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Oh my heavens, over eight thousand five hundred comments in the last post alone. I feel so tardy and yet I briefly felt compelled to wait until we had over nine thousand, hoohoo~! Oh, even the oldest of memes gets a rise out of my... big and manly heart.
SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI: PERSONA 4 KINK MEME
PART FOURTo beat the dead horse (or beat off the ( Read more... )
SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI: PERSONA 4 KINK MEME
PART FOURTo beat the dead horse (or beat off the ( Read more... )
Seta Souji cooks very well. Seta Souji is a star athlete. Seta Souji is good with his hands. Seta Souji is far more mature then his peers. Seta Souji is always at the top of his class; he intelligent and his answers rarely incorrect.
Seta Souji was almost perfect.
Fact is, Souji doesn't try very hard to make friends, not since his fourth year of elementary school. The reality of his parents' job kept illusions such as lasting friendships and romantic interests at bay. There is no point in trying to maintain bonds that has an expiry date of a few months, after all. He is a practiced drifter; there is no place on this world where he calls home.
Then came the sleepy little town of Inaba. Or rather, he went to it, while his parents sailed overseas; money is always needed, and there would only be more expenses spent if he left Japan with them (and despite the fact that he has no rooted home, he still wasn't ready to leave the only place he had known). He had resigned himself to the fate of living with, but not knowing the uncle and cousin he is going to stay with; of making acquaintances, not friends in school; of spending his weekends holed up in his room, studying; of living his life in the dull circle he had always expected.
He had never been so grateful to learn that he was wrong.
Sorry for this crap.. there might be some more *hides*
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I'd love to see more, keep it up!
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When she was younger, her mother loved to cook, and Ai enjoyed good food; that was back when things always worked themselves out naturally. She gave love, was loved in return and that was good enough.
Junior High was when it all changed. It was the first time Ai found out there are unspoken standards in the world, and she’s not up to it. (Piggyhara, Piggyhara sings the cute, skinny girls in her class; Ai has no choice but to listen to their sneers, spine curling and turns her face away to hide the tears.)
She spent those days by herself, drifting in and out but never escaping the taunts. Everyone joined in; girls snicker behind her back where she could see them; boys fling slurs about her figure in her face; even teachers slide their gaze off her like water off the ugly duckling’s back.
Yamano laughed at her with the other boys, but he’s kind to her when the others aren’t around. He never started the taunts, unlike all the others. Yamano was different, Ai’s sure of it. If she gave love, she would be loved in return, right? (Piggyhara, Piggyhara shouts the boy she thought she loved; Ai hears the echo of her broken heart tinkling in the space between them.)
Then there was another shift. Her family has gotten their lucky break, and the other children hated her even more. Finally, fed up with all the cutting remarks of their family, they had moved to Inaba. A small town where nobody knew her and Ai knew what she had to do to become good enough.
She threw herself into diets and devoted her entire being to following the girls in fashion magazines because only skinny, pretty girls stand a chance in the world; she will become one of them. (Piggyhara, Piggyhara rings in her ears; now she can stand up and smash the brittle taunt into a million tiny pieces.)
She is better than all of them, the frumpy girls and plain boys in an outdated town. But she’s still alone.
Denial
You want to leave them all behind and lose yourself in a swarm of people.
You want to be everyone’s friend and hate everyone.
You want to be special and be indistinct.
You want to blend into a crowd and shine like a bright star.
You want her to adore you and treat you with indifference.
You want to loathe him and love him.
Hanamura Yosuke has always been good at lying to himself. He has no intention of stopping until he couldn’t anymore.
Desire
She looks at the girls in Yasogami High and envies their youth; the softness of their hair, the suppleness of their skin, the fullness of their lips, the brightness of their eyes.
Twenty years ago, Noriko would have been like that. Could have had any man she wanted, once upon a time. She threw away many for the one, and look where it got her. Time is cruel; it's far too late to reclaim what should have been hers now, no matter how hard she tries. Fading stardust melts in her hands and she is left grappling muddy snow in one fist and a soiled bridal garter in the other.
There might be one more part... I hope I didn't fuck anyone up too badly!
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Mayumi is gone because of him. Because he hadn’t acted to save her, was too stupid to move and protect her. It was his fault.
Her shows were cancelled, her name spat on and dragged into the dirt. Mayumi was crying, eyes red and voice raw. That was his fault too.
Even then, she still loved him. And how did he repay her?
(I’m sorry, Mayumi.
But ‘sorry’ would never be enough...)
He should have known he didn’t deserve her.
All his fault.
He’ll make sure no one else will feel his grief ever again. He will save them all; from pain, from guilt, from death.
The girl was smiling in the TV; she looked so happy in there, unlike Mayumi who had screamed and begged and cried. Amagi was happy in there, safe, peals of laughter tinkling like silver bells of future weddings reserved for a time when the scandal died down.
Alive.
(I’m sorry, Mayumi.
I didn’t save you…)
He will atone for his sin. Here and thereafter.
He will.
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Determination
Three years, five months and twenty-one days (thirteen-hours-and-forty-eight-minutes) ago, Dojima Chisato was killed in a hit-and-run incident. Dojima Ryōtaro had lost a wife and Dojima Nanako a mother on that sunny day.
They get by, although sometimes (only all the time) Ryōtaro comes home late, wearing the scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol like an expensive cologne and bleeding frustration all over the floors.
A manila folder is hidden in the drawer of his desk. He takes it out when he thinks no one is watching.
Sightings of a white sedan crowd the front. Newspaper clippings dated with 11th June 2008 clamor in the middle. Chisato sits quietly at the back.
Sometimes he feels her eyes burning into his skull when he wants to give up, after another late night with a sake bottle, out of grief and out of leads.
