#very brief and only mentioned

[system-hottakes]

Not a serious hot take, but the endoskeletons from 2014 indie horror franchise Five Nights At Freddy's are the only endos I support

-- Umbrella

lmao, same. the only endos I support are Fnaf endos, because at least they're honest when they try kill me

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Bury Your Gays

Horror

a scriptwriter in hollywood who’s getting attention & an Oscar nom after working in the industry for years, but is being pressured by algorithm-obsessed producers to kill off the queer characters in the season finale of the show he writes

and when he starts getting stalked by the monsters he wrote (based on traumas of his past) he has to figure out how to survive, along with his best friend and boyfriend

[marrfixated]

(More thoughts and drafting! Some weird formatting I know but it was all one block in my notes)

Emma is doing just fine. Average. It’s really not so bad.

She’s just been dealing with a lot of change. And with too many things not changing.

Which is… an odd thing to struggle with.

Because she likes change. Daunting challenges. The unpredictable. Doing new things every day and never being scared of them. And she likes independence.

She had thought so, at least.

After the show, she had been hit in the face with just how… isolated she was. She had only had two friends before the first season, but she had left them behind. Her mother wasn’t doing the best, and she didn’t have any nearby family.

She found herself laying in her bed in the middle of the day most of the time, scrolling through her contacts and old conversations.

Or scrolling through her comments on TikTok.

A few weeks ago, she had tried some stunt involving a motorcycle and an inflatable pool. She probably wouldn’t have messed it up if her hands weren’t trembling.

(She had forgot to check the breaks, and wasn’t sure if they were working.)

(They were.)

The blood dripping down her face and the gash in her lip didn’t sting as much as it did watching the video.

She looked ridiculous, and she probably always did. It was better when she had someone else to do it with. Maybe she was losing her touch.

She didn’t post the video.

She turned back to dancing instead, which did feel less embarassing, despite the constant mocking feedback. Sure, the jokes were “funny”, but she didn’t care about any of it. She didn’t feel the rush, she wasn’t planning every day, and she wasn’t known or loved for anything.

Except for what she lost.

And, the show, to an extent.

-Ugh, she misses the show. She shouldn’t, but as stupid as it sounds, she really did. She missed doing crazy things and talking to people. Having a chance of winning. Beating everyone. Being cheered on. It wasn’t always great, but at least it was something. She misses doing something.

And she really misses Bowie. She missed Bowie, but she knows better than anyone that she can’t go back to that. They just- have better things to do now. He probably does.

He’s got Raj- which is great! And she’s happy for him! She’s happy for everyone. For Wayne, however he’s doing, for Julia, despite everything.

And Caleb. For having Priya.

Emma is jealous that Bowie gets to have someone.

Emma is jealous that everyone else gets to have someone.

Emma is jealous that, unlike everyone else, winning the show probably wouldn’t have made her any happier.

She isn’t sure what would.

[to-a-merrier-world]

writing pet peeve: when character A and character B are very far away from each other and SHOULD be in very different time zones (like, a 10 hr difference), but the author never accounts for that, so you’re reading abt a guy in russia eating dinner over video chat with a guy in chicago, who is eating dinner at the same time cause it’s somehow 6pm in both places☠️

[phantastragoria]

The tragedy that is the majority of viewers not catching onto the fact that Gamora had tons of internal cybernetics and an entirely replaced skeletal system when those are the only things that will remain long after she's gone.

[seirei-bh]

This is how I feel being the only one in the fandom shipping Kaladin x Tarah

[magiirealism]

Character Profile: Machi

Eighteen-eighty-nine, London.

Cooper & Sons Coffee House is regarded by many as the place to be after work and on the weekends by many men in the locale.

The "son" in this arrangement is one Mr L Cooper. He is considered to be of the gentle sort, a man who has never seen a day of hard labour in his twenty-something years of life yet has experienced many a burn plying the family trade. He is often made the joke for this gentler way of living life compared to men who work in factories and mines, but he takes this with good humour and continues to serve a variety of non-alcoholic beverages and foodstuffs to the patrons; ensuring that those who wish to conduct their regular business of talk and drink are seated in the front, while those who wish to smoke are directed to the parlour in the back rooms of the establishment.

