literally make each side of the Divine Femininity coin. Venus represents Light and Lilith represents Dark; even then, they could easily switch roles depending on the situation at hand. Only if you want—you are allowed to embody both Venus and Lilith in their respective glory.

Do you really want to become that kind of idiot who sends love and light to those who have done you much harm? You don’t have to force yourself to be the bigger person in a conflict that was created for the sole purpose of stripping you of power and autonomy. Enablers and gaslighters enforce that kind of idea so you make room for their terrible behaviour. WAKE. UP.

So many women in this world have at some point been a Sad Bitch Lilith at the hands of psychopaths, sociopaths and narcs in whatever role they play in their lives. Hopefully this reading serves to help you turn the narrative into SAVAGE LILITH. The Dark Moon Goddess who delights in revenge for she knows in it lies EDUCATION for the imbeciles who have foolishly disrespected her kind, sweet, friendly, feminine qualities. The Dark Feminine retorts,

‘RESPECT ME OR GET DESTROYED.’

Black Moon Lilith is a Goddess of Redemption. She takes into her own hands matters of delivering nightmare to those who have wronged her. She calculates in the dark. She doesn’t ask for permission. She's a wild woman. She punishes swiftly. She moves history.

She is Karma.

Karma paid in revenge glow up, BITCH🌹

SONG: I’ll Make You Cry by aespa

MOVIE: Gone Girl (2014)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – When My Tears Silently Turn to Diamonds

the way your beauty irritates people – 10 of Pentacles Rx

VIBE: I’m Unhappy by aespa

You’re somebody who’s perceived as abundant and superfluous by others. It’s super obvious from the way you look, the way you carry yourself, or even your family background. You just… exude a rich vibe—whether or not you actually come from old money. Damn, you just have it in you. It’s something you were born with. Even if you didn’t come from a rich background, or even if right now, for some reason you’re struggling with resources, no, honey, listen: it’s your fucking AURA.

People can see either you’re blessed since birth—with money, beauty, talents, whatever—or they simply can smell that you’re gonna make it big someday. Most people you’ve known in your environment, do not like this about you at all. It’s their own fault though, why in the name of fuck are they always comparing themselves to you? Did you ask for that? Never. But they’re always imagining how nice it would be in your shoes without knowing for realz your life story.

They project their insecurities at you even when you’ve never wanted to make anybody feel that way because of your presence. In many ways, I think you’ve tried so hard to make you look ordinary, or in some cases, you’ve tried to show a lot of care and generosity. You’ve tried to make everybody see that you’re just like them even if your circumstances are not exactly the same. It never worked though—maybe it’s even backfired.

Your abundance… is simply irritating to them because you’re surrounded by motherfucking losers, babe.

silencing the negative self-talk – XIX The Sun

VIBE: ASAP by NewJeans

You should be done feeling bad for being radiant. It’s not your fault other people are ugly. It’s not your responsibility that other people don’t have money. How are you at fault when a good company chooses you for the talents and skills you’ve developed which they need? Seriously, it’s none of your business if others wouldn’t work on themselves to be considered an amazing creature in society. You keep being you, honey. You and I know you’re always refining your natural talents and deepening your base knowledge. You’re truly a hustler even if others don’t see that.

When you’re not saddened or confused by others’ terrible attitude towards your blessings, your mindset is really positive like the Sun itself. Of all the Piles, I think your heart is the purest🤣You’re more generous than people give you credit for. You’re always trying to make everyone feel welcomed. If you were a party host, you’d make sure every single person has a good time in ways that suit them. You’re that attentive.

Unfortunately, your Light, indeed babe, seems to attract a lot of harmful bugs. No matter how much you give, it’ll never be enough and nothing you do will stop the gossip and badmouthing and backstabbing. Because essentially, these bottom-feeders are already bitter about their own pathetic lives. They hate you as much as they hate themselves for not having the courage to feel deserving of the abundance you’ve worked hard for.

S A V A G E – 4 of Wands

VIBE: Hurt by NewJeans

‘Leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for you.’ – something I saw on Pinterest

Because you’re too kind, too giving, I think you’re the type of person who wouldn’t have the heart to leave people behind where they are miserable. Umm… you need to grow up a little bit more and finally see for yourself how pointless that is. You’re just one person, what makes you think you could save everybody? I hope you don’t yourself turn into a megalomania who thinks others wouldn’t survive without your charity.

Leave that toxic environment and you will regenerate yourself. As you do so, you become a vibrational match to some kind of a Soul Tribe situation where you’ll be met with people who aren’t the least bit parasitic. You’ve got to believe you’re deserving of a symbiosis mutualistic kind of relationships and friendships for them to manifest, OK?

