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inkskinned · 7 months

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for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

#wholesome #happy halloween #writeblr #just something to maybe warm ur heart in these times #my parents also usually let me take nov 1st off #this is the first year in like 20 years im not taking it off bc it became like a family holiday #i regret not taking it off but alas. capitalism.

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artificialalienn · 8 months

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My life is like a video game! Trying hard to beat the stage, all while I am still collecting coins ;9!!

#art #artist #my art #fanart #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc fanart #tadc caine #tadc kinger #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #the amazing digital circus fanart

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fastcardotmp3 · 8 months

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future!steddie; long haul trucker Eddie; firefighter Steve ~1k words

It makes sense to Eddie, an obvious out when his world's gone to shit and he has to get away, that his escape route from Indiana is the same job his uncle left to settle down there and raise a kid with nowhere else to go.

Driving long haul means there's no one looking that close at a face that made it to the national news during his week on the run. It means living on the move, never stopping long enough to get stuck anywhere.

It means freedom.

It means loneliness.

He calls Wayne twice a week, coins in pay phones at rest stops while he's waiting for his hair to dry post-public shower, and that's enough for him.

Wayne has always been enough for him, and it would be hurtful to suggest otherwise; it would be disrespectful to the life Wayne helped him build, keeps helping him build with all that faith that had him never doubting an innocence questioned by everyone else in that God-forsaken town.

Twice a week. It's the only phone number he knows by heart.

Twice a week for weeks and then months and then years, driving cross-country and back again, it's freedom. He keeps telling himself it's freedom, that it's good, that he doesn't need anything more than that.

But driving long haul means there's a lot of time for thinking.

It means a lot of time for collecting thoughts up together and creating new meaning entirely.

It means that by the time he's twenty-one and twenty-five and thirty that he has tape after tape after tape where he's collected those thoughts aloud in the rumbling loud silence of an overnight drive.

Thoughts like who would I be if I'd stuck around? and thoughts like will they understand that this time running saved my life? and thoughts like I miss them, am I allowed to miss them, am I allowed to love them without ever really knowing them?

It means that when he stops for all but the first time in ten years, coming home to Wayne to find that Forest Hills is home to a couple more familiar faces than he expected, there's space for his words. His endless, looping thoughts.

Steve's got his own trailer these days, brings in Wayne's mail for him on the mornings he comes home from the night shift at the fire station and stays for coffee.

Steve's there across the way when Eddie drives up in a new-used flatbed truck he'd bought with his final paycheck on the day he hung up his hat and decided he'd been gone long enough.

Steve's there in stories Wayne only begins telling now that Eddie is home, endless retellings of a brand-new man who became a friend during a time when the name Munson was still a dangerous thing to carry.

Steve's there when Eddie starts transcribing all his dictated notes into something resembling narrative and character and prose and Eddie doesn't know the guy who jumped headfirst into another dimension, hasn't spoken to him since that week that forced Eddie to flee in the first place, but maybe he doesn't need to have those years under his belt.

Maybe it doesn't matter if Eddie knows a nineteen-year-old Steve Harrington, because he knows the twenty-nine-year-old one starting a matter of hours after he comes crawling back home, knows this grown and steady one who looked after Wayne when Eddie had to leave.

This Steve isn't stuck despite still living in the town that tried to kill him. He doesn't seem lost or without purpose.

He lives a simple life, working at the Hawkins FD and feeding stray dogs with the bowls he leaves out beside his porch. Robin comes and goes, seemingly dating her way through the Midwest's entire sapphic population and sleeping on Steve's couch in between live-in girlfriends.

There are old friends on the phone at near constant intervals in Steve's home, and there's that phone being pressed to Eddie's ear without giving him the chance to be terrified about what Erica or Dustin or Max might say to the guy who hasn't allowed anyone but Wayne access to him for a decade, what he might say back after so many years without proper human socialization.

Eddie has been moving for so long, stayed moving through the bulk of his acceptance of everything that happened to him, but there's a different sort of quiet here than what he found on the road, stillness, amongst the casual chaos.

There's similarities to life on his rig, sure, a certain routine to the comings and goings, only Eddie isn't hiding anymore and he's not thumbing through the same staticky stations anymore and he's not lonely anymore.

He doesn't know how to sit still yet, not really, but he stays up all night handwriting poetry on paper he once spoke onto tape on the porch of his uncle's trailer and sometimes when Steve gets home after dark, he'll sit with him.

He'll eat his dinner still in uniform and listen to the scratch of Eddie's pen and Eddie doesn't know him, Steve Harrington, but he's getting to know his neighbor Steve.

Ten years down the line and he's becoming solid right there in front of Eddie's eyes, becoming real, becoming something that can't possibly fit onto the tapes filled with nonsense and insights alike.

"You're never what I think you're going to be," Eddie admits to him one morning over coffee before Wayne or Robin have risen, before the phone has begun to ring, before the world wakes up and brings Eddie's life along with it, ready or not.

Steve smiles at him, amused and curious and cocky in the way he responds, "you're exactly who Wayne said you are."

It's an admission all its own, that Steve has thought about Eddie, spoken about him, in the time they've spent apart, even if it was only because he'd dared to keep Wayne Munson's company.

It's still an admission though, that in his absence, in his loneliness out on the road, Eddie wasn't forgotten by the watercolor skies over Hawkins, Indiana.

"Yeah?" Eddie breathes in those very skies, "and what did Wayne say I'd be?"

Ten years down the line and suddenly it makes sense to Eddie.

It makes sense in the morning dew on the lawn; it makes sense in the too-strong Harrington-brewed coffee; it makes sense in the wheels of his truck on a road that does end, eventually, and it makes sense in the collected thoughts and feelings, fears and dreams that he had to go away to decipher.

The freedom was in leaving, sure, but this? The coming home to Wayne and this porch and the man who lives across the way?

"Stick around, Munson," Steve Harrington dares on a morning like any other, "and maybe I'll just tell you."

Well. As it turns out, this might be the thing that saves him.

#dot post #dot fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #went looking for an incomplete draft to work the 'ole writing brain again and found a much shorter version of this #and now it's finished and yours!

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iloveyouinred · 10 months

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Yandere!Kaveh x Broken Heart!Reader

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, slight angst at the start, kidnapping, drugging, noncon, creampie, reader is being tied, reader hasn't go through the formal divorce setting but.. nothing holding you back, etc.

𓇬♡ | Word Count: 1.2K

You thought, you won't move away from him for the longest time. Your husband is the prettiest man you know. You were a pair since childhood, and became one in highschool. It was a long happy relationship. Although all that time you spend with him, he shares it with his side bitch too. The moment you found him fucking that blonde hair girl, you don't say a thing. Not even a gasp escapes your mouth as the unrealistic view of your perfect match, your sweet husband, too busy fucking other woman to realize his wife standing at the door, watching them with face as white as ghost.

