nia

>25, nature: timid, often lost in thought

[bocchi-the-heart]

nia. +25 years

currently very much in love with one piece. especially the heart pirates give me comfort.

Most of the time I reblog but I draw and write occasionally rarely.

Blog is not spoiler free! Block #op spoilers if you are not caught up with the one piece anime or manga. See my Taglist for more.

Fanart 

Sketchbook

Fanfics

Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader - Harbor [SFW]

[lavianim]

[attyrocious]

csp saved yesterday's stress doodle dump so you get to have it

[rocketspurs]

[ydotome]

Trafalgar D. Water Law (トラファルガー・D・ワーテル・ロー) - One Piece - Episode 1093 

[campaignagainstcliche]

[bby-deerling-deactivated2024070]

against the kitchen floor (law x reader nsfw)

you push law to his breaking point. he bends for you.

18+, mdni, nsfw wc: 2.1k masterlist || commissions (info)

cw: afab!reader, established relationship, toxic relationship dynamics, arguing, law is bad with feelings, ultimatums, angst with a happy ending (?), emotional roller coaster, make up sex, confessions, fingering, law has control issues, emotional manipulation, edging

tagging some law kissers: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @sanjisprincesswifey @willowhaze26 @risenwrites

Tension hangs low and thick in the air.  The early, dreamlike glow that illuminates the sky shortly before the dawn breaks is far too weak to break beneath the waves, leaving the inside of the submarine quiet and dark—as murky and clouded as his demeanor as he pours himself a cup of coffee in silence.  You eye him carefully, dancing gracefully along the line between staring intently and getting lost in the labyrinth of your own mind; the wheels were turning fast enough that Law could hear the cogs turning inside your head.  He knows.  He knows this conversation, the one that remains unspoken but hangs in the space between the two of you is imminent, though it doesn’t prevent him from attempting to avoid it.  Feigning normalcy, he pours a splash of cream into his mug, and more than a splash into yours, sliding it across the counter towards you.  

For a moment, there’s a respite from the painful tug on his heartstrings as a familiar sense of gratitude graces your features, though there’s a sad undertone in the smile you give him, as if this were the last time you’d be partaking in this daily ritual with him.  He was far from a fool—he had seen your bags partially packed in your room, and though the gift of a cup of coffee was nothing out of the ordinary, something deep in his heart prayed that the simple gesture was enough to salvage things.  Far from an ideal partner, Law was closed off, blunt, and stubborn, though he had thought you admired those qualities in him; however, here you were, on the verge of jumping ship into the cold depths of the unknown without so much as attempting to talk things out with him.  As he sips from his mug, he watches you closely with his intense, molten stare; your lips part once, twice, three times without a single word escaping them.  Vexed by your hesitation, he almost implores you to spit it out already, and bring your hidden woes out into the open so the two of you can fight about it, but he loses his nerve right as your voice breaks the silence.

“Do you love me?” you whisper numbly, all hint of emotion wiped from your face.  The timbre of your voice betrays your pain as it wobbles and warbles, and almost fades into the stale air of the submarine.

Hitting his eardrums sharply, your words pierce straight through the thin membrane and send needles of pain into his head.  He had attempted to prepare himself mentally for this conversation, but the reality crashing down on him like a violent, stormy wave is too much for him to handle, overwhelming him before his head even falls underneath the cool water.

“Of course I do.  Have I given you the impression that I don’t?” he says; it’s curt, tense, and straddling the line between dismissive and disinterested as Law makes a last-ditch effort to shut the conversation down before it begins.

“Could have fooled me.” you rasp out, nearly choking on the short phrase.  The tone that spills out of your throat says more than four simple words ever could, and Law knows full and well what you’re trying to tell him.  You’ve never told me that you love me.  You’ve been neglecting me.  You never open up to me. 

None of these sentiments were objectively untrue, but they anger Law nonetheless; his inner world was nearly entirely occupied by you, doubly so during long stretches underwater when a sense of stagnancy enveloped the Polar Tang, leaving the crew with nothing to do but float.  As he wakes, his first action is to pull you closer to his chest and place a soft kiss to the back of your head.  His time spent locked away in his office studying, drawing up plans, or organizing shifts for the crew is inefficient and takes far longer than it should on account of the visions of you dancing in his mind, distracting him from the dullness of necessary paperwork.  Each tick of the clock in the evening is an incessant countdown to the time left until he can pull you close under the comforting confines of his sheets, drifting out of consciousness with you safely tucked into his side.