As for the anklebiters? Hurt them with your leaving them. Hurt them with your totally ignoring and blocking them. I’m not saying you have to throw a brick at them for all the disrespect they’ve dealt on you. I’m sure your change of attitude will hurt the living shit out of them. And one day, when you’re famous and important, they’ll see you, alright. They’ll see you for all that you’ve always been capable of doing and they’ll regret they didn’t treat you better. And they’ll wallow in immense pain for not having access to you anymore. Nevermore. Leave them hurting in their shame and regrets. That’ll kill them😈

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻💙

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Gold Physician (Herodotus)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – You See This Glow-Up? NOW You Jelly

the way your beauty irritates people – Knight of Wands Rx

VIBE: 28 Reasons by Seulgi

First and foremost, you’re a damn rare beauty. I don’t care if you don’t think that highly of your physical appearance; bitch, you’re goddamn attractive. Take it or leave it. Your problem is that you act like you’re ordinary and that irritates the living shit out of your enemies because they think you’re fake. ‘How dare you act ordinary when you’re obviously that pretty. Are you mocking us??’ Yeah… Why the fuck are you surrounded by ordinary beauties? Have you got Venus squaring Pluto? Huehue~

Anyway, in any situation you’re an eye candy and everybody can see that. Maybe you’re dense enough to not see how others see you, but all these friends of yours, they’re hyper aware of how all eyes are on you the moment you slightly move. You stir the air in a way no other human does. It’s because there’s passion and authenticity in you that make you vibrate on a much higher level than most people. Really, you’re a rare gem but this could get you in danger a lot.

You’re the type of beauty that invites enemies actually because of your friendly disposition. Like, there’s this annoying gap that irritates people in ways even they don’t really understand. The gap between your intense beauty/attraction and your general politeness. You’re soft spoken, cheerful and helpful. For the most part, you’re a ball of joy and if you’re a girl, boys like you A LOT. You’re fun. You’re cool. You’re smart and creative. A lot funnier than people assume. You’re the IT GIRL. But the envious ones call you a pick-me LMAO

Envious girls put a lot of effort into brandishing you as a trashy character but by doing that, even the boys could see who’s the real G here. And well, wouldn’t that annoy their trashy asses further?🤷🏻‍♀️They’re literally ruining their own image by trying to ruin you🤡

silencing the negative self-talk – 8 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Forgive Me by BoA

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s have a heart-to-heart. Honey, you’ve got to stop pretending like you’re a sweet Venus all the time. You’re not. You and I know that. Deep down, there’s an evil bitch in you that wants to play with fire. I think you’ve tried to curb your Lilith practically your entire Life. Perhaps on a subconscious level you know this of you and you want to avert your eyes from looking at your Lilith. That’s how you seem fake sometimes.

Highly intuitive people can smell the Devil in you, but you act like you’re an angel all the time. And that’s annoying because your Lilith is literally a men-magnet and this often takes away attention from other girls but you act all innocent💩I’m not saying it’s your fault—I sense that for the most part, you don’t even consciously want this intense attention; I’m saying there’s this mechanism about how you’re perceived by your environment.

Aaand why do you think that is? Of course, because subconsciously, you want all of this attention. You always want to be wanted and liked and desired. You crave that shit so bad because when you were tinier you felt unseen. Un-understood. Unappreciated. Now, doesn’t matter who or how, you just want everybody to see you and want you, but you’re not gonna give them back any of that attention. You want to be unattainable. Actually, you are unattainable. You don’t easily let people get close to you. You don’t want people in your personal space. You just want the a t t e n t i o n.

S A V A G E – 5 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Savage by aespa

You know, this is all just a lil game to you. Deep down, you’re fighting this urge to snatch everybody’s boyfriends and husbands. Sometimes you get frightened by your evil desires because if you were unhinged, you’d want all these married people to want you more than they want their spouses. It’s not even that serious. You just want to come on top of everybody. You’re secretly envious of these little bitches who are—probably—loved by their spouses. And even when you can see there’s no Love in that connection, you’re still jealous that someone wants to commit themselves to these undeserving mediocre asses.

You feel all alone in this world. People are only nice to you because of your looks or whatever else that’s not even that important. And people are also nasty to you because of your looks and everything else that’s not even that important. It’s been one insanely difficult Life for you. You’re sad. You feel abandoned and unwanted in spite of all the shallow praises. And there’s this quiet rage inside that wants to punish everyone for not caring about the REAL you.

Bitch, grow up a little bit and you’ll see that low-quality people get married to their fellow mediocre asses. You don’t play in the same dimension as them so don’t lower your standards🤭One day you’ll see who’s gonna end up divorced and miserable because they all married the wrong people! Nah, that’s not even the important part LMAO The important part is when you’re the one marrying a Soul Mate after all of your spiritual and psychological glow-up that made you a vibrational match to so much REAL LOVE and you’re surrounded by all this money and beauty.