Enter one Ernest Westbrook, a man who frequents the coffee house and has revealed too much about his life to those in the employ of Cooper & Sons: his debts are mounting and he is no longer in a position to propose to the woman he loves, who he purports now looks elsewhere when she spies a man upon the street. He has a plan, however, a way to wipe his debts and ensure security of his relationship.

Just one week after such an assurance, Mr Westbrook is never seen again.

Despite not being well regarded in the community, there is chatter amongst those who frequent Cooper & Sons as to the disappearance of the social butterfly. Some say he skipped town, others that he took his life in orders to escape. Some say he was tracked down by those he held debts with, others that he had finally gotten his life together. Mr L Cooper hears all these theories and even those quite a bit stranger - even that his woman, a lovely lady who he'd had the pleasure of meeting once, had murdered Mr Westbrook and dismembered his corpse and hid the parts of his body all over town.

Mr L Cooper cannot be certain as to the voracity of any of these theories, but life continues on; the disappearance of Mr Westbrook is no more than a passing concern as he continues working with his father on their livelihood.

It's approximately four weeks after the disappearance of Mr Westbrook and two weeks after last hearing the name that he appears.

Locking up the shop in the dark of night, his father routinely returning home early to work on the business side of things, is when Mr L Cooper first notices the stranger. He pays this no mind; there are many out on the streets of London in the dead of night, including himself. He offers a brief greeting and continues on his way.

But then he notices the stranger on the next night, and the night after that, and even the night after that.

For some three weeks this continues on, until the stranger finally speaks.

'Mind if I grab a drink?'

Mr L Cooper refuses, of course. He is closing up for the night; if he wishes to give the coffee house his custom, he will need to return during open hours.

But the stranger is persistent; he cannot come back during the day. And so it is that Mr L Cooper accedes, unlocking the shop and inviting him inside.

In quite the mood after an already long day, Mr L Cooper tells the stranger to take a seat, but he will need to be quick; he will not wait around for the customer to take in the atmosphere at this time of the evening.

There's little time to finish his sentence, though, before he's set upon, a quick punch to the head sending the rather unfit Mr L Cooper to the ground, and in a brief flash he finally recognises the stranger as one Mr Ernest Westbrook, who had gone missing almost two months ago to the day, and there is no ability to question the sudden reappearance before inhuman fangs sink into his neck.

When Mr L Cooper awakes, it is to his father, Mr A Cooper, shaking him, pleading for his son to wake up. As his eyes flutter open, there's recognition, but he notices that his son is not quite the same: his already fair skin is pale as though he has taken ill, his eyes, albeit naturally brown, are now crimson and there's a certain bloodlust to be found within.

He has no time to state any of this aloud as he discovers the final point the hard way, with Mr L Cooper tearing him apart, draining him for every drop of blood in his body.

Mr L Cooper is immediately mortified with himself. He draws the curtains - not only for his protection, but he's feeling oddly sensitive to the light which streams in - and takes the remains of his father into the smoking parlour (where he also draws the blinds), where he's able to panic in his mortified fear with privacy.

He doesn't want to believe it, any of it. His father is dead by his own hand. Just the night prior, Mr L Cooper himself was attacked, blacking out before the end of it all. He is rather more pale than before and, were it not for the way he had torn into his father, he may not believe that he has sharp fangs where there were none before.

He doesn't want to believe it because none of it seems true, but when that desire to drink blood returns to him, a man who has never once wished even the smallest bit of harm upon another, he knows he has to accept what happened the night prior and what he now is.

A vampire.

Mr L Cooper writes a letter to his mother. He will be going away for a while; he does not reveal anything of what happened to his father, her beloved husband. Though it pains him, he knows that Cooper & Sons Coffee Shop will need to close, for a woman cannot possibly run the business of a coffee shop, let alone on her lonesome.

And so he does disappear from society. None know where he goes, nor what becomes of him, and similar rumours are sure to come up about him as they did for Mr Westbrook, with whom he shares the same fate. The only time he reappears is in the dead of night so that he might prey on unsuspecting victims - victims who are just as unlucky as he had been.

He does not know what becomes of his mother, whether she continues to live in London or whether she continues to live at all. It is only some 30 years later that he reappears, having not aged a day. Whispers erupt throughout London that the renowned Cooper & Sons Coffee House has returned, and new and old patrons alike return (including women, who he is initially quite surprised are now allowed to frequent such places). They ask about Messrs A and L Cooper, but even when he is present, the owner of the store, who simply goes by Machi, tells that he knows naught about the fate of the original Coopers, despite the fact some swear he looks oddly like the man who puts the sons in Cooper & Sons...