But how were you supposed to know?  He never expresses those feelings, verbally or otherwise, and instead masks his affection for you with an unbreakable stony façade, concealing his feelings in an attempt to preserve his dignity.

He takes a while to speak, jaw clenching so hard he nearly hurts himself.  “You’re not leaving.” he says lowly, with authority, and no room for argument, placing the venting of your frustrations on the backburner; Law could address those later, behind closed doors when his overwhelming fear and trembling dies down, but he can’t lose you—not without losing his own mind in the process.

“I didn’t say anything about—” you start, attempting to steer the conversation back to its original course with no avail.

“I saw your bags.” he spits out, unable to mask the pain in his voice.  Your jaw snaps shut as your face burns red with the embarrassment of being found out as he continues.  “Were you even planning on telling me?  Or were you just going to slink off at the next port and disappear on me?”  The sheer concept of abandonment has his dark eyes brimming with more pain than you’d ever seen in them, his stare holding a compounded sense of loss and agony.

“Law, I don’t want to go, but—” you whisper, whiny and almost verging into a desperate wail.  His glare is dangerous and pins you in place, the edge of the counter digging into the flesh of your back.

“But what?” he hisses, venom and hurt coating his words as he cages you against the counter, arms on either side as he towers over you, puffing himself up in an attempt to plant your fleeing feet to the ground and make them stick.

“I can’t do this anymore if you keep me at arm’s length.” you say, voice wavering far more than you had intended it to; the words you had so carefully crafted in your head felt like daggers crawling up your throat, scratching the fleshy, mucus covered column to break skin along each stretch of their ascent.  The last thing you wanted to do was leave him, but you couldn’t go on any longer giving pieces of yourself to a man who wouldn’t—or couldn’t—reciprocate the sentiment.

You needed his heart to spill, leaving pooling blood around your feet as proof that he was alive and beating. 

As Law glares down at you, his grip on the counter causing his knuckles to turn a crisp white, he knows the time for bargaining for a lighter sentence had long since passed; it was either spew his guts for you to pick at like a vulture, or lose you to the soft roll of the tides.  And so, with a deep breath, he’s forced to tell you why saying those three little words is so difficult for him, how the last time he heard them before you came along was from Corazón’s lips, and how he replays his death in his head every time he hears the phrase I love you, Law.  He tells you, tears in his eyes, how he loved his parents, his sister, his neighbors and classmates, and that he fears that loving you—speaking it into existence—would condemn you to the same fate.

He tells you that he loves you, and that he has been loving you silently all this time.

It was the most emotion you had ever seen from Law in the many years you had known him, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and threatening to roll down the plane of his cheek.  His confessions were more than enough to sate your need for trust and vulnerability from him, and seeing him so rattled left you with nothing in your chest but the intense need to soothe him.  And so, your lips latch onto his, both of you murmuring a muffled I’m sorry into each other’s chapped and cracked mouths.  Law had never pressed himself to your body harder as he threads a hand through your hair, digging his nails into your scalp to pull you closer.  Coaxing your tongue to entwine with his by dragging gentle stripes along the wet muscle, he takes you, consuming your soul whole with each drag of his lips against yours.  He’s messy—sloppy and messier than he’s ever been as he pours himself into you, each twitch of his tongue another confession too fragile to speak aloud.

“You’re not fucking leaving me.” he growls, placing his knee between your legs, “Not now, not ever.”  Unable to temper his patience, his hand grasps harshly into your soft thigh, creeping upwards under your nightgown towards your core.

“I’m not—I love you, Law.” you whimper against him, allowing him turn the sounds dripping from your lips from devoted assurances to lewd mewls as he sinks a finger inside of you.  His cold skin shocks the warmth of your insides, doubly so when he adds another digit and curls both upwards into your sweet spot.

“I love you too.” he whispers back; the sentiment still feels alien, and in a sense terrifying as it falls from his lips, though the discomfort is well worth its weight in platinum if it means keeping you wrapped around his fingers, his waist, and his heart.  “Dripping wet for me—you needed this, didn’t you?” he murmurs, holding only the slightest bit of characteristic teasing in his voice, too mentally exhausted to do much besides act on instinct.