You never needed their kind of a glow-up; you were born perfection. You needed a different kind of confidence to SLAY and be very happy.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻❤️

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – You Thought I’d Give It All to You

the way your beauty irritates people – 2 of Cups

VIBE: The Weekend by BIBI

You’re this absolutely weird mix of devil and angel in one body. You attract ALL kinds of people. Young, old. Men, women. Animals and toddlers are either terrified by you or LOVE you to oblivion. People always want something from you, right? They either simp for you or act like you owe them something—usually when their simping doesn’t pay off LMAO That’s really weird… Your entire existence is weird. I like that😉

You’re definitely giving, charitable, although in reality you’re really selective with whom you allow in your personal space. ‘Just because I’m friendly with you doesn’t mean I wanna be friends with you,’ kind of vibe. Nevertheless, people are silly, and they cultivate this weird intense desire within them. They build all these unnatural expectations around you having to give or share with them.

In their sick minds, they demand this. When you don’t humour them their sick demands, they get ULTRA bitter, probably even resentful. And then they seek to destroy you. Weird. Weird. Weird. You never even intended to lead them on. People are crazy when you’re around. The worst part is, they never even had your best interest at heart. They just wanted something from you—energy, attention, favouritism, gentle caress, who the hell cares.

How much Neptunian/Pisces/12th House energy do you have for you to be this way?😷HAHAH

silencing the negative self-talk – Page of Pentacles

VIBE: KAZINO by BIBI

Unlike the other Piles, you don’t seem to have a lot of neg self-talk. You’re sassy, bitchy, and you embrace your negative qualities because you see the value in them. Society ain’t perfect either anyway, what’s so wrong in being me the way that I am? You go, girlie~ You’re a total believer in revenge and vengeance. You ARE the definition of Lilith incarnate. Were you born with it? Did you develop yourself to be this way? Who the fuck knows—that’s your very own secret ingredient~

You’d rather let the mortals hurt and rot in their own stupidity than let yourself be the one to hurt. Unless you’re defending those you care about, you’re never sustaining hurt. You hurl lemons at all your enemies before they could get closer. Any step closer, you squirt that lemon in their eyes. Their fault. You warned them already! ‘Hey, I’m nice but I ain’t no saint,’ is your philosophy.

And when you’re really, really, really done with someone’s bullshit, you ain’t afraid to spill some blood. You’re gonna be smart about it though. You plan quietly and attack unexpectedly with a demonic angel smile on your face. ‘Send a message to your god; you’ve messed with the wrong bitch, BITCH.’

You are a menace to society👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

S A V A G E – XII The Hanged Man Rx

VIBE: Vengeance by BIBI

See, you are one sneaky bitch. Though you are a fucking menace to society, you know how to act righteous. You also know how to act like the victim should the occasion arise—but this is rare because you like to appear on top of everyone. Still, you’re quite masterful at creating sad or horrendous backstories that would justify your wreaking havoc upon your enemies, or even just society at large. Your sense of morality is kinda shrewd LMAO And I think that’s because you’ve been at the mercy of someone else’s shrewd behaviour before, probably when you were a lot younger.

That made you realise you never wanted to be the victim anymore. If anything, you’ll terrorise everyone so you maintain your own safety. WHEW. You’ve got your trust broken in authority. Their rules didn’t protect you or even hurt you. So, you believe new rules should be made in their place. You make your own rules and you don’t care if that hurts some people. You have this dicktionary explaining what kinds of dickhead are worth sacrificing to your new-world agenda.

🤣🤣🤣You’re CRAZY!

I believe in you. I think you could change the world. But I think you’re largely only interested in your own world. The whole world? That’s too much trouble. You aren’t keen on destroying your small queendom/kingdom in exchange for world domination—you smart like that. Keep at that. WHOA.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻🧡

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Green Magus (John Dee)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Divination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

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love-byers · 2 years

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it’s been a year, mike. (MAJOR BYLER REVELATION INCOMING---MUST READ)

mike and will constantly saying "a year" or "all year" when talking about the time since the move when it's only been six months keeps me up at night

i saw people talking about how they say a year when it was only 6 months because they’re idiots in love and are being dramatic. as cute as that is, i didn’t really buy it until RIGHT NOW. i just saw it as a cute headcanon, but now i see that the writers could be enabling you to make this realization by use of subtext.

allow me to explain

^ these are the three times they say it

at first i thought the writers may have just used year because that’s less confusing for the audience because 1 year time jumps have been used before in stranger things and are super popular in books/movies/tv shows. BUT, it clicked for me that that doesn’t make sense. the timeline in stranger things has always been acknowledged. throughout s1 we hear the amount of time will has been missing several times (as far as i remember). in s2, mike counted the days el had been gone. he called her every night for 353 days. when el and hopper argue in s2, el uses specific numbers to tell us how long she’s really been with him. in s3 hopper specifically says ‘6 long months’ when talking about how long he’s been dealing with mike (lol). that's the same amount of time between s3 & s4, yet mike and will don't say 6 months, they say year. there’s a date at the start of every season. and in s4, el says this in her letter to mike.