It is only until he can afford to hire staff that Machi, formerly known as Mr L Cooper, is seen regularly about the shop. At this point, Machi retires to the now defunct smoking parlour, where he begins to renovate and also experiment with blood - human blood, to be precise, and how he can turn it from the boring same old that it always is into an enjoyable drink for the discerning vampire, just as the men in the front room enjoy their coffee over drinking something so plain as water, for example.

It takes some years to perfect his first recipes and another couple to find enough vampiric clientele to open proper, but in the early 1900s - a rather tumultuous time to be putting his business plans into motion, to be sure - the smoking parlour, now with blinds which block out all light, reopens for those in the know and becomes the place to be for those with a desire to try something different.

And so it is that Cooper & Sons, a coffee shop with a history spanning almost one and a half centuries, is now open 24/7, serving coffee until dark in the front room and blood-based beverages all day, everyday in the old smoking parlour.

Just make sure you are not in the wrong place at the wrong time, lest the 180 year old owner decides your blood would be perfect for a drink base...

[lanayru-the-water-god]

After healing

Lanayru wakes up slowly, the weakest she’s ever been, but still realizes that Nerin isn’t quite right. Something happened…and Nerin won’t tell her.

(Lanayru is ~900 years old)

Word count: 1301

“…..ru?”

“…wait…takes a minute…”

“Lanayru?”

Slowly, the first feelings of consciousness emerge from the peaceful dark void.

“Lanayru.”

The Water Goddess groans, stirring only slightly.

“Shh…give her a minute…”

“Are you with me?”

…Nerin?

The black void begins to dissipate, pieces of awareness floating into her mind. Lanayru groans again, eyes too heavy to open and body melting into a soft surface…Where’s Nerin?

“….she’s coming around.”

Huh?

Who’s…that?

Her hands are cold, so cold, tucked under something warm and fluffy…her entire body seems to be covered. Almost like…a blanket.

Something, or someone, is pressing down on her chest, moving softly. Cool hands touch her face, making her wince, and she takes in a slow breath.

“Hrrmphhh…” With what little energy she can muster, she peels her eyelids open halfway, lifting her head only slightly. Through bleary eyes she can make out an incredibly blurry mass of white atop her blanket. “Wha…?”

“Lanayru!” The white shape moves suddenly, making her head spin. “Hi, waterdrop! Can you hear me?”

“Mmm…” She rests her head back down, closing her eyes. “…yeah.”

“Oh, thank goodness! It is so good to see you, my darling.” The pure relief is evident in Nerin’s voice…telling her something has happened. Her friend had been waiting.

“Lanayru, welcome back.” The other voice is speaking now. “It’s me, Starlight. Just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Another groan escapes her lips, and she can no longer feel Nerin’s weight on her chest. It’s just the three of them, right here, in what she assumes is her bedroom…everything before that is…gone.

“What…happened?”

Nerin takes a second to answer.

“You don’t remember, waterdrop?” A hand nudges on her shoulder. “Come on, look at me.”

It takes an immense amount of effort to open her eyes, her blurry vision swimming, but she can see the outlines of her best friend standing above her.

“Here, what’s the last thing you can recall?”

Lanayru gazes blearily at Nerin, growing ever more fatigued from the attempt to think…

Nothing.

Nothing is coming to mind.

“I…” she croaks. “I don’t—“

“There has to be something! Please think, waterdrop!”

“Nerin, darling,” Starlight’s calm voice interjects. “I am afraid Lanayru’s memory has been compromised. You must tell her what happened.”

“No…no, I-I can’t…”

“She deserves to know. Please.”

Wh-what’s going on?

Something horrible must have happened. If only she could remember what…

“Lanayru?” A soft hand touches her chin, turning her head on the pillow. “No, don’t fall asleep, come on—“

Slowly she peels her eyes back open- when had she closed them?- and her gaze is once again met with Nerin’s blurry figure. From what little she can make out of her friend’s face, something stands out to her, something running down her cheeks…

Tears.

Nerin is crying.

“Hmmm….you’ok?” she slurs out, the deep exhaustion still evident in her voice.

“Am I—Lanayru!” Nerin gasps. “Look at me…look at you! Please…try to remember?”