For the first time since you love him, you feel a crack in your heart. It grows uncontrollably fast, leaving a hollow space in your chest. You cried for hours on the fastest flight that you booked randomly to Sumeru.

"At time like this, a glass of wine always helps." Is what he always said everytime one of you meets any stalemate in the workplace. Teasing your dislike of its bitter taste. Yet you don't complain when he takes you to the bar, because it was his favourite. You still can't understand why men love this bitter drink. You take another sip before gulping down the second glass, trying to understand the reason behind his betrayal as you savour the bitter liquid.

"I hope I die in my sleep." You said with a smile while throwing a blank gaze at the surface of the red liquid.

"Ah, I really hope you don't. I was hoping to familiarize myself with you." A man that just sat down beside you said that in a sad tone, as he put a glass of pink cocktail on the table in front of you. Half of his blonde hair pinned back with a pretty blue feather adorning his hair, with eyes curved down hiding his pair or scarlet orb. You smile ironically. If you were not in this state you might have been captivated by his charming face. Yet here you are.. unable to return the same enthusiasm he shared with you. You take the glass he offers, and chug it down in one take. He watches as the liquid goes down your throat, still with his smile. The stranger that offered drinks to you was seriously great at embracing your melancholy. You would say he is the greatest empath that can even mourn with you at your pet's funeral. While you are busy talking about this and that with him, not keeping count of how many glasses of wine you have consumed. By the time midnight falls, you were already helplessly drunk by how much alcohol was in your system.

"I am Kaveh by the way, can I have your name?" He asks while guiding you to the bar entrance, after putting bags of coins at tables as he talk about something to the bartender.

"...Where are we going?" Your indistinct speech makes it hard to understand what you were saying. He chuckled, seeing how drunk you were. A frown formed on your face upon noticing your blurry sight. Your eyes were unable to focus, but you didn't miss the way his smile widened, almost ecstatic. Yet your eyelid weighs down on you as he sweeps you off your feet, carrying you in his hand.

"You will make a great decoration." He states as you succumb to unbearable drowsiness.

Kaveh loves to decorate his and Alhaitham's home. Pretty decorations always make the place look better. He collected many beautiful vases, paintings, even a pretty little trinket as he travelled. But none of it beats what he found at the tavern last night. A beautiful girl, looking up at him while sucking his cock. Your hand tied behind your back, body bound by rope and pink ribbons. Your sight is unfocused, unaware of what is happening. The last thing you remember is the strange liquid he forced you to take this morning, when you wake up fully naked on his bed. Your brain can not digest the view of your captor in front of you using your mouth to relieve his hard cock.

Your mind feels clouded as your nose stuff with his smell. Heat forming on your lower abandonment. You can feel your own wetness making a mess on your thigh. He cursed as he grabbed your hair, moving your head to bobbed down around his length deeper. You choked back a moan, letting out a muffled sound which made him throw his head to the back. He trembles as the pleasure wash over him. You feel the warm liquid flow down your throat, unable to throw up as he shove his length deep in there. You cough frantically as he pulls out, letting you catch a breath with face flaming red and jaw sore by how long he fuck your mouth.

"Perfect." He cooed at your teary face. His hand cupping your cheek.

You feel him lifting up your stranded body to the couch with your face down on the soft surface, ass facing him from this angle. Kaveh can't help but rub his fingers against your clit, earning a choked moan from you. Two fingers slid easily in your cunt and he happily hummed at how wet you were. He licks his finger that was glistening with your cum while positioning his cock to kiss your pussy lips. He slid it a few times before entering your hole slowly. You can hear him groaning in your ear, whispering curses at the way your hole tightens around his length. His body pressed down on your back as he shoved his length in your gummy walls. Moans slip off your lips as he keeps on hitting the deep spots inside you. Soon stars clouding your sight as your body trembled, cumming just from a few snap of his hips into yours.

It might be the drug that makes your body hopelessly chasing for pleasure, as you start meeting his thrust. He slapped your ass hard enough to leave a red imprint. Mumbling something about what a whore you are, moving your hips for a stranger. Still his thrust grows faster and deeper each second you helplessly moan under him, until he spills his cum in you. Warm liquid pooled under your leg while he turned your body to face him, giving you a deep passionate kiss as he sucked your tongue. Your eyes roll back as you feel he is inside you again. Eagerly thrusting his cum back into your hole. You don't remember how many times you came, but by the time he reach his third climax you were already too fuck out to conherent a proper word. He clicked his tongue at the mess he made. You won't realize he was gone for a second to grab some stuff, if not by the feeling of a warm towel wiping your body.

"I really want to give you a bath.. but Alhaitham will be home soon." Kaveh said while brushing your hair and giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You don't understand what he is saying though, he keeps on rambling while knowing that.

"Be on your best behaviour okay?" He tied the ribbon in your hair and placed you on the couch, head down with ass facing the house entrance. Your body is still trembling. Your mind was filled with the feeling of Kaveh's warm cum in your womb that slowly seeped out, dripping down the couch. Unaware of the sound of the door opening.

Part 2| Part 3

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lotus-pear · 2 months

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Can we stop acting like dazai was the devil. Like yes he did bad things but he was a child. He was 15 alone and in the mafia where althe was told to do was bad things. ALL dazai knew how to do is lie and deceive because it what he's always had to do.it's self preservation. Like??? When will people realize dazai wasn't a monster and was justa child brought up in an Unsafe and abusive environment. Behaviors are learned your aren't born with them. Dazai was a suicidal child just trying to survive all'he knew was manipulation and Iying because that's all he was taught. He abused akutagawa because that's all he was taught. And as he got older it's all he knows how to do. Obviously he's gotten better but he's still morally grey. And that's ok but it's not enough to call him a monster. hes trying so so hard to change, and even if he may not realise it or cling guiltily to his past, the entire prison arc shows how much effort hes put in to become a better person it isnt easy, growing up exposed to death/violence resulting in empathy and apathy issues, all while battling an emptiness inside thats slowly eating up ones will to live. hes genuinely trying to recover from that period of his life, and i cannot express how proud i am solely because of that. hes finally found a healthy environment, a family, and he deserves it along with so much more. he may be deemed as a “monster“ in the past, that cannot be erased, but he hates that part about himself too. being in the good or bad used to make no difference to him, but i strongly believe it does hate that part of him. Dazai slander are fún and everything - BUT people seem to not get his character right. No, he's not an edgy boy. He genuinely wants to change for the best to make Oda proud, 'BUT HE ABUSED AKUTAGAWA’ , yeah, Akutagawa abused Kyoka and nobody is talking about how its litterally GENERATIONAL TRAUMA. Dazal was never raised correctly, he got raised by Mori and used by him to make him his right hand, maybe because of his ability, or he saw potential in him. He never fell parental Love nor being special to Someone except for Oda. "He LEFT Chuuya!!!“ ok and? Chuuya doesn't need him to live: Dazai LITTERALLY SAW PEOPLE GETTING KILLED/KILLING THEM ON THE DAILEY (AND HE WITNISSED ODAS DEATH - THE ONLY PERSON THAT MADE HIM WANT TO CHANGE.) his eyes at the age of 14, and Mori made him live in a shipping container. Obviously he is not gonna feel human after all this.