“Needed you.  I always need you, Law.” you mumble between gasps as the press of his fingers inside of you brings heat pooling to your cheeks.  Scissoring his fingers inside of you, he keeps you straddling the edge, a form of punishment for gaining control of him emotionally, enough to force him to divulge things he’d sworn to keep buried deep in his chest under heaps of cold, dense snow.

A heated whine settles in your throat as he slows down right before your precipice once more.  "Lemme come…” you plead, your fingernails digging into the groove of his waist as you cling to him.  Denying you the mercy you were expecting, he withdraws his fingers from you and pushes your shoulder down harshly, satisfied as he watches you sink to your knees, back dragging along the metal cupboards.  He drops to your level unceremoniously, silently coaxing you to lay down, flush against the floor as he pins you below him like a lowly piece of prey.  Latching his lips to yours again, he props himself up with one hand and lets the other roam, harshly grasping at your breasts, trailing down your sides and splaying out over your stomach, and finally settling between your legs, teasingly dragging along your slit, causing you to whine and grind against him.  Giving into the sweet song of your begging, he circles his thumb along your aching bud, slowly working you up; tongue buried deep in your mouth, he intends on getting you close but not too close, wanting to keep you panting and writhing beneath you for his own benefit for a while longer.  As you whine at the loss of contact against your clit, he undoes his zipper and lines himself up with you, slathering the head of his cock in the slick arousal that coats your folds and inner thighs.

The connection between you had been signed in consummating fluids and deep sighs hundreds of times over, but this is the first time that Law truly makes love to you.  He slides into you, keeping his lips firmly on yours, his mind swirling with intimacy he thought himself incapable of.  Full of newfound initiative to make you snap as soon as possible, his hand is quick to return to the needy, aching spot you need it most; his movements are practiced and hold precision honed over countless sessions tuning himself to your needs, but each touch is imbued with something novel, intoxicating, and foreign—as you turn red hot and flutter around him, Law is intent on showing you how much he loves you, sealing your promise to never leave him and using his flowing affections to keep you locked into that decision.

Law promises himself he’ll be better to you moving forward, that he will reassure you more, and take care of you in the same way you care for him, but in this moment, he places improvement on the backburner for a short while—all that mattered to him right now was you falling apart for him against the kitchen floor.

[kokuzi]

ロー

[attyrocious]

cooldown sketch. local emo dies of heatstroke

[attyrocious]

1/11(?) of anime law outfits

[transmasc-wizard]

i'm AWARE this is a stupid hill to die on, but like. trope vs theme vs cliché vs motif vs archetype MATTERS. it matters to Me and i will die on this hill no matter how much others decide it's pointless. words mean things

[transmasc-wizard]

trope: 1) the use of figurative language for artistic effect; includes allegories, analogies, hyperbole, & metaphors, among others. 2) commonly reoccurring literary devices, motifs, or clichés. Includes things like the medieval fantasy setting, the Dark Lord, enemies-to-lovers, and the Chosen One.

theme: the reoccurring idea or subject in a work of art. Death, life, rebirth, change, love, what it means to be human, the definition of family, the effects of war, etc.

cliché: an element of an artistic work that has been overused to the point of losing its original meaning or effect, even becoming annoying or irritating. (Most clichés are tropes but not all tropes are clichés.)

motif: a distinctive repeating feature or idea, such as the green light in The Great Gatsby. May overlap with tropes and is often used to further explore the theme.

archetype: a constantly-recurring symbol or motif; it refers to the recurrence of characters or ideas sharing similar traits throughout various, seemingly unrelated cases in classic storytelling. E.g. rags to riches, the wise old mentor. Again may overlap with tropes, clichés, and motifs, but they're not the exact same thing.

[kaizokuniichan]

Attention Part 4 - Beef

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Afab Reader (referred to as she/her) x Trafalgar Law

Summary: Law and Zoro finally face off in a slightly heated discussion about you

CW: Brief mentions of slavery and violence, slightly toxic male “Bro” like behavior. You are the prize after all.

Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 2.2k

MDNI. Even though this chapter does not contain any explicit content, the rest of the story does. Please respect this disclaimer.

I was originally going to present this chapter as a two-parter because I didn’t want to leave it as a cliffhanger, but the first part is completed and I’m still working on the second part and I wanted to finally release something for this story. I hope you’ll enjoy this little snippet and I will try to complete the next part soon. Happy Reading!