She wants to remember, more than anything…but oh Gods, her fuzzy brain won’t comprehend.

“…‘can’t…’m sorry.”

Somehow, Nerin won’t tell her. It’s almost as if her friend is…dreading the thought of it? Her head pounds slightly and her weak body threatens to drift off once again…Stay awake, Lanayru. She keeps her bleary eyes open, heart aching at the sight of Nerin in such distress.

“Okay,” The Swan Goddess sighs, wiping the tears with her hand. “RuRu, you saved my maiden’s life. Ivory would have… died if it wasn’t for you, waterdrop, but you’ve been gone for…” She sniffles. “…a long time.”

“Thirty-five days,” Starlight adds. “Four less than last time, but your Swan Goddess couldn’t wait. She was desperate, she’s been waiting here for days—“

Nerin holds up a hand. “That’s enough, please, don’t overwhelm her.” She then moves her delicate fingers to Lanayru’s forehead. “Now, anything coming back to you yet?”

Lanayru racks her muddled brain, things sounding so familiar…you saved my maiden’s life…Ivory…thirty-five days…last time? Whatever she had done, it happened before, but what…

In front of her, a hazy image appears. Her body glowing white, the life seeping out of her, a woman’s pale form lying on the ground…

Healing Grace!

Lanayru lets out a quiet gasp.

“I…healed her,” she chokes out, and Nerin lifts the hand off. “…Iv’ry.”

“There you go, that’s it!” The Swan Goddess sighs, in what seems to be relief. “You just finished recharging, waterdrop. I know you’re still out of it, but I’m here, Starlight’s here…you’re gonna be okay, you’re back with us. With me.”

Lanayru blinks, as her companion’s face comes more into focus. “Mrmmph…” she mumbles, keeping the warm blanket over her ice-cold fingertips.

“How are you feeling, Lanie? Do you need anything?”

“…’m tired…” The image of a bleeding Ivory drifts through her mind again, the last thing she can remember. “…’s Iv’ry ok?”

“Yeah, she’s doing much better,” Nerin replies, smiling through the tears. “Back on her feet and fully recovered. Thanks to you, waterdrop.”

“But…you lost me…”

“Yes.” Another tear runs down her friend’s cheek. “It was a horrible situation, Lanayru, trust me that you did the right thing. No matter how hard it was for us.”

The Water Goddess groans again. She doesn’t know if it’s the exhaustion talking, but Nerin just seems…off. Almost like she’s hiding something.

Healing Ivory must have killed her. It had to…right? And Nerin’s tears are not of joy but of agony. Something happened. Something else happened…

Was she there?

Did she…

Lanayru whimpers, vision continuing to clear. The look on her friend’s face is enough to break her heart right in two. She almost wishes she was still unconscious.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I-ugh, I…don’t know.” The more she tries to gather fragments of her memory, the more her head spins. “Y-you’re upset…”

“I’m sorry,” Nerin mutters, quickly wiping her eyes with one arm. “I shouldn’t overwhelm you, Lanayru. You’re still so weak, and chances are you won’t remember this conversation later. That happened last time—“ The Swan Goddess briefly buries her face in her hands. “Argh, I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay, Lady Nerin,” Starlight assures her. “And Lana, your friend is right. You should just focus on resting…I should have considered how you may not recall much of this, my apologies.”

Ignoring the Dweller’s comment, the Water Goddess continues to gaze at her companion with tired eyes.

“Lil’one…if I won’t remember this…then—tell me what’s wrong.”

“Lanayru, I can’t. It will upset you too much. Just listen to Starlight, okay? The sooner you recover, the sooner we can get this all sorted out.”

“But…’m recovered…”

“No, you are not.” Nerin’s voice is surprisingly firm. “You’re fighting just to stay conscious, I can tell. You are too weak to even sit up, waterdrop. So I would hardly call that recovered.”

Lanayru sighs, her heavy eyes drooping again. If Nerin really was there, then—

She thinks back to her friend’s head on her chest, and her own heart sinks.

Then Nerin saw me…stop breathing.

“Urrgh…’m so sorry, lil’one…” she groans, rubbing her pounding head. “So sorry…”

“For what? Oh, Goddesses—“

The darkness begins to welcome her with open arms…

“Lanayru?”

Slowly she blinks her eyes back open. “Hmm?”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Ivory is okay, I’m okay…soon you’ll be okay too. You saved her, waterdrop, never forget that.”