And about him and chuuya - the thing is they DO CARE ABOUT EACHOTHER. but nobody seems to care about chuuya other than the fact hes hot asf anf the fact that he is ’super mega gay for dazai 🥺🥺🥺’ because are we reading/watching the same series???? There’s SO MUCH to his character too!!!! But all everyone talks about with him is with dazai, chuuyas character is CRAZY WELL WRITTEN and everyone dumbs it down to ‘he’s an angry short boy with a god inside him and he’s mega gay for dazai and he’s also really hot’ like no - stfu he’s not actually super hot headed and it’s CANNON he’s usually pretty calm and collected. On the other side of the coin is that dazai DOES care about him - in Stormbringer ; Dazai literally willing gave Chuuya an option to either use corruption on Verlaine when he used his true form or to retreat and not do it, which gave a sense of Dazai giving Chuuya the choice to do what he wants without forcing him to, and the fact that when Chuuya used corruption, he was being injured badly to the point where Abahabaki was going to destroy Chuuya which FREAKED DAZAI OUT , and the fact that Dazai certainly believes that Chuuya is human shows that Dazai does care about Chuuya in certain ways without showing due to afraid of losing someone he cares about. and In age 15 Dazai, was willing to help Chuuya to find Abahabaki and defeat Rimbaud, along with stormbringer with him helping Chuuya to find out if he's human or not and to defeat Verlaine.

Ty for reading my rant 💞💞💞💞

i can't tell if this is attacking me or just a rant in general but anyway YESSSSS I 100% AGREE YOU ATE W THAT ANALYSIS BRIAR‼️‼️

#everybody who mischaracterizes dazai over the stupidest shit read this Right Now #lotus’s asks

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clover-blossom · 6 months

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*SNOWBAIRD* WIPS I AM LOVING

Invisible String by ravenpuff1956

Lucy sucks in a tight breath. She never expected to be dragged back. She didn’t think the Capitol wanted anything to do with her now that she’d won their little game.

Twelve Years by wertman25

Twelve years have passed since Lucy Gray Baird left Coriolanus Snow in the woods. Since then, she had remained a ghost while Coriolanus rose to power in the Capitol… but what happens when Lucy Gray returns and the two lovers meet again?

Other Side of the Coin by monkiseemonkido

AU where Lucy Gray and Snow run off together and make it to District 13. Snow is still his power hungry, ambitious self, but going back to the Capitol is not an option anymore. Especially once he realizes the truth about District 13 and what happened to his family fortune.

To Where She Flew by madzdolin

When another rebellion comes sooner than anticipated, young Coriolanus Snow finds himself stranded in District 11 after a series of unfortunate events. While the stakes continue to rise in the world around him, Coriolanus finds himself faced with his own internal conflict when he encounters a hauntingly familiar face from his past- only to discover that she has absolutely no recollection of who he is.

The Ballad of Snow (Echoes of a Bird's Song) by fourteentrout

Vignettes of Snow’s life through his rise to (and fall from) power, and the memories that corner him in his moments of least control.

I am Singing Now While Rome Burns by southslates

In which Lucy Gray stays in the Capitol after the Games.

As the Driven Snow by Vacantcing

She comes to him at the best and worst of times, his little songbird. Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray through the cycle of the seasons.

How Coriolanus Snow Learned Compassion by cliffhangerqueen

A collection of emotions Lucy Gray taught Coriolanus Snow through her journey of the Hunger Games, and his fall of villainy in an alternative universe when Snow gets away with his lies, only to morph into something that resembled good at Lucy Gray's expense.

A Bird in the Hand by horrormoviebarbie

Coriolanus Snow and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Redemption Arc

Songbirds, Snakes and Wedding Rings by celestscrystal

In which Coriolanus was never sent to district 12 and instead got away with a slap on the wrist. However, Lucy Gray would not be granted the same fate. In order to save her, Coriolanus marries her. Clashes ensue in a tale of enemies, passion, and lovers.

Blood of my Blood by loveshazel

A deep-dive and rewrite of TBOSAS that answers the question of what if Coriolanus's parents both lived to raise him? And what if that meant a worse fate for any and all involved...

All Your Wasteland Flowers by allbridgesburn

Lucy Gray Baird survives Coriolanus Snow. However, she's not the only one.

The Planet of Love by southslates

In which Coriolanus Snow never kills the Mayor's daughter, Sejanus Plinth dies of his own volition and officer training is moved to District Twelve.

What are you reading and loving?

#snowbaird #tbosas #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray #lucy gray x coriolanus #fix it au #snowbaird fanfic #snowbaird fic #coryo x lucy gray #god bless fic writers

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nights-at-crystarium · 2 months

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on authenticity

My mood in the recent months keeps going from bad to worse. Today I randomly fell into the rabbit hole of checking out other patreon artists, which always grounds me in reality and cheers me up, perhaps in a weird way. Essay incoming \o/

Authenticity is a blob of a word that sounds almost pretentious nowadays. It gets sneered at. You either sell your soul, or you don't earn with your art.

What's authentic, being true to yourself, will vary from person to person. It's like a sliding scale of suffering that you will tolerate in exchange for a coin, while convincing yourself that you have fun.

The harsh truth of modern world is that if your art pays for your living, you've already reached success, no matter how you may feel about the type of content you actually make for that money. Insert the meme furry nsfw art here. Or not furry. Or even sfw, but comms, lots of comms every month. Or merch. Anything that sells. Products first, art second.

Marrying passion and profession is virtually impossible, yet I'm doing it, only thanks to your support. I'm acutely aware that, even as I choose to be "real" and talk about an artist's money-making in a raw way, it's still patreon talk, and yes, I'll plug the link as well, so technically this entire post is an ad *fingerguns*

I just feel so privileged being able to create whatever the fuck I want, literally, I take no comms/requests/guidance on what and how should I draw/write, I post experimental, sometimes provocative stuff, and still make enough to survive. This sole fact should get me through the day, whatever other struggles I may be facing currently (I am. I don't wanna talk about it rn, instead I distract myself with this text), I should always remember the unique place in life I managed to carve for myself.