185 days = 6 months (almost on the dot)

the writers have specifically told us how long it’s been since they moved, down to the amount of days. and it’s 6 months, not a year. this makes it very hard for me to write off mike and will saying ‘year’ as just the writers slipping up. also in el’s letter, she says this:

this is INSANE.

mike and will are saying the wrong amount of time. the writers aren’t stupid, they know how much time has passed since season 3. THEY WROTE IT. i’m a writer as well, and i know how much time is passing between what im writing because I CREATED IT. IT CAME FROM MY BRAIN. and like i said, the stranger things writers have proven to be very keen on dates and time. all of this happening in the same season is not a slip up, its on purpose. stranger things 4 had a 30 million dollar budget PER EPISODE. do the math--that’s 270 MILLION DOLLARS. and yes, i know they supposedly forgot will’s birthday, but that’s different. his birthday is a date that was mentioned one time and served no purpose aside from creating emotional tension in that one scene. none of their birthdays are important to the plot, hell, will’s is the only one mentioned in the show and it wasn’t even on his birthday. one date that was mentioned one time and never brought up again is NOT the same as continuous attention given to timelines/time jumps over the course of all four seasons. and some fans theorize that they’re lying about forgetting his birthday anyway. either way, its not the same.

so....the writers want us to know that emotions can make time speed up or slow down....and that el’s week has felt very fast because of her emotions....and then show us mike and will SPECIFICALLY deviating from the timeline established in the SECOND LINE OF EPISODE ONE “yeah, but you knew she was having problems for months and didn’t tell me.” “its been six months, mike.”, or “it’s been months, mike.” or not even including that line at all, or “the past couple months have been weird” would’ve worked and stayed in check with the timeline we’ve already established. but when writing those scenes, they chose to say year. which is flat out wrong and way off from the actual time they’ve been apart.

and what did el say makes time speed up or slow down? emotions? oh, okay got it

the first two times mike and will say it’s been a year are in the same scene: the rink o mania fight. emotions are high. they’re in a pretty serious fight. its not about something dumb, it’s about their ten year friendship and how they’ve grown apart. their friendship is VERY important to both of them. (remember when mike said asking will to be his friend is the best thing he’s ever done?) the third time it’s said is when mike is opening up to will in episode 4. it’s a very emotional scene. mike is being honest and vulnerable with his feelings. in this conversation he apologizes and admits that will didn’t deserve how mike had been treating him, which mike never does to anyone else. he admits his relationship with will is different and home isn’t the same without him, and that he feels like he lost will and wants to be best friends again.

and the obvious: emotions making time speed up or slow down doesn’t just apply to in the heat of the moment occasions. (in theory) mike and will are in love. the six months they’ve been separated felt like a year to them because of their emotions, just like el said in the letter. and mind you, will is canonically in love with mike, yet they’re both acting the same way about this. it’s not just will. it makes sense for six months to feel like a year to will because of his emotions, because he is in love with mike, right? well, mike feels the exact same way. this isnt even about the characters as people. narratively speaking, mike and will both doing this doesn’t make sense if it’s unrequited. one way writers show how characters aren’t on the same page about something, a relationship for instance, is whether they’re on the same emotional page about different plot points. something major and emotional happens to all the characters---now we watch how they react to it. and i don’t mean small disagreements & such, characters are allowed to feel differently about things. i mainly mean when whatever happened is painful and important to one or more of the characters. for example, steve and nancy. steve and nancy didn’t feel the same about barb, barb’s parents, and everything that happened in general. steve wanted to keep on like nothing happened while nancy was literally eaten up with grief, guilt, and trauma. jonathan was the one who was on the same page as her and made her feel better about carrying that baggage around all the time. they understood each other. and who was nancy in love with? jonathan. narratively, that makes perfect sense and even further sways the audience into understanding they’re in love.

so...what? the emotions that made mike and will’s six months apart feel like a year to them is....friendship? not a fucking chance. mike and el are a couple, and according to mileven fans, they’re the main couple of the show who are in love and are going to be an endgame couple. why save this incredibly romantic coded trope for will and mike, the best platonic bros? idk, you tell me. and the fact that the line about emotions came from someone in the love triangle?? and it was said to someone else in the love triangle?? not a coincidence.

edit: someone reblogged and pointed out how el said 185 in her letter to mike that we SEE him reading. there is no reason for him not to know how long it's been. so either he isn't paying attention to a damn thing el says in her letters or he is just extremely in love with will

another edit: i keep seeing reblogs of people saying they're probably referring to the time since mike and el started dating, which i used to think too. but the context when mike and will say a year makes it hard for me to believe.