(Divider by @/cafekitsune and banner by @/eelnoise

Law couldn’t be more thrilled. Somehow, blessedly, you would be staying with him.

More simply, it would be you and the other remaining Strawhats on the journey to Wano, but the details of your failed rendezvous were irrelevant. For now he could at least continue enjoying your company.

Re-coordinating the plan was difficult, though having dealt with the Strawhat captain made Law more skilled at adapting to irritating deviations. His crew was a godsend for they were practiced in anticipating his needs before even being asked. Their reunion had filled him with the realization of how close he’d been to never seeing them again. Would they have forgiven him? Would they have even cared? Would they harbor any resentment for him abandoning them? It took great difficulty to prevent himself from falling down a rabbit hole of self-loathing, but it was combatted with his gratefulness for having such dedicated and devoted people in his life. He’d also internalized your guiding words which reminded him that there wouldn’t even be a dependable and trustworthy crew of his if there weren’t a great captain to lead them.

His mind and heart had been a jumbled mess on the days leading to Zou. A shard of his heart was being taken away, and he feared it would make the rest of him collapse in a way his own Devil Fruit wouldn’t be able to fix. He’d dreaded the moment he’d leave you behind—even more so when you’d clung to him, rendering him frozen with your unshed tears, a suffocating lump lodging in his throat. He’d never seen you look so small and defeated, shriveled as your vivacious essence was drained. Any doubts of your feelings for him were wiped clean when you’d whispered softly how guilty you felt for wanting to stay with him.

Despite your anguish over your blasphemous confession, a part of him— more mountainous than he cared to admit—was delighted that he’d somehow nestled himself within your heart. He’d kissed you so fiercely, pilfering the breath from your lungs, and uttered thankful praises against your lips for painting his world a little brighter—saturating it with your sweetness.

Now that your time together was extended, he had the luxury of hosting you within his domain. Almost daily he struggled with the task of remaining discreet and careful not to further exacerbate the brewing tension between you, him, and Zoro. Not so secretly Law wished the mossy-haired swordsman had joined the others in their rescue of their cook, though he soon realized how futile that would have been given Zoro and the Cook’s contentious relationship.

What was even more concerning was Zoro’s audacious hovering—the man never let you out of his sight. Evidently you and him had engaged in some sort of tryst and now he’d magnetized himself to you and was digging in his heels. Law had taken for granted the minimized scrutiny he’d had aboard the Sunny and how greatly it’d worked in his favor. Now back on the Polar Tang he was forced to maintain the veneer of a respectable host. Ultimately he found himself lying awake at night, wishing to carry you back to his quarters and lavish you with his mouth and body every second of every day it took to reach Wano.

The question now was: where would everyone sleep? How would they divvy up the common areas? The Polar Tang was quite large, but it was uncertain if it could comfortably house 8 guests. The easiest solution was to drag in the spare cots from the infirmary and send all of the men to the men’s quarters.

With strained indifference he’d sent you and Robin to stay with Ikkaku, whose keen eyes took notice of him lingering in the doorway as you settled in. Between her and Robin he felt far too exposed, but it was understood that they’d never mention anything about it. Not to him anyway.

As the sun dipped into the horizon amongst brushstrokes of apricot and magenta, the mighty sub made its descent, hurtling deep into the ocean’s depths. While the Heart Captain sat in his office a soft knock wrapped at his door.

“Hey Captain,” popped Bepo’s head from the doorway as Shachi squeezed past to join him, “that one Strawhat guy was looking for you earlier.”

Massaging his temples, Law prayed that no one else had tampered with anything else of importance.

“If it’s their shipwright tell him we’ll arrive at the next island in a few days’ time, so he can get the materials to fix that tank Long Nose-ya busted.”

Bepo scratched his head as Shachi struggled to hold in his snicker—he’d been complicit in pranking the sniper after all.

“No, it’s that green-haired swordsman who’s been wandering around all day and knocking things over with those swords of his. I think he’s lost but he won’t tell anyone where he’s trying to go.

He’s probably looking for you, Law thought to himself, remembering how you’d spent most of the day sleeping.

“Figures. Bring him and his astronomically pathetic sense of direction in here.”

“Who’re you calling pathetic,” came a grunt from the other side of the door before Bepo stepped aside.