There are madmen (gender-neutral) who toss $10-20 at me every month. The majority "only" pledges $1, the notorious tier that gets treated as a tip jar with no rewards by many other creators. All of my rewards are the same at $1 and $20 (save for the one-time digital artbook download at $10, just to be perfectly clear), it's a conscious choice and a risk I continue taking because it's how I am. I used to split rewards between tiers in the past, before xiv, and it was a lot of busy work while it made me treat my art less as art and more as product. This pic goes into the cheap box, this pic goes into the expensive box. Every month. It's. Definitely not for every artist.

Logistic hell of splitting and delivering rewards, different posts with less comments per post, also my discord roles/channels would have to be split, nowadays it's just patron, whether you give me $1 or $20, there's no visual disparity, you're hanging out in the same cool kids' club, and collectively making happy noises on Fragments Fridays.

Could I be making more money if I got rid of the $1 tier? Yeah. But, mercifully, after 2 years I don't need to. I legit make enough currently, my only worry is to keep what I have. Patrons don't stay forever, 2-5 people would leave every month, about the same number would join (hence my patreon ads, I need to keep people reminded of it, even if it makes me feel guilty every damn time). I did Research (tm) in the past to find out that my "bleeding" numbers are below average, i.e. it's good, people generally tend to stick around.

I put a lot of emphasis on the $1 because I'm kinda proud of what I managed to accomplish while staying self-detrimentally humble. Literally doing an impossible thing in a world that keeps burning down. So yeah if you've been feeling bad for only giving me $1, what matters is that there's enough $1s to make a difference. Together you're creating a phenomenon, and you should be proud.

There are many stupid little principles, hills that I'll die on, that make up my authenticity. I chose to speak of it here and now in order to sorta sell myself, so it feels hypocritical x'D But if I don't shine a spotlight on this, who will. I'm old and jaded and increasingly terrified of how insincere the internet's becoming. Everything's fake, sugarcoated, polished for sale. My art's always been a scream of defiance against all that, now that I'm more or less established, I wanna scream louder. Thanks for hearing my screams. You can scream with me too if you want.

#personal #text post #nextlvl rambles

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jucyfruit · 26 days

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On New Year’s Eve, during a house party at her home in Richmond, Virginia, Lucy Dacus had her fortune told. She thought why not. On a personal level, 2017 had been a wretched year – a steady conveyor belt delivering the 22-year-old bad news.

“This girl, who I didn’t even know, came to the party and gave me this year-long reading,” she explains. “Month-by-month it was so specific. So far, it’s kind of lined up.”

In the past Dacus has been sceptical about the prophetic powers of the tarot card deck, and was taught that the pentacles (coins) were a symbol of Satan. “It’s hard to look to the future and see nothing, to know nothing,” she muses. “I still don’t know what’s going to happen, but having something to have your mind bounce off is nice. That’s why I like tarot. It gives you something to reflect on.”

It’s all part of a fresh way of thinking for Dacus, a new “mood of just trying to be open to new things.” For so many reasons the past year has been one Lucy Dacus is keen to put behind her. “I guess I could just list things,” she says laughing, but not joking. To begin, some of her close family suffered health problems, compounded by her own serious issues including a bout of appendicitis that forced her to have surgery. She was attempting to buy a house for the first time, a process that proved “trying”. Three of her tours got cancelled.

“It was a little bit miserable,” says Dacus, sitting in an east London cafe. “Towards the end of the year, I just had to laugh… Like, come on!”

Interwoven with these practical challenges she was having to navigate something much more troubling. “I got out of a relationship in 2016, which I was waking up from in 2017 – realising that it was abusive,” she begins. “Letting myself say that, it took many months to come out of the numbness… to stop being brainwashed. So, that’s all been a growth. It’s ended up being positive, but it is difficult wondering how I let that be a part of my life for so long.”

Deepening the ordeal, still, this year of personal upheaval was set to the backdrop of Trump’s first 12 months in office. A vociferous supporter of Bernie Sanders through the 2016 election campaign, Dacus is a passionate advocate for equal rights, attending marches and collecting donations for community organisations at her shows. To have Trump sat in the White House representing her country, she says, felt – feels – “horrible”. “It’s just absurd and I feel like I’m in an alternate universe,” she says. “It’s really hard maintaining hope.

“Coming to Europe I’m embarrassed to be an American sometimes, but then I just have to hope that people know that I am not part of Trump. I’ve thought about wearing shirts at the airport – just like ‘not my president’. In little ways I just want to assert that opinion.”

And then there were the disturbing revelations surrounding Harvey Weinstein (and subsequently many other men) revealed in Autumn 2017, that opened out into a global conversation around the abuse and harassment of women.

“It’s been nice coming out of that really terrible relationship during a time when women are speaking up more. It feels like I’m allowed to say these things now,” says Dacus, crediting the #MeToo movement. “All these horrible, heartbreaking stories of women being mistreated are at the forefront but the solace that people are doing what they need in order to find closure and help each other prevent that happening ever again. For one of the first times I’ve been noticing male friends of mine actually examining their past behaviours.”

While there are some early shoots of positivity, the truth is, the culmination of all of these factors left the songwriter dealing with anxiety for the first time. “2017 was a new state of mind for me – and not really in the best way.”

Lucy Dacus was raised in Richmond, Virginia, about two hours south of Washington D.C. on the east coast. It’s a place sometimes described as “the biggest small town left in America.” The family home was in the rural suburbs and she travelled into the city to go to high school. “It’s hard to tell you in one answer how my whole childhood was,” she says. “It’s a large variety of things. Overall, I’m coming out with my thumbs up.”

In her household music was always there. Her mother is a piano teacher, as was her grandmother. Picking up songwriting was never a big deal, like a second language that was spoken around the house. “That’s how music is – like, it’s just part of my life,” she recalls.

Yet the dream of being a professional artist seemed almost so unattainable that it was invisible. In her late teens, Dacus went to college to study film but dropped out, primarily because she’d end up saddled with huge debt. “That, paired with the feeling of being misunderstood in my programme,” she confirms. “I just didn’t have a lot of like minds in my classes.”

That prompted a move back to Virginia where she took a job in a photography lab developing kids’ cheesy school photos. She’d been writing songs in her spare time and gathered nine of the 30-or-so she had together when her friend Jacob Blizard (now her touring guitarist) asked her to record them for his school project. Her 2016 debut album, ‘No Burden’, was made in one day in Nashville. Blizard passed school, and that album received rave reviews. NPR called it “vulnerable”, while Pitchfork said it was an “uncommonly warm indie rock record”. As a result, 20 different record labels reportedly scrabbled to sign Dacus. She settled on Matador, and began to prepare for what should have been a joyful 2017.