“Nerin…were you there?”

The Swan Goddess falls silent, eyes widening. She seems to be struggling to respond, but that is all Lanayru needs. The answer is finally clear.

“You watched me…”

“Shh…relax, waterdrop.” Nerin gently soothes her. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

No…

I died and she watched me.

Floating on the edge of the comforting darkness, Lanayru feels the sharp pang of guilt in her chest, taking over her senses…

“You can go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be right here.”

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya is rather touch averse, cringing away from casual contact people give him under the guise of being distracted or idle movement. He's used to it, the Ragnvindrs and Adenlinde got him used to frequent affectionate physical contact, but it can still be entirely Uncomfortable if he's touched by someone outside those he is close to or someone he's otherwise Allowed to touch him.

[mariocki]

Night Key (1937)

"Now, listen, Steve. Twenty years ago you robbed me of the patent rights of the system that you're now using. Perhaps there was some excuse for that: because it gave you wealth, success, position, all the things that tempt one man to rob another. But now that you have everything and I have nothing, what possible reason is there for you to do this to me again?"

[strawnav]

"Hachi —"

"He didn't tell me. Not exactly. But he —" Jinbei's voice falters, and Nami fights to keep her shoulders squared and her expression smooth, when he says, "— he warned me, about the kinds of things I might do that he felt might...be upsetting to you. So that I could avoid those behaviors."

Some part of Nami's heart breaks, and she smiles, faint and almost sharp, at the idea of Hatchan trying to protect her in this small, simple way. It's kind, but it's something else, too. "And based on what he said, you've...guessed."

He doesn't pretend otherwise, and she appreciates it. "Yes. Not the finer details, but...some of it."

She sits, body suddenly feeling heavy, and sinks into one of the room's plush seats. It's quiet, in the library. Just her and their newest crew member, who she does not fear. Who she does not fear. But her body remembers. Suddenly she can do little else. "What did he say?"

Jinbei would clearly rather not say, but he sits, too, and respects her too much to lie or evade. "He said it might make you uncomfortable to see me using a firearm." Her mind fills with images and sounds, the bang of a gunshot / the sight of her mothers skull exploding, viscera falling out like a spilled bowl / Nojiko's scream. "He told me to let you eat first, before myself, if there was ever a situation where we needed to eat in turns." It's been years since she's been forced to skip a meal, either because her captors decided she wasn't worthy of food or because spending even a cent on a meal was selfish, but she remembers the clutching, devouring hunger and the way her ribs felt against her skin nevertheless. "He though it would be best if I avoided waking you at night if there was any other option." His voice twists, and she doesn't have it in her to wonder what he's imagining. The first six months were the hardest, as far as sleep goes, never being allowed more than a few hours at a time because Arlong wanted to break her circadian rhythm, forcing her up at random to redo maps she knew were perfect. The years after, when she'd wake screaming and be beat for causing such a racket, and the way now she can't scream when she wakes up at all.

She swallows thickly, does not try to force the memories away, does try not to let them settle.

"Was that all?" Nami asks, her voice stronger than she feels.

"And he...suggested I shouldn't come near you generally while you're working on maps."

That has her stiffening. A too - large hand against her skull, slamming her face to her work table, smearing wet ink on her cheeks and blooming bruises beneath it. The memories always float closest to the surface when she draws maps, and that makes her so fucking angry she still wants to scream some days, because drawing maps is her passion. She loves little more. And he took it from her, transformed the simple, warm joy into a source of fear and anger. It's hers, now, but it isn't just her body that he left scarred. It's her dream. Every day, the scars fade, and she believes that someday, it'll be all hers again, but that she has a scar to heal at all is all wrong.

"Hah. That was kind of him." Her hand raises, pressing idly to her tattoo and the jagged scar beneath it. "I kind of hate how weak it makes me seem, though. That he thinks you need to walk on eggshells around me, just because Arlong hurt me."

"Not weak," Jinbei says. "I know that you're the farthest thing from weak."

Nami smiles, not looking at him, and tries to remember that he's right. "I want to tell you about it. Everything that happened." Hatchan was being kind, to tell him this. Nojiko was being kind, when she told Sanji and Usopp. She understands. But it's not their story to share. "I want you to know, and I want you to hear it from me."