“Actually Captain he’s right here.”

“Yes I see Bepo, thank you. You both can leave. And Shachi, stop encouraging the Strawhats from wreaking anymore havoc. We have too long of a journey together. We can’t afford anymore repairs.”

“Aye aye sir,” Shachi saluted, failing to wipe the shit-eating grin from his face as he ushered Bepo out of the room and closed the door.

Law and Zoro were finally alone, which had never actually happened before they’d arrived at Zou. Much to their surprise they’d formed a delicate alliance, one that stemmed from their disdain for the ludicrous mourning over Kanjuro’s crude drawing and their shared excitement for meeting a ninja. They’d become tentative acquaintances—save for the awkward chill that surged between them whenever you squeezed in to link your arms with theirs. Side-glancing each other over the top of your head, they reluctantly folded as you guided them along.

Zoro leaned against the desk a few steps from where Law sat, who frowned as the force of the other man’s weight knocked over his lamp.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking anything but.

“What is it that you want Zoro-ya.”

Taking a moment to answer, he ran his finger over the hilt of Wado Ichimonji.

“Where’s she sleeping tonight?”

Setting down his pen, Law swiveled around to face him.

“Somewhere you’ll never be able to find.”

The perilous edge in Zoro’s eye made him snort.

“Relax Hercules. She’s with Nico-ya in Ikkaku’s room.”

Blowing out a breath, Zoro shifted on his feet. “Surprised you didn’t drag her to your lair.”

“Are you saying I’m Hades?”

The genuine befuddlement crossing Zoro’s face prompted Law to trudge neatly along.

“I might’ve thought about it but i figured it would be inappropriate to grant her the privilege in front of everyone.”

Zoro smirked and Law relaxed, leaning back in his seat.

“I would if I could though.”

Zoro glanced aside to the disorganized pile of books stacked in a corner.

“Everyone knows you know. Even your crew.”

“I know.” Law laid his hands over his stomach, drumming his fingers. “But I can at least maintain the illusion that we’re all keeping it professional.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m lookin grab her right now and take her to that...observation aquarium-thingy she likes so much. Makes for a very romantic setting.”

With a scoff Law turned back to his desk. “Good luck finding it.”

A bark of laughter whisked the tension aside as Zoro removed his katanas to lean them next to him against the desk. Carding a hand through his hair he turned to face Law properly.

“I can see why she likes you so much.”

Law’s brow twitched as he was unable to tamp down his confusion.

“She likes people who give it to her straight. Bet you’ve said things to her that most people would consider rude.”

He was momentarily stage-hooked to his first encounter with you and smiled.

“One day I basically told her she looked like shit. Like she hadn’t slept for a week.”

“I see,” Zoro replied, concealing his laugh with a fist over his mouth. “Did she...ever tell you why she has so much trouble sleeping?”

Of course you had. It’d been one of the very first offerings of yourself you’d entrusted him with.

“Almost every night for weeks on end, without even breaks sometimes, they forced me to participate in those underground fighting rings under the threat of being sold as a slave to a Celestial Dragon. All thanks to my shitty parent’s debts. And ever since, I’ve been like a prisoner in my own mind. I don’t think you realize how much you’ve helped me.”

“Yeah, she told me.”

Zoro scratched his jaw.

“She still has those nightmares you know, even now. But I imagine you’ve provided the perfect late-night distraction for her.”

Law’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I thought she was with you during all of those late nights. You both seem so close after all.”

“Well. Shit,” Zoro shook his head, “I guess we were both missing our opportunity.”

“I guess we were,” Law affirmed with a wry smile.

A blanket of comfortable silence settled before Law turned back to re-open his book.

“Looks like I’ll have to work harder to find a way to steal her away.”

Zoro’s head snapped back to him, eye gleaming with careful warning.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Law’s face gave away nothing as he flipped the pages of his book.

“You sure? I can be very convincing. My crew seems to like her already. I’m sure she’d fit right in.”

“She’s not the type to abandon us just because she fell a little for your pretty boy charms,” Zoro muttered, leaning closer.

“Well it seems your Mr. Cool act hasn’t been enough to keep her full attention, so you never know.”

Zoro’s mouth curled in a taunting sneer.

“I definitely had her attention a few weeks ago in our kitchen. And I was also smart enough not to cut it short by the way.”