The first time Dacus remembers assuming the role of historian she was seven or eight-years-old. She was writing in her journal – and she smiles now recalling her first entry. It complained about how the babysitter spent the whole evening on the phone to her boyfriend. “There’s a point where I realise I’m journaling and so I stop and go, ‘I should probably introduce myself… I’m Lucy’” she laughs, remembering it clearly. “It’s really cute.”

More than a dozen notebooks, and many years later, she still keeps a diary now. Sometimes she writes every day, other times, weeks go by and then she fills 20 pages. Occasionally she flicks open an old one to either “laugh or cringe” at her younger self.

‘Historian’, then, isn’t just the title of her latest album, but also the way she thinks of herself. A chronicler, of her own experiences, but also those around her. Those pages aren’t just a document of a growing maturity, but also a therapeutic habit that helps make sense of many life events, including that recent damaging relationship. “Seeing that it had been broken for the whole time but that I was just oblivious to it, [reading about] it helps to accept that things didn’t change,” she says. “I just saw it for what it was finally, and so perspective is good.”

Those handwritten journals are sacred, which is why, when her tenth one was stolen on tour a few years ago along with a bag of possessions, it was the notebook she replaced first.

The album itself is a recent history – a narrative burrowing through those myriad dark times. Dacus knew that she wanted it to form a complete story, and wrote the track list before some of the songs. “It’s an arc” she says, that begins in a “relatable place” with the only break-up song she’s ever written (‘Night Shift’) that subsequently delves “deeper into darkness.”

“Then the subject matter gets a little more intense,” she tells me, “– going through identity crises, or loss of home, or loss of faith, loss of a loved one, loss of your life. I feel like I’m pulling people into an uncomfortable space.” She pauses. “There’s then a change where hopefully I’m turning on a light and saying, ‘Yes, all of that exists, but it’s a foil to joy.’”

It is an extraordinary piece of work. Musically it’s a colossal step up, reminiscent of recent albums by Mitski (‘Puberty 2’), Angel Olsen (‘My Woman’) and labelmate Julien Baker (‘Turn out the Lights’). The subject matter is heavy, but it’s never a dreary listen. In fact, it’s charming, funny even – like a brave smile emerging through a curtain of tears. And Dacus has a gift for lyric writing; like the eloquent way she pays tribute to the humility shown by her dying grandmother on ‘Pillar of Truth’. From first to final note it’s evocative and powerful. “The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit I had a coughing fit,” goes the LP’s opening line in ‘Night Shift’. “If past you were to meet future me,” she sings on the final line of the closing title track, “would you be holding me now?”

It’s heartening to hear that the contents of Dacus’ NYE tarot reading were largely positive. The forecast noted that she should enjoy the proceeds of her hard work, but that “something horrible happens in the summer, then there’s kind of a rebirth, growing back into, like, life in an even more knowledgeable and peace-oriented way.” Dacus is about to leave, and picks up a bag of books she’s been keeping underneath the cafe table.

“It could be wrong,” she says. “I’m not superstitious. I’m taking it in. When that does happen I hope I can take my own advice – let it be what it is, and look past it eventually

(x) 3/14/18

#lucy dacus #interviews #loud and quiet #2018 #march 2018 #archival

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sophieinwonderland · 5 months

Text

r/systemscringe user ponders the question of whether they would still hate endogenic systems if we stopped calling ourselves systems. It goes... predictably.

Before going on... let me just stop and say how sad I think it is that u/DustyArcade is befriending people to bait them into revealing personal details about themselves for Reddit Karma.

While it seems hopeful that they're more open-minded than some of the others on the general concept of plurality, this is a really gross behavior.

Spoiler: the answer to this question is yes!

But before we get into that...

PSA: Beware @/Cains-Coin-Shop

Now, I am going to get into the comments, but before I do, we need to take an intermission for a PSA regarding u/DustyArcade. When looking at their post history, I ran across this.

The blog has apparently been reinstated in the week since that post.

And they're apparently an anti-endo tulpamancer.

I remember running across this not too long ago, thinking about responding, but deciding not to. Though given that this user is baiting people into friendships to post to Reddit, WATCH OUT FOR THIS BLOG.

I don't know of this is their bait blog or just another blog they happen to run. But either way, they aren't a safe individual to interact with if you're concerned about being posted to r/systemscringe.

Now, back to our regularly-scheduled debunking...

"They're already saying they don't have DID/OSDD but they're still faking it" is some of the wildest reasoning I've ever seen.

Now, "used by" is a pretty interesting use of words. Because sure, there are plenty of DID/OSDD systems who use these terms. But remember that "plural" was created in the 90s as an alternative to the medicalized "multiple." Likewise, "collective" and similar terms were created to distance people from medicalized terms like "system."

It's pretty clear that u/NonamesNolies has no understanding of plural history, which does get pointed out by u/DustyArcade to their credit.

Pretty sure the equivalent term before "endogenic systems" was "natural multiple."

Normally at this point, I would point out to u/NonamesNolies that the ICD-11 acknowledges that you can have multiple distinct personality states without a disorder.

I would point out that the creators of the Theory of Structural Dissociation have said spiritual practices and hypnosis may be able to result in the creation of self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality.

I would point to the chapter in Transgender Mental Health, published by the APA, which stated that you can be plural without a disorder or trauma.

But I won't do that because I know for a fact they aren't willing to listen, and just prefer to call any psychiatrists who disagree with them grifters. And yes, that's an actual thing they did, which I will get to at the end of this post!

Meanwhile...

Really just... going straight for those cult accusations, huh?

Funny from the science-denier.

Anyway, it's amazing how completely wrong they are on the term "multiple."

Yes, originally, the term was shared. And it still is to an extent. But then as the endogenic/non-disordered community broke off, they coined and popularized "plural" as an alternative to avoid medical connotations.

Plural was NEVER a DID/OSDD-specific term. It was always inclusive to all systems from the beginning.

But there you have your answer. It's not about the terms we use. It's about our existence. The language we use doesn't really matter to them.

There is... a whole lot in this interaction that it's hard to know where to begin. For one thing, most tulpamancy is viewed as psychological. And I imagine that even most spiritual tulpamancers would dispute their practice being considered "religious."

But to u/doubtful_messenger's assertion that endogenic systems need a parasitic relationship with DID, I'm just going counter that endogenic plurality through various names has existed for a long, long time.

The explanation of some forms of plurality as a mental disorder is fairly recent, only arising in the past couple hundred years. Before that, any instance of plurality was viewed as spiritual. Endogenic systems don't need a DID community to exist.

The tulpamancy and daemonism communities, forming completely independently of the larger plural community, proves that.

Finally... there's u/DustyArcade saying they thought they were turning into an endo, which I think I'll just let speak for itself.

...