"but you knew she was having trouble for like a year and you didn't tell me"

here mike is specifically talking about el's bullying problem which has only been going on since the byers have been gone and she enrolled in school. what he's talking about is something very strictly related to the time since they moved, and it's been six months, not a year.

"you called maybe a couple times. it's been a year, mike. meanwhile el has like a book of letters from you."

will is again, very specifically talking about something that strictly happened between the time since the byers left and the start of s4. he's saying how crazy it is that it's been a whole year and mike has barely called. but it hasn't been a year, it's only been six months.

"the last year has been weird, you know? and you know, max and lucas and dustin, they're great, they're great, it's just..it's hawkins it's not the same without you. and i feel like maybe i was worrying too much about el...i don't know maybe i feel like i lost you or something."

this one i will cut some slack, i think he could be talking about literally the last year, as in since the beginning of 1985. but immediately after he starts saying how home hasn't been the same without will (and separates his relationship with will as being different than his relationship with max dustin and lucas and even el), something specific to the time since they byers have been gone, six months, not a year:

in conclusion: mike and will referring to their time apart as a year when it’s only been six months is not a mishap on the writer’s part. they go out of their way to make sure you know exactly how much time has passed, down to the number of days, and they put this much attention on time in every season. and in the same season mike and will do this, there is a line in the SECOND LINE OF THE OPENING SCENE OF THE SEASON about emotions making time go by faster or slower.

byler is going to be a s5 surprise, but its not coming out of nowhere. there’s piles of subtext in every single season---enough that when you look back, it all makes sense. small details like this aren’t outlandish because this is without a doubt the length writers will go to keep something hidden, and in byler’s case and many other tv show plots case, to keep something a surprise. and for christ’s sake, WATCH THE SHOW! the amount of attention to even the TINIEST details in stranger things is insane. they put so much thought into everything---not just ships, and not just byler. idk how many times the writers are going to have to say details matter and that there are no coincidences until people believe them.

anyways, byler is endgame. thanks for reading :)

#another day of proving byler endgame done #all in a day's work #they are in love and they are dramatic #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #byler s4 #byler s5 #byler endgame #byler is endgame #byler is canon #mileven is bones #milkvan is bones #stranger things #byler analysis #stranger things analysis #stranger things 4

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aconfusedkitten · 2 years

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no one:

absolutely no one:

@stridingseer : this is lacking in worms

#cheshire rambles #enabler fam <3 #aka enabling idiots <3 #eli tag

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tongjaitongjai · 1 year

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Cryptic God!Merlin & Number1Worshipper!Mordred au - part 2

(Kinda an escalation of this post ) the Magic ban was lifted for a while now and they definitely has encountered a few weird sorcerers/Druids who is in Emrys cult.

So, when Arthur first meets calm and collected Mordred, a druid who asks to be knighted instead of licking Merlin he is very relieved like OH GOD YES FINALLY A NORMAL ONE

Arthur: I am so happy you are not one of those who starts hyperventilating and mentally screaming straight into Merlin’s head the moment you see him.

Mordred, offended: Why would I do that

Later, when Leon and Lancelot are giving him a tour:

Mordred: I understand why some people will get excited at the sight of Emrys, he is a god to us after all, but seriously, only immature fans get over excited like that; a real and veteran worshipper like me have a private hyperventilating session while praying to a personal Emrys shrine at night

Leon: You have a what in at what in what now

Lancelot: NOW, WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

Merlin doesn’t like it when people treated him like a god and also not quite aware of the extent of his godly power himself, so, at first he avoids Mordred because even though Mordred appears calm, he can FEEL Mordred praying to him EVERY NIGHT.

Mordred: why do you fear me Emrys? I pray to you everyday. You are my idol.

Merlin: BECAUSE LAST NIGHT YOU PRAYED TO ME TO GIVE YOU STRENGTH BECAUSE GWAINE CALLED YOU A BABY AND MADE YOU REALLY SAD, AND TODAY I WOKE UP AND PUNCHED GWAINE SO HARD ON THE FACE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT YOUR PRAYER WAS SO STRONG???

Mordred: It works?

Merlin: IT WORKS. THAT’S WHY YOU NEED TO ST—

Mordred: does that mean if I pray hard enough, you will be able to shoot fire beams from your eyes like you do in those bedtime stories druid elders used to tell me?

Merlin: DRUID ELDERS USED TO TELL YOU WHAT!?!

Three days later, the knights encounter wild magical beasts in the forest during a patrol, as they are so sure they are kicking the bucket tonight, Merlin appears and shoots fire beams from his eyes, annihilating all the threats in 0.3 seconds. Mordred is overjoyed.