Law snapped his book shut, bristling as he stood up.

“She told you about that?”

“Not directly. I could just tell. She said it was good though.”

His body eased with relief. He’d been worried he hadn’t given you enough during your last encounter. It was good to know you’d at least liked it. He’d give you so much more if you let him.

“Well luckily I have ways of bringing her to me discreetly, if she wishes. And we’ll have plenty of privacy for me to service her properly.”

Zoro leaned closer, not quite touching his nose to Law’s but close enough to feel the heat from his body.

“Don’t think it’s gonna be that easy to take her just because you made her cum.”

Law countered with unwavering eyes, “I don’t know if you’re trying to offend me Zoro-ya, but this thing between us is much deeper than just satisfying her sexually, and I think you’re underestimating that.”

“I’m not underestimating shit. That’s why I’m telling you. I won’t back off, and I’m guessing you’re not either, so this ain’t personal but I’ll fight you for her if I have to.

Their aggressions squared off until Zoro shifted back to tuck his katanas safely back into his haramaki.

“You’re lucky you’re too noble of a guy to play around with her heart, otherwise I’d have to slice you up just for wasting her time.”

Law remained stood at his desk, arms folded.

“And I know you’re too honorable of a man to sacrifice the greater good of our alliance for some non-beef with me. It’s nothing personal on my end either.”

Fully finished with the conversation, Law sighed and held out his hand. “I’m sending you back to the men’s quarters now since I do not trust you to find it on your own.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can-“ but his reply was cut short as he was teleported out of the room, replaced with a dirty sock that flopped to the floor.

Collapsing back into his chair, he threaded his fingers behind his head. Considering Zoro’s accusation he now considered actually teleporting himself to Ikkaku’s room and stealing you away. Before he could talk himself out of it he focused on a discarded hairbrush and landed softly on the carpet. You were still sound asleep in your bunk, tightly wrapped in your blankets. As he approached your bed he considered an item inconspicuous enough to swap himself with without being too obvious that his presence had been the reason for your absence.

Settling on a pen, he bundled you up in his arms and swiftly warped back to his room, setting you down on the bed just as your eyes cracked open. His heart fluttered as you gave him a dreamy smile.

“I was wondering when I was going to see you.”

[lavianim]

[tvfanatic97-2]

My favourite kind of fics to read and to write

[coldfeetonthekitchenfloor]

So for over a month and a half I’ve been told in my Creative writing MA class that my writing is too poetic and abstract to work in the form of a novel and that I need to simplify my meanings and sentences. I did as I was told and lost all interest in writing if I have to write in the same style that every other novelist does. Today I received this note from a classmate and didn’t realise how much I needed to hear it. Don’t change your art just because other people don’t get it. Don’t change your style to fit in with everyone else. It’s your story not theirs.

[elfspectations]

This post is 4 years old, but for anyone who needs to hear it I want to tack on the advice my Creative Writing professor told the class I was in: "Not everyone is going to get what you're trying to do. So a lot of the advice your classmates write on your papers might feel Wrong to you. If it feels Wrong and you don't think they understand your story, don't take their advice because they are not your audience."

Sounds like the initial advice for OP to tone down her natural voice was incorrect, but thankfully one of her classmates that was part of the audience wants to hear that voice.

[rocketspurs]

[depsidase]

[amazinglyspicy]

DONT USE THE PIRATE BAY PLEASEEEE I BEG YOU.

Use 1337x.to rarbg or rutracker, highly moderated public torrent trackers, because Pirate Bay has long been shut down, unmoderated, and cloned by some shady actors AND use Mullvad VPN (or any other vpn but mullvad is the best definitely) to protect your ip address while you torrent, bind it to qbittorrent and do not use utorrent anymore either because it is littered with adware.

OR if you don’t want to pay for a VPN, use direct download or streaming sites. Please y’all just take one pass through on the r/piracy or r/freemediaheckyeah mega threads to find whatever you want for free and also not infect your computer with Trojan viruses.

[clorofolle]

^^^ yes!!! Thank you sm.

If any of those terms made you go ????? and you think pirating must be So Hard, I wrote a verbose but easy to follow guide a while back for total beginners!

Pinning this since I genuinely think Piracy is a great skill to have and I want to share it with anyone who'd like to see it Okay so! You n

[madametamma]

pirate safely friends