The final comment in this thread I want to mention is from u/Kamari-mari, who I feel perfectly encapsulates the anti-endo point of view.

"Nothing you say matters because we already made up our mind and won't read anything that contradicts our preconceived notions."

And shoutout to u/bugzxvi for their addition of congratulating u/Kamari-mari for bragging about not being able to read three short paragraphs. It really pulls the whole thing together.

...

Okay, now I referenced u/NonamesNolies calling psychiatrists grifters, so let's dive into that next!

r/Systemscringeing on Transgender Mental Health

Quick note: That's not a typo. r/systemscringing is a new hatesub like r/systemscringe, but exclusively for systems to make fun of other systems.

The relationship between transgender mental health and plurality, including DID, seems pretty obvious to me. How many systems have headmates with various genders? How many of those experience dysphoria while fronting? How does the gender of nonfronting headmates affect the fronters? How do these factors affect transitioning?

This stuff is super important for doctors to understand when treating plural patients.

And it's wild how u/NonameNolies just immediately jumps to hating a psychiatrist for acknowledging the existence of endogenic systems.

This gets even worse in the comments.

What is the logic supposed to be in this argument? "If you're not a trauma specialist, you aren't qualified to say that plurality can be caused without trauma?"

How does that track?

I mean, surely, not being a trauma specialist means there's a better chance you'll run into plurals who aren't traumatized than someone who exclusively works with trauma victims, right?

"You can't say things other than X can cause Y unless you're an expert in X" doesn't actually make any sense.

Imagine if you decided that to say "diseases other than cancer can kill you," you needed to be a cancer specialist.

That would be pretty silly, wouldn't it?

Can we just take a step back for a moment and imagine something for a moment...

You are Eric Yarbrough. You worked hard for 8 years to earn a doctorate in psychiatry.

You've served the LGBTQ community tirelessly in the psychiatry field since, serving as president of The Association of LGBTQ psychiatrists, among many other roles.

You've become a Distinguished Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association, one of the highest honors given by the APA.

And some rando on Reddit just called you a grifter and said you should be ashamed of yourself because they're upset you don't support their bigotry in a book that itself was reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

...

Anyone else just feel like anti-endos treat psychiatrists the way Trump treats judges?

#syscourse #psychiatry #pro endo #pro endogenic #sysblr #multiplicity #psychology #american psychiatric association #systems #systemscringe #apa #systemscringing #system #r/systemscringing #r/systemscringe #actually plural #actually a system

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axcel-lucci · 1 year

Text

Secret...?

Trafalgar Law X fem!reader

Note: this might be a little angst so please bear with me?

Also, it's long. Might have more than 2 parts

(this is part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

The sun slowly starts to rise as it peaks through the blinds and shines against the captain's eyes causing him to stir awake.

Trafalgar Law soon groaned in annoyance as he reached at the window to close the blinds properly.

Once he does, he sighed remembered what just happened the night before. It made him smile at the sudden remembrance of such a thing...

He looks down and saw his soon to be wife sleeping on him, her neck clearly marked up and down with fading bite marks and hickeys.

It made law smile once more as he kissed the top of her head causing her to groan and wake up as well

"Good morning... Love..." She muttered as she looked up at him and smiled tiredly

"Good morning, keep sleeping, it's still a bit too early" he smiled and kissed her cheek

"Oh alright..." She laughed and went back to sleep.

A few moments passed by and the alarm clock rung 7 am causing the both of them to be forced to wake up, though (y/n) was still a bit sore, Law helped her around and eventually, they sat at the dining table, chatting away with coffees and a pleasant morning.

"Captaaaain!" Penguin and Shachi called making Law choke on his coffee

"What?!" Law yelled in annoyance as (y/n) laughed softly and wiped away the coffee that spilled from his mouth.

"Captain!" Shachi gasped, "we've got intel...!"

"What is it this time?" Law groaned

"Can you believe it? Our intel said that the biggest mafia hand in the world struck another nerve with the world government." Shachi laughed,

"Yeah, and how did they do that? They raised one of the biggest naval headquarters! They're insane for that...!" Penguin laughed

"It indeed took guts... Were they successful?" Law mumbled

"Of course they were, then if they didn't, it would be on the paper." Shachi scoffed

"I see... Then why not let's stay clear of these people for now... They're dangerous and very much powerful from what you just said." (Y/n) suggested as they nodded in agreement.

"Yeah... I heard the head was like... REALLY tall and very much scary..." Penguin shivered

"What, no one ever saw the head of the gang?" Law question.

Shachi shrugs, "people have seen the guy but due to his looks, he's quite unforgettable and yet people forget he's the head of the mafia."

(Y/n) merely hummed with a nod, "but I bet captain here could beat the guy easily if we're talking about looks, after all..." She laughed making the other two laugh and Law blush wildly

Later (in the evening)..

"Hey" Law called as he saw something at her side of the wardrobe as he was rearranging his to hide his now growing coin collection.

"Yeah?"

"Why do you have a riffle...?" Law muttered

"What rif-... Shit-" she immediately stood up and looked over to where he was looking, "ah...! I thought it was well hidden...!"

"What... Why do you have it though?" Law asked as she sighed and hid the riffle

"It's for emergencies... You know?" She laughed

Though it made Law suspicious, he brushed it off as an emergency thing.

Better safe than sorry, right?

But the thing is... He never saw (y/n) use a gun... Let alone a rifle that big.

He just looked back at her as she was reading a book peacefully by the desk, he just shrugged and carried on.

Then, a box came into view, also on her side of the closet, he looked over his shoulder to see her still reading her book.

He knew it would be wrong to suspect his soon-to-be wife with accusations... But he can't help but wonder what this box was.

So he softly and quietly opened it to see unopened letters, all addressed to her.

All with the same name, "Farcia, Lucifer".

Some were oddly designed in blue and red with small cherries and blueberries while some were plain white with the words "I'm sorry, dear" in front.

He wants to know who this person is and why (y/n) hasn't opened the letters. Nor has she mentioned ay of them to him...

The next day, he sent Klione to search who the hell "Farcia, Lucifer" is...

Klione immediately knew who it was just by the last name, "Farcia", alone.

"That's the head leader of the Calix Amini gang. You know, the biggest gangs in the world?" Klione answered truthfully.

"H-head?!" Law couldn't believe his own ears.

(Y/n)? Be linked to the biggest gang in the world?? That sweet and gentle girl?? Be strongly connected to the most vicious and very dangerous, as well as powerful, gangs in the world?!

No one would believe such a thing...

Law just nodded before thanking Klione for his own intel and walked off.

He knew (y/n) would be busy today so he looked for the box once more and took an envelope out.

He knew it was bad, he knew it was... I don't know, invasion of privacy...?

But if he covered it right back like it used to, she wouldn't know, right?