And at that point, Merlin has no choice but to adopt Mordred now because have you seen how the kid’s eyes lit up when he saw fire beams? This boy's puppy eyes will be his doom. If the kid asks him to shoot electric bolts out of his mouth, he will fucking do it. Merlin’s mom instinct kicks in yet again.

Arthur, while finally is relieved to see them getting along, soon realises that his hope to have Mordred as a Calm and Collected Magic user who will help his ex-manservant, current-Court Sorcerer, permanent-his idiot make less stupid decisions has flown out of the window, THE KID IS AN ENABLER.

Merlin: Imma punch that castle-size wyvern with my bare hands

Mordred: Yes. you can do it #king. This is going to be the best day of my life.

Arthur: NO YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STOP HIM

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin crack #incorrect merlin quotes #merlin bbc #sir mordred #bbc mordred #merlin au #mordred #crack #my post #bbc arthur #cryptic god!merlin and no1worshipper!mordred au #god!merlin

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as-i-watch · 1 month

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Hey I know you’re busy and is very possible you don’t want to take time for this,

But would you consider ranking your favorite duos of the straw hats?

I WOULD LOVE TO

And im gonna make it a Top 10 just bc i can

Brase yourselves

10. Zoro + Sanji

I dont even ship them but there's a reason why they are such a popular ship. They are very entertaining and you know when they go solo shits gonna happen

9. Brook + Zoro

They dont have that many moments just the two of them but oh god they are good. They are opposites in the swordman spectrum

8. Luffy + Robin

Problem and Problem Enabler. He has no braincell, she has them all. He is full of bad ideas and cero preservation insticts and she wants to fuck around and find out.

7. Franky + Robin

Married.

6. Sanji + Usopp

I dont ship it but i respect Sanuso shippers so much. Usopp being totally able to handle himself but chosing not to when Sanji is around just bc Sanji will always play into his knight in shinning armour ideal if given the chance. Usopp not being afraid to be the damsel in distress vs Sanji's frail masculinity, its so funny to me

5. Zoro + Nami

Actual siblings. They will never tell eachother they love them, they fight like crazy but would kill and die for eachother without question. Himbo brother and Big Sister

4. Chopper + Zoro

Zoro met Chopper and lit become the meme 'I've only had him for 24hs but if anything happens to him i will kill everyone in this room and then myself'. And Chopper? Chopper is the only reason Zoro's dumb ass is still alive today

3. Usopp + Luffy

When they get together all their cells in their bodies vibrate in the same frequency. Nothing is serious, they will follow everysingle idiot impulse in their bodies just for fun.

2. Usopp + Nami

They most BFF to ever BFF. They have the best time and support eachother throught the monster trio bullshit. Allies, siblings, partners in crime, fellow bitches.

1. These two meatheads

There's absolute no other way around it. They cannot be left alone. They could set fire to the kitchen trying to open a can of food or overthrow a goverment in the same amount of time. Everything and anything can happen. There's no braincells ever, there's never been.

#honorable mention to brook and franky #one piece #straw hat crew #straw hat pirates #ask: op #ask

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beanghostprincess · 5 months

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there's just something so inherently poetic and romantic about zoro's devotion to luffy during all of wano that makes me go completely insane.

he sees luffy for the first time in like a week, which might not seem much but for them, who are used to feeling each other's presence all the time and did not have a good experience with being separated, it's torture to not be together. so of course they go all happy, kicking their feet and blushing when they reunite. then his captain is like "hey, this is tama. tama is our friend now" and zoro takes it extremely seriously and protects that random kid he has no connection to because luffy says so and, well, because she's just a kid and everything, but still i think zoro instantly accepting to adopt tama is really cute.

zoro acts like luffy's enabler during this arc, because his captain might do the most impulsive and reckless shit, and the dude will support him to death. even when he's just competing against kid and law to see who's stronger (or the dumbest), luffy is the most serious he's ever been here. of course, zoro has some moments of "okay, gotta stop this idiot" but it turns out zoro is fucking stupid too, and getting into a fight in the middle of a party while you look for your captain is just,,, so them.

and all of this is just silly moments that make you think "oh, okay, zoro is whipped, yes. we already knew that". but then he pulls the most romantic and poetic things we've ever witnessed in anime history and honestly, i fucking lose it every time he does things like this.

drake goes to them and asks if he can be on their side (btw dude could have just told luffy he knew koby somehow but okay) and zoro instantly goes 'protective first mate' mode and says "haha no the fuck you're not. disloyal people are the worst and you'll always be like that. once you betray someone there's no going back" which is something i love about zoro because, even if from his perspective drake was actually a member of kaido's crew and they're supposed to be the bad guys, zoro respects loyalty so fucking much that he doesn't care whose side are you on as long as you have your priorities and beliefs on the right place. i find that beautiful, especially knowing what comes next.