(So he doesn’t.)
Three years, five months and twenty-one days later (and the day after, and the day after), Ryōtaro is still chasing the phantom killer.
Decent
Izanami-no-Mikoto was once a sister.
They had been the first of their kind, reclining on trodden damp clouds. The days were long: they had all the time in the world, and nothing to do.
If she wished hard enough, he would weave flowers in her hair, a shine of sleek sliver crowned in a halo of gold. She sat in the circle of his arms.
He pats her head then, mindful of the fragile threads coiled around her tresses, and she kisses his cheek.
The night turns over, fish-belly white in a star storm.
He took her hand and they danced across the splitting sea.
Izanami-no-Okami was once a lover.
She was married. She gave birth. She died. He came to get her.
And when he saw her he screamed and fled, branding one eternal stretch of sun a molted grey.
She had thought she was trapped forever to lap at darkness with a tightening throat for eternity, a thousand lifetimes ago. Hands scrabbling at the dark moss on the boulder splashed with liver spots -
(a thousand lives, she screamed and screamed,
her decaying voice peeled black.
He shrugged, leaving final memories in the padding of his feet among whispering reeds,
a song of brittle bones cawing against granite)
- at the base of Yomotsu Hirasaka.
When she resurfaces again, the accursed place will not be a cave, but a flat plain that stretches wide as eternity, blue as sky.
Izanami was once a mother.
She likes to think that she still is, that she is still remembered. (The children of Man are just that, children; had he forgotten that his children are hers too?
Children she fought and died for?
He must have.
Bastard.
A thousand more will swim in Yomi when the heavy night comes.
Because -)
All mothers love their children.
She will grant their wish to float in the dense fog until their disputes all blur together and disappear.
They want serenity and obliteration.
She delivers.
Let no one say she is not an indulgent mother.
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Ohtani Hanako wants a great many things.
She wants that bubble-bath set she saw on display in Junes. She wants the new dress on the rack. She wants soft, fluffy slippers. She wants longer hair that is curly and not in such a boring shade. She wants to have bigger eyes and a smaller nose. She wants diets to work, sometimes, when she’s too tired to think. She wants to look pretty, have someone finally say “hey, you’ve got a really nice smile” just once without the inevitable “but there’s just too much of you everywhere” and the sniggers that follow her around. Maybe having Seta pay attention to her would be nice too.
But more than anything in the world, she wants to be born during the Heian period. She can really be proud of herself, then.
When Hanako was ten years old, her mother had told her (very gently, almost lullaby-soft) that the women - and men, she added hastily - in their family are big-boned. This meant that it’ll be harder to buy the cute clothes all the other girls wear for her and her uniforms will have to be made specially; the other children will make fun of her. “It’ll be hard. But you mustn’t let them get to you,” kaa-chan said with a voice of steel under layers of velvet, large hands combing through Hanako’s hair. Weaving a ribbon into thick plaits, she continued, “Because no matter what everyone else says, you’re my beautiful daughter, and don’t you forget that.” Hanako had nodded back then, only half understanding what her mother said.
When she was thirteen, Hanako had her heart broken for the first time and finally understood what her mother meant. Her aunt, who was visiting, took her aside and wiped her tears away, while her mother brought in warm tea, plum cakes and a stack of faux-Heian prints. “Look,” she pointed at a large lady wrapped in royal purple silk, sitting calm and poised beside her lord, a picture of elegance. “Isn’t she beautiful?” And Hanako looked and looked again, not understanding why the woman captured in ink before her could be called beautiful while she was called a “beach whale”, even though their bodies looked exactly alike. Her (fat, disgusting, ugly) tears rolled down her cheeks again: plop, plop, plop they go, blurring the ink and wobbling the paper, just slightly.
(The paper dries crooked and the stray blue-black wisps cannot be coaxed back into something priceless.)
Her mother combed through her hair, murmuring gently, and her aunt chimed in with a soft “don’t worry, Haha-chan. You’ll find someone who isn’t seduced by appearances someday, and that’ll be a truer love than what the other girls have.” And you try and try and try again until you find him, or slip away resigned.
In that room on a sleepy afternoon, two women huddled close to a crying girl, soothing raw, wounded nerves until Hanako believes in herself again, scrubs her face, takes a plum cake, washes it down with lukewarm tea; when she looks at the gorgeous, heavy women in the prints, she sees a little of herself in them too.
(But aunt Mika lied. Fat girls are never the beloved.
This is the thing they can’t have.
No matter how much they want it.)
When she was sixteen, Hanako knows - for sure - that while she wants many things, most of the things she wants she can’t have.
Fine. So be it. At least she has herself. She tries to not mind the slurs because she has to better than all of them, is better than all of them (see, see? You can’t get to me! You can’t you can’t you can’t and maybe if I said it enough you’ll leave me alone); they’re just all jealous that she’s comfortable with herself, and with this conviction she shuts out the hurtful words, going through another day.
Then everything is quiet for a while, until the next time she wants again.
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Honestly, I felt kinda bad for Izanami, after I've done the research. Izanagi was an ass to her. (This didn't make it in the story, but apparently Susanoo threw a tantrum in order to get his father to banish him to Haha no Kuni, where Izanami had lived before she was trapped in Yomi, because he wanted to be closer to his (non-biological) mother. That boy's an asshole to his sister, but sweet in his own way, I guess.)
I was disappointed to learn that Hanako isn't a S.Link in the game; she's just supposed to be a mean fat girl who's BFFs with a slutty teacher. It's pretty ironic, considering the theme of the game is to 'pursue your true self and look beyond the surface'. And while we're on topic, I actually wanted a teacher S.Link - a Morooka S.Link would be glorious.
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