Managing to open the envelope without ever having any sings of it being opened, it was just a paper filled with apologies, of course starting off with the natural "dear (y/n)," and ending with "love, Lucifer".

And in the body of said letter was just apologies begging her to come back to the gang, pleading... Some tear droplets here and there...

Law couldn't believe it himself.

Lucifer? The head of the strongest, most famous, most powerful gang in the world... Crying over just to make (y/n) come back... "Home"??

"She's been hiding something... Why would she...?" He muttered as he re-sealed the envelope and place it back in the box.

The whole day, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

(Y/n) noticed there was something on his mind, so she asked after they had settled in for the night.

"Hey..." She called, "is something wrong..? You seem... Troubled..."

"(Y/n). Be honest..." He muttered, looking down before taking a deep breath and looking at her, "did you... Have a different lover... In the past?"

She was taken back by this so she immediately shook her head, "no! Why would I...? You're my first and last boyfriend..." She smiled softly, "what... What made you think of that...?"

He sighed and forced a smile before kissing her, "I see... I was just... I just needed that validation..."

She just hummed but knew he was lying.

The next day, the sub had resurfaced at an island to restock, Law stayed in with Shachi, penguin, and Bepo (he forced them to) while the others go and collect supplies

"Captaaaain" Shachi whined, "let us oooout!"

"Captain...? Is... Something wrong?" Bepo asked, noticing Law's uncertain expression.

"Come to think of it, you weren't so... Lovely with (y/n)... Did something happen??" Penguin asked as Shachi hummed

Law sighed, "well..."

He explained the situation with them making them look at him in shock

"(Y/n)?! Connected to gangs?! No way! She's like... She's like an angel on earth! She would definitely never join a gang!" Bepo said

"I know... That's why... I think we need to investigate this further... I want to know if she's... If..." Law couldn't even say it without crying

"Cheating on you...?" Shachi filled before shaking his head, "she would never... We saw how much she loves you. I'm sure there's a good explanation for this"

"Then why didn't she tell me sooner? I... Does she not trust me? Does she think I'm weak...?" Law muttered

"Captain, no-"

"Then why?!"

"Law... Calm down... Don't cry..." Bepo softly said as he hugged Law

He didn't even realise he was already tearing up.

"We'll help you, captain... We want to know as well" penguin said with determination.

"I remember their base is stationed here. Law, want to go and sneak around the base tonight...?" Shachi suggested

"Tonight...? But what will I say to (y/n)?" Law muttered

"Just tell her it's just us catching up, I'm sure she'll allow you to." Shachi grinned.

"I... I'll try..."

Later that night...

"Hey... (Y/n)" he called as he wrapped his arms around her from behind

"Yeah...?" She hummed softly and kissing his cheek

"Me and the boys wanted to go out tonight...?" He asked

"Hmm? Oh, sure! You guys need the catching up too" she smiled, "do I need to wait up for you or...?"

"No need, baby..." He smiled and kissed her lips, "I love you"

"I love you too..."

Later...

"She agreed, come on" Law nodded as the three grinned and nodded as well.

They headed over to the outskirts of the town where they found out was their base, actually, this whole island was theirs, but they chose to build on this secluded part of the island, away from the people. At least they were considerate, right?

The four had decided to peer from the bushes and saw a big luxurious mansion, it wasn't too bright or anything but enough to give law the impression that the inside was dim lit. Making it easy for them to walk past the guards inside and, hopefully, reach the head leader's office.

"Wow... They sure are loaded." Shachi muttered

"I mean... They're the biggest mafia group, I bet even the biggest guild in the world wouldn't be matched to them... I wonder what it's like working for them..." Penguin muttered

"Look at their weapons, captain..." Bepo pointed out, the weapons are... All oddly designed, maybe the owners designed it themselves...

Some had been painted pink, glittery, and had hello kitty stickers despite the owner being a tough guy, while some were... Bloody, for a small person.

"Look at the diversity... It's like they're their own person..." Shachi comments, noticing how each may have a uniform but at the same time, it's like they love it and has a say in what it looks like.

"Let's go in... There" Law pointed at the back entrance, a single door and it wasn't guarded

"It should be locked, but hey, I'm not a locksmith for nothing." Penguin chuckled.

...

"Great, we're in..." Law mumbled, "woah... Look at this place..."

The place looked stunning in the dim lighting, it looked some what scary but it has a specific vibe to it that made it less scary and more explorable.

"Wowsers...!" Bepo gasped when he saw other things such as forms of art, even old weapons displayed...

"Look out, everyone... We don't want to get caught." Law hummed.

...

"That's... Odd... It's already 7 in the morning and the boys haven't arrived yet." (Y/n) said in a worried tone

"Yeah... Usually, they'd arrive by 3 or 4 am..." Klione muttered

"Something must've happened to them..." Jean Bart mentioned

"No. Don't say that... I'll... I'll try to look for them, if I haven't yet returned in at least 4 hours, you can come looking for us." (Y/n) smiled softly.

"Alright... But be careful" Ikkaku said in a hum.

(Y/n) nodded and went to their room to change some clothes when she noticed her box was oddly placed.

"Ah... I see..."

(Last night)

Being bound by sea stone and brought to the prison that night wasn't part of Law's plan.

"The boss will see you in the morning" a lackey informed them, "well... You see... The boss and his husband hasn't... You know... Seen each other in a long time... So... We don't want to bother him... He'll instead see you in the morning"

"You're oddly too kind for a man who works under a gruesome man." Law said as the lackey shrugged

"Eh, I may be but hey... I've been in the best place since I joined" the lackey shrugged, "now... I'm quite required to give you some pillows and blankets... Though I don't think we have blankets his size..." The man points at Bepo, making the bear apologize

"Why..." Law looked at the man confused

"What? Just because you're in jail doesn't mean you're not human, duh. Just a sec, I'll see if we have a blanket big enough for the fuzzy guy." The man left

Law, Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin took the chance to look around.

The "prison" was just a regular, well vented, nicely kept, comfy room with bars for their "prisoners" and yet they are REQUIRED to give them pillows and blankets when they stay overnight??

The four starts to think the media may have been a little... Exaggerated...

But then again, the media did say the leader was a real demon from hell... So who's to say this was all a guise?

The man soon came back with others who were carrying some blankets and pillows

"Here..." The man said before opening the cell and hands them the stuff, "but... You know, can we ask you something?"

"Go right ahead" law huffed

"So... Why did you break in here? You're quite famous yourself, sir traf- ugh... Your last name is hard, so don't blame me if I butcher it... Sir Trafalgar, did I say that right?"

"Yes, yes you did."

"Good... You're quite famous, sir Trafalgar... Are you wishing to ask our boss for an alliance or something?" The man asked

"Ooh! How soft is his fur? Can I touch??" The other squealed in excitement when he saw Bepo

"Jefferson... The bear might not like being touched, you guys are excused, by the way..."