zoro is gifted a sword that theoretically could cut hell, to then being then perceived as the king of hell for the same reason, and then actually going to the battlefield and referring to it as hell itself because they're fighting to death against two emperors and saying "if you're sending our captain to hell, you'll have to take me with him" because he would quite literally go to hell for luffy. and then the guy goes and tells law "hey, this is going to hurt like a bitch and i might probably die. if that happens, you know, just take care of the rest because luffy trusts you too" and he goes and awakens his conqueror's haki without even meaning to and not even giving a single fuck when kaido tells him because his only ambition and will at the moment is protecting luffy and fighting for him. that, and also the countless times he saves luffy without hesitation during this fight, which are too much to remember but i swear every time he gets in between one of kaido's attacks and luffy, my heart does a backflip and i die. and also, the gentleness in which zoro treats luffy when he can't fight. the way he protects him when luffy puts all of his undying trust on zoro. they make me go wild.

the fact that luffy is constantly saying in this fight (and always, of course) that he's going to be the pirate king and showing it clearly with all of his parallelisms to roger, and then zoro pulling things that make him quite obviously the king of hell, just makes the whole "captain and first mate" thing seem so little for what they actually are. because we have 3 different couples of this kind in this story, and nobody compares to these two, because they're not just a captain and his first mate, they're literally kings. and i haven't watched more (i'm on episode 1030 if you're curious, uta time!) but i'm so excited to see how this develops. especially knowing the religious undertones behind whatever the fuck gear fifth is supposed to be (except for a lil cute and powerful af looney tune).

#anyway i love the way they love #and this is just ZORO's POV #imagine the way luffy acts too around him in wano #i could talk for hours about the amount of trust luffy has on zoro #they're gonna be the death of me #one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #wano

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mightyflamethrower · 3 months

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25 reasons Trump won’t pay a dime to E. Jean Carroll

That eye-popping $83 million judgment will not survive an appeal. A proper settlement would subtract at least $82,972,000.

In 2019, a strange woman named E. Jean Carroll accused Donald Trump of raping her in a changing room of the Bergdorf Goodman department store in Midtown Manhattan. Trump called her crazy, and a jury found him liable for both sexually abusing her and defaming her with the “crazy” talk. Last week, a New York jury decided Carroll deserves $83 million for defamation.

Here are 25 reasons why that’s nuts.

1) Carroll has said rape is “sexy”

She backs up this insane statement with, “Think of the fantasies” (which my wife and I can’t stop saying to each other). For the record, having someone forcibly violate you against your will is the exact opposite of “sexy.”

2) She’s already bragging about shopping sprees

Remember in “Goodfellas” when that idiot shows up at the party with his wife wearing a $20,000 fur coat and De Niro tells him to “bring it back”? When you run a scam, you need to lay low for a while. Carroll, conversely, is making appearances on national television telling Rachel Maddow she’s going to buy her a “penthouse in Paris” as well as fishing gear and a motorcycle for her counsel (could she pick weirder presents?). Her lawyer awkwardly murmured, “Uh, that’s a joke.”

Yeah, this whole thing is a joke.

3) The scenario she described came from her favorite TV show

She is a self-described “Law & Order” fan, and there is an episode wherein a man muscles his way into a changing room at Bergdorf Goodman and sexually molests a woman. This is likely where she got the idea. She’s also a big fan of “The Apprentice.” Would you like to watch your rapist on TV?

4) She didn’t want to press criminal charges

Being on the cover of New York magazine is one thing, but taking your BS story into an actual courtroom is a whole other level of fraud. When Bill de Blasio said he would change the law to make the case admissible, Carroll kept awkwardly repeating, “The experts told me … the time has passed.”

5) They changed the law

The case had no merit because the statute of limitations on civil action had passed. So what happened? The New York State Legislature changed the law. Is there anything that screams “witch hunt” more than that? What are we, Zimbabwe?

6) The man who backed the lawsuit is a major DNC donor

Leftist activist billionaire Reid Hoffman is the money behind this operation. His motive is obviously to bankrupt Trump so he can’t run again. Carroll denied this at first because she’s a liar, but her lawyer was forced to come clean.

7) The whole thing was George Conway’s idea, apparently

Though she denies it, it’s clear this entire plan was concocted by “conservative lawyer” Conway at a radical leftist cocktail party in Manhattan.

8) Carroll’s lawyer is desperate to fix her reputation as a rape-enabler

Roberta Kaplan was supposed to champion victims of sexual assault with her #TimesUp movement, but she used it instead to run cover for perverts such as Andrew Cuomo. She got caught and she got fired. Her comeback included representing Ashley Biden (A Biden lawyer going after Trump? Is anyone surprised?), but this case could permanently rescue her Google results.

