looking at the bad end au and kicking my feet i love putting characters through The Horrors