"Yes sir!" The other lackeys left soon after.

"So... Why did you come here?"

"That's none of your business" Law growled

"Alright. I don't care" the man shrugs, "well... Make yourself at home... If... This place is comfy... Want me to start the fire by the fireplace? It is quite chilly tonight."

"Oh, yes please!" Shachi said before sneezing

"Haha... You must be quite sensitive to the cold, yeah?" The man says as he starts the fire by the fireplace, "there. It should warm up in here in a few moments, I'll see you in the morning... Good night." He bows politely and left.

"That's... Odd..." Penguin muttered, "shouldn't they be ruthless? Aggressive...?"

"This must be a trap for us to trust them..." Law scoffed and just lied down, at least the floor was heated...

"You're right... Let's uh... Let's rest well..."

"I hope (y/n) won't get mad at us... Especially me since we might not be able to even come back before the sun rises..." Law mumbled.

"I'm sure she wouldn't" Bepo smiled, "though... Did we ever see her mad?"

"Technically...? No. But we can sometimes feel her anger seep through her but she is just quiet..."

"Let's not talk about that" penguin said before scoffing, "let's go to sleep."

Law sighed, "what would (y/n) think...? Would she be disappointed right now? I'm sure she would... But enough to... Leave me...? No... I know she would never." He thought to himself before drifting off to sleep.

(Right now)

Being pulled to a big and well kept office first thing after breakfast wasn't exactly what Law would prefer... Especially being cuffed to sea stone and surrounded by enemy.

They were soon in the middle of said office, like the rest of the mansion, it was dimly lit with the sun being the only source of light behind a big window with closed curtains and also behind a large desk stacked with papers.

Law looked around with his eyes and saw framed wanted posters of (y/n) next to framed articles of what he could only assume she had down through her journey with him and the crew. He could feel his blood start to bubble only for them to pop when the door was slammed open and rapid footsteps soon approach and walked behind the desk to sit on the only swivel chair on it.

The man that had just walked in was tall and incredibly big with four arms matching his physique.

The man himself had light chocolate skin with dark wolf cut hair and blood red eyes that seemed to shadow even more when he sat on the chair, glaring at them with a frown.

Though... Law could recognise the bite marks on his neck... Signs of love indeed...

And another man that had walked in alongside the big tall man...

This man was also tall but kind of built like how law is but a little skinny...

Had pastel purple hair that was slightly overgrown to under his shoulders, had a bright smile and clear skin, free of blemish, but if you count the hickies and bite marks on his neck and promptly under his sleeves...

His eyes were the same shade of (e/c) as (y/n)'s but a bit darker.

And all of that redeeming looks disappeared when he walked over to the man sitting behind the desk, glaring at them with an evil smile.

"The name's Lucifer Farcia, call me Lucifer if you'd like" the man that sat on the chair said as he crossed both his pair of arms...

"Dice Farcia" the man beside him bowed elegantly, "pleasured to be your acquaintance, sir Trafalgar Law. I've heard of your misdemeanor in the grandline, I'd say they were pretty endearingly brave."

"Pleasure's all mine." Law rolled his eyes.

"My husband here..." Dice hummed as he sat in Lucifer's lap, "he's quite busy, so get to the chase, why are you here?"

Lucifer just shrugged and held Dice in place, "my men had informed me that you and your men broke in. Why is that? We don't seem to have crossed paths in the past yet..."

Law frowned and scoffed, "what's your relationship with (y/n)? And I don't want you to tell me some pity story. Tell me all of it."

The mere mention of her name sent the men and the two to gasp and look at them as if they just grew two... No... Five heads.

"What?" Law muttered

"Hey! We don't talk-" the man from last night said but was ushered by Lucifer.

"No, no... How... Did you meet... Her...?" Lucifer mumbled

"Met her at a bar, she was the bartender. Asked her to join my crew. So what is your relationship with her?" Law answered truthfully.

Dice looked as though he just saw a ghost at how pale he was and looked at Lucifer who had an indifferent expression

"You two... Uhm... Seem pretty... Close?" Dice said, trying to lighten the now tense atmosphere.

"Of course they were, haha..." Penguin mumbled, also trying the same

"Why don't you ask (y/n) yourself?" Lucifer suggested, "I am in no place to tell you..."

Before anyone could even process what he said when the double doors of the office was kicked down by none other than (y/n), her eyes shadowed with anger as she didn't let anyone stop her, stomping her way over to place herself in between the two and her crewmates.

"Let them go." Her voice was laced with a specific type of anger they have never heard her have... Rage.

Lucifer could feel his breath hitch as Dice stood up from his lap, "(y/n)...!"

"Shut up. With all due respect, please, for now." (Y/n) muttered while looking at Dice

Dice merely sighed and backed off, letting (y/n) glare at Lucifer

"Let them go. Now." She growled, this initiating a long a gruesome glaring competition in which Lucifer knew he already lost when her voice was laced with rage

"Let... Let them go..." Lucifer's voice sounded so... Weak... At that moment...

As soon as the cuffs were off of them and they stood up from the couch, she turned to them with worry now in her eyes, "oh my dears...!" She gasped as she walked up to law and cupped his cheeks, "they didn't hurt you, did they?" She asked as she looked at him then at the other three

"Nope! They didn't...!" The three answered cheerfully.

She smiled softly with a sigh before kissing law, "I was so worried... I'm glad you guys didn't get hurt..."

"Sorry we made you worry" he muttered as she held both his hands.

"Next time, tell me... At least then I would've busted the front door open, haha..." She laughed softly before glaring at Lucifer who only looked at her with pain in his eyes

"What's your relationship... With him" Lucifer asked as (y/n) intertwined her left hand with his.

"He's my fiance, I have a ring to prove it." She smirked slyly, showing his the beautiful ring law made... Though it made him quite embarrassed about it.

"You're... Engaged?!" Dice gasped

Lucifer could only look away sadly before turning his chair's back towards them, "leave. Before I call my security on you. Someone lead them-"

"No need. I can still navigate this place myself, I'm not an idiot. Like you." She scoffed

"Then leave! Goddamit!" Lucifer bursted making (y/n) roll her eyes

"Oh whatever." She huffed as she dragged the four of them out there.

The entire time, Law could feel how angry she was with how much she clutched his hand and her pace was rather fast.

"(Y/n)...?" Law called in a gentle voice

It seemed to ease her as she slowed down and sighed all her frustrations out, enough to face him with a tired smile, "yeah?"

@jadedrrose part 1 is done hahahahah!

Creds to: @jadedrrose for giving me some idea.

(didn't expect it to be long imo)

(this is part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

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