He stiffens, and she can tell even without looking at him by the way his breath skips. Fishmen and humans breathe differently. She knows that, too. She imagines hearing a fishman's breath at her back while she draws a map, and is forced to consider that at least one piece of Hachi's advisements may be wise. Jinbei nods and says, "Of course."

"I'm not telling you to hurt you. This crew is like a family to me, and that means you, too. I want everything to be out on the table between us." She looks at him, still smiling, tired but not lying. "And I think we both need the reminder that we're strong enough to bear the truth."

Jinbei smiles, too, and nods again. Nami inhales.

"The reason Hachi probably thought it might upset me if I saw you with a gun — the first thing Arlong did to me was invade my village when I was ten. He took it over, and demanded tribute from everyone. My mother, she — she only had enough money for herself or for my sister and I, and she chose to save us. Arlong — he shot her in the head in front of us." She's surprised at how even her voice is, even while he heart breaks at the memory. She'd tried to help Bellemere after; tiny, trembling hands reaching as though she could put her brains back in her skull, and Nojiko had held her back. Jinbei looks, again, like he may cry, and Nami feels herself grow more tired.

He starts, "I'm so —"

"No," she says. "Don't. It's not your fault. I don't blame you. You've apologized already, and I accepted it. You're not your brother, and I know that. Seeing you with a gun wouldn't scare me, because I know you're not like him."

Jinbei nods, lips thin. Nami looks back to the half - finished map resting on her work table. It's nice, that she can take breaks whenever she wants now. She lets her eyes rest there.

"After he killed my mother, he found a map I'd drawn. I don't remember what I said, but I must have gotten mad at him for touching it or something, because he realized I drew it. Even back then, I was good at it, and Arlong took me away. A man in the vilage who cared about me — he's like a father to me — tried to stop him from taking me, and he was...he got hurt, real badly for it. He almost died."

She doesn't look back at Jinbei. She thinks of Genzo's voice, ragged, barely - there, soaked with blood, I'll save you, Nami. She thinks of screaming, begging him to abandon her. It took her so long after to learn that she was allowed to let others protect her, that she doesn't get everyone who loves her hurt.

"Once he took me away, Arlong beat me and made me watch him sink the Navy ships that came close. I didn't understand what he wanted, but...he was just trying to prove to me that I was alone. That help wasn't coming. He said I could join his crew as their cartographer. I —" Her voice breaks, just barely, as she remembers the little girl, so scared, so small, who'd had to be so, so brave. She wishes she could hold her. She wishes she could tell her that it would be okay someday. "I told him I'd only work for him if he'd let me buy the village back from him someday. And he agreed."

"He did?" Jinbei sounds sincerely surprised, and Nami laughs weakly, eyes drifting to her knees.

"He did. I'd just have to earn one hundred million berries for him, and I'd have the town's freedom. And my own."

"One hundred —"

"I was still a little girl, so I — I didn't really understand just how big that number was. But I didn't...there wasn't any choice. I d - didn't see any other choice. No one was coming to save us. Either I protected the village, or...or they'd all die, like my mom did." She inhales raggedly. "It was all I could do."

"I'm sorry," he says again, and her head snaps to him but before she can tell him to stop, he says, "I'm not taking responsibility. But I am sorry that happened. That shouldn't have...no child should ever be put in that position."

He's right. Nami smiles, and allows herself a few tears. All of the others said the same, when she'd told them. It's a good reminder, that her pain was as horrible and wrong as it had felt. As it still feels, on the worst days.

"Anyway, I ended up working for him. It was more like I was his prisoner than a member of the crew. He gave me a tattoo on my arm of his Jolly Roger, like — hah, well. I guess like a brand." Jinbei's face twists, a mixture of guilt and fury, and she thinks of Fisher Tiger's last words and understands, at least a little. "He was...awful to me. Almost the whole crew was. I went without food a lot. I got beat a lot. He didn't let me sleep enough or eat enough, and he almost killed me more times than I can count. I think he expected me to die. I think he wanted me to." It hadn't felt like an option to her. She was all that stood between Arlong and the village. "He let me stop wearing chains when I turned twelve. A birthday present." Jinbei's expression contorts further. She reaches out her free hand, hesitates, and then commits, resting it over his. His eyes widen as his head snaps towards the contact, then towards her face.

She smiles, trying to comfort them both. This aches, but she's told the story to the others enough that at least the wound isn't new. The hurt is like a stone, stuck in the center of her chest — whenever she tells someone, it feels like chipping away at it.