9) Carroll’s dress didn’t exist back then

Carroll said the rape happened in the early 1990s. We just learned the particular dress she said she was allegedly wearing did not exist at the time.

10) She cannot remember when the rape happened

We’re not talking about the exact date. She can’t tell us if it was 1993 or 1995.

11) She won’t let anyone test her coat for DNA

Carroll calls the dress her “bad luck dress” and told CNN she will never make a talisman out of it — as though the idea had occurred to anyone. Why did she keep it around? This could be the left’s Monica Lewinsky dress, but she refuses to let anyone analyze it.

12) She doesn’t know if Trump ejaculated

I don’t know if anyone reading this has engaged in sexual intercourse, but evidence of the male orgasm is almost impossible to hide.

13) She is a serial accuser

Despite being a 3.5, she has claimed men have sexually assaulted her at least a half-dozen times. This isn’t proof of Trump’s innocence in and of itself, but it becomes relevant when surrounded by 24 other points.

14) She said it wasn’t sexual

Carroll has said pretty much everything that you could say about this encounter, from “it was not sexual” to “it was the definition of rape.” She said she would not press charges, however, because it would trivialize the experience of illegal aliens who are being “raped around the clock.”

15) She’s not his type

Trump is into elegant Slavs. This woman is like that hysterical chicken lady from “The Kids in the Hall.”

16) The judge and Carroll’s lawyer are pals

We’re told Judge Lewis Kaplan was Roberta Kaplan’s (no relation) mentor back when they both worked at Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison. Roberta Kaplan denies this, but it can’t be denied they worked at the same firm at the same time. That alone is a conflict of interest.

17) Carroll didn’t talk to anyone about the alleged assault, until she did

If a woman is sexually assaulted, she is morally obligated to report it immediately, so the rapist doesn’t do it again. Carroll did not do this. What’s more, she didn’t talk to any of her friends about it. At least not at first. This is peculiar behavior for a blabbermouth.

18) Even if it’s all true, the settlement would be tiny

Carroll alleged that Trump cost her a columnist job at Elle, but the magazine made it clear it ended her contract as an advice columnist based on nothing more than lack of interest. But let’s assume Elle fired her because Trump wrote a mean tweet. A good price for an advice column would be a couple of hundred bucks per piece. That’s $2,000 a year for Elle. Assuming Carroll lives as long as “Dear Abby” columnist Pauline Esther Friedman, who died at 94, that would be a whopping total of $28,000 (Carroll is 80).

So, we’re off by about $82,972,000.

19) She said women “love” being abducted

She told Charlie Rose (remember him?) in 1995 that women love the idea of a caveman knocking them unconscious with a club and then dragging them — by their hair — back to the cave. I’m no feminist, but I’m pretty sure the cerebral contusions from this kind of violence are not a turn-on.

20) She said it wasn’t a big deal

“I’m a mature woman,” she said. “I can handle it.” OK, then why does she need $83 million to recover? That’s four times the amount of money you get when your kid is decapitated.

21) She lives in a Mouse House

Anyone who doubts this lady’s mental state needs to check out her house. She calls it “The Mouse House” because it’s infested with rodents (to whom she has given individual names, such as “Terbrusky”). She has painted the trees blue. She has printed out 27 years of advice column questions and stacked them all over the place. Yes, writers can be weird. But it is impossible to look at her place and not think, “This is nuts.”

22) She is a hoarder

Hoarding is a mental disorder. You can’t sue someone for calling you “crazy” if you have a mental disorder.

23) Her cat is called “Vagina” — seriously

E. Jean Carroll is obsessed with sex and her vagina. She said she lives in the woods because if she lived in the city, she’d have 16 boyfriends. She’s 80, remember?

Her dog “Tits” has blue hair, and her cat is named “Vagina.” The left-wing media thinks this is irrelevant. “Among the stranger complaints made by the former president … was that the jury wasn’t informed about the name of his accuser’s cat: Vagina T. Fireball.” Uh, when the charge is “calling a sane woman crazy,” Vagina T. Fireball matters.

24) She writes notes to herself

Wait, doesn’t everyone do that? Not like this. “The Mouse House” is festooned with bizarre messages. Her microwave says, “Burn Baby Burn.” Her bookshelf says, “Always amused never angry.” And, in a moment of deranged honesty, she taped a note to a lamp that says, “Hold your nerve. Pursue your radical options to the bitter END!”

25) Carroll said she wanted to “rape” Trump

Apparently, she thought having rough sex with him in the changing room would make for a “funny story.” (Wait, I thought she didn’t tell anyone about what happened to her out of fear.) She also suggested she’d do it for $17,000 if he was unable to speak. Sounds awfully rapey, doesn’t it?

Anyone who takes this case seriously and doesn’t see E. Jean Carroll as a complete basket case is a complete basket case.

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