"He was...exacting about his maps. He locked me in a little room for a long time, didn't let me see any other humans for years. It was just work and maps and getting hurt whenever I tried to rest. I couldn't breathe. When he finally started letting me leave the island, I started stealing from — anywhere. Anything I could get my hands, to save the money to buy the island. Eventually, I started stealing from pirates."

Nojiko's horror, the first time she came home, blood dripping from her mouth and wounds across her arms and chest. Who cares that I'm hurt, I got ten thousand berries right here!

It's easier, to tell this part of the story.

"They hurt me, too, but...honestly, it was still better than being at Arlong Park. Nothing that any of them did to me could match what Arlong did." She inhales slow, exhales slower. Jinbei moves his hand beneath hers slowly, so as to not startle her, and flips it so her hand rests in his wide palm. She doesn't flinch, when he curls his hand gently around hers. "That was...my whole life. For eight years."

The number seems to wound him, and his eyes lower. Nami breathes, but does not stop. She must not believe herself fragile. She must not believe him fragile, either. "I had saved a lot over the years. Arlong figured out how close I was, and he had one of the Navy fuckers he was paying off steal my stash, so that I was back to square one. They shot my sister — she lived, thank god." She'd been so scared, mind conjuring images of Belle - mere's blood in the grass, another person dead because of Nami. "I — the villagers were so angry at Arlong, and so angry on my behalf, that they...they decided they'd rather die fighting Arlong and his men than live another day like this. I tried to convince them I could just...earn the money again, but..."

Inhale. Exhale. This part is hard. It had been so strange, to go from universally despised to so, so loved, and all in a matter of hours. To know that she was going to lose the people who loved her again. "The village loved me, even if I didn't know it. They wouldn't let Arlong get away with hurting me like that, and I think they...they thought that if they died, at least I'd finally be able to escape. I wouldn't have anybody left to save except myself." Her smile turns bitter. "Idiots. At that point, I'd have just died, too."

Her hand against her scar finally falls, and Jinbei's eyes fall to the exposed flesh. The scar is audacious and ugly, but it's mostly covered by the pinwheel. He seems to only now realize how extreme the wound is. "I was so angry at him, and so scared for my family, and so sick of — of having his mark on my body, this reminder that it wasn't really my body, just his tool, and I just — I snapped. I basically tried to carve his brand off of me." Jinbei winces, eyes shining, teeth gritting. There is no fear in her that the anger he expresses is aimed at her. "It's a miracle I can still use my arm at all, honestly. Luffy found me like that, and he didn't even know the story, he just...hated seeing me suffering like that. He and the others marched off to Arlong Park. And against all odds...they won. Luffy, he — he destroyed the room Arlong kept me in, destroyed all the maps I'd drawn in captivity. Destroyed everything connected to — what Arlong did to me. After that, after all that pain, I was...finally free."

Jinbei is silent for a long, long time. Nami doesn't rush him. She needs the quiet to swallow her tears, to let the memories wash through her and leave without drowning her. Fishmen hands feel different than human hands, but she's glad that holding Jinbei's hand doesn't chafe. It feels comforting. It feels kind.

Finally, the fishman says, "how long ago were you freed?"

Nami breathes out. "Almost three years ago."

"Three years of freedom after eight years of captivity and abuse from my brother. I don't fault you for being uncomfortable around me."

"Hey, stop that," Nami commands. "Listen. I'm not uncomfortable around you. We're holding hands now, and all that makes me feel is safe." Jinbei's eyes widen, head raising to look at her face. Her lips are set in a stern line, shoulders strong. "I'm not saying that there won't be bad days where I might jump when you greet me or something or feel anxious drawing my maps around you or the memories might make things hard. But it's not about you or about you letting Arlong go. I get that way about Sanji or Brook or the others sometimes, too." He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he squeezes her hand like he wants to be. "It's not about you. It's just the memories. We've both suffered a lot because of each other's people. But I don't blame you, and I know you don't blame me. There's no part of me, not a single one, that believes you'd ever hurt me the way Arlong did." Jinbei's eyes widen and shine and hurt. Softer, she adds, "There's no part of me that believes you'd ever hurt me at all."

The older man's voice trembles, breaking like the tears flowing from his eyes, when he says, "You are — far kinder than I deserve, and unimaginably brave." She smiles again, helpless this time, as she feels her own eyes begin to well again.

"Now you know my whole story. Thank you for letting me tell you."

"I'm a part of the crew," he says, still crying, but his voice is steadying. She thinks of the singular time she'd caught Arlong crying. He'd beat her for daring to see his fear and pain, and she knows that Jinbei is much stronger than him in many ways, that he is not afraid to allow himself to feel and cry and grieve. She is, too. "You said it yourself. This crew is like family, and there shouldn't be secrets." He breathes out a stuttering laugh, his tears slowing. "It's a bit strange to adjust to how close you are all."

"Give it a month or two," Nami shoots back, teasing a little now. "Luffy will have you so overwhelmed by how stupid we all are that you'll have no choice but to adjust."

"I hope to learn from all of you," he says, free hand wiping at his eyes. She releases his palm, and the other presses to his chest, and to the symbol that had frightened her in the early days "I hope that someday I may possess a fraction of your strength, Nami."

That draws a laugh from her, startled and shy. "The others on the crew are much strong than me."

"I don't believe that," he says, and he means it. He does. Her heart feels — light and heavy both. Floating on saltwater. She is strong, she knows. "To be strong enough not only to endure that hardship, but to have coped and moved on to the extent that you have...to be honest, I envy you. Arlong hurt you far more than he did me, and yet...the strength you display with regards to him is not something I can ever hope to match."

Her brow furrows. "He was your brother. He is your brother. That doesn't excuse him, and I'll always hate him for what he did to me. But it's a hell of lot easier to move on from a villain you hurt you than from the brother that you love."

Jinbei smiles joylessly. "Strange that the same man can be both, isn't it?"

She doesn't have a reply to that. All she can say, after a long moment of silence, is, "you're strong, too." To take responsibility for what is only barely his fault, to cry to a human even though humans have hurt him, to hold the love and the hate for Arlong together in his heart and not fall apart with it.

Jinbei smiles, not looking convinced, but doesn't argue.

"Do you want to — stay with me?" Nami asks suddenly. "While I finish this map?"

His eyes widen. "Are you sure you'd be comfortable with that?"

His concern isn't unwarranted. This conversation has memories bubbling to the surface, pressing against her head — Belle - mere, pain, years of abuse. The time Arlong drowned her and then crushed her hands. A fishman's breathing near her while she draws maps. It might be hard, but — "I'm strong," she says, because she needs to. "And I think I need..." She exhales, trying to think of how to word it. "I used to be afraid of pirates, you know? Much more than I was afraid of fishmen. When I started traveling with Luffy, I was terrified of him. But every day when none of them hurt me, the fear got...smaller. The memories of my crew being good to me drowned out the memories of the crew that hurt me. And I think...I think I need memories of maps and fishmen that are safe, too. To drown out the memories that aren't." She laughs quietly. "I guess I'm being selfish."

Jinbei smiles, almost paternal, eyes still red from his tears. "I think that makes perfect sense. I'd be happy to keep you company."

Nami grins. She's sure it might ache. But she's sure, too, that he won't hurt her. Even now, years later, what a relief — to know her crew won't ever hurt her.

"Thank you."

[hella1975]

okay the giraffe symbolism in tlou:

soo it’s more there in the game but giraffes are like a recurring symbol that appears throughout the game (i think there’s some in the show too, i think there was one on a poster in sarahs room? i could be wrong) like in the game you’ll see a lot of kids with giraffe toys and as posters in kids rooms and they’re basically meant to represent innocence in dark times. so like ellie petting and feeding the giraffe is like meant in a way to show her going back to her childlike innocence for a minute after loosing it due to david and everything she went through and her reconnecting with her old self for a moment. and then the giraffes leaving is supposed to symbolize like “life goes on” anyways idk if this makes sense i’m sleepy

any form of childlike innocence in a dark and cruel environment makes me balls to the wall insane i hate this i love this im tearing my hair out

[breadedsinner]

Fenris, Isabela, and Sebastian, at some point, all mourn a group of people the player never meet.

I like to think they still meet up post campaign and toast to them.

[sudden-memory-loss]

guess who finally became a zedaph patron but is now way too nervous to actually introduce himself or go onto the server!!!!!!!

[lordofthestrix]

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[pigeonclaw]

I'm like three chapters into Hawkwing's Journey, and this guy is a mess. Clans really need someone with a therapist role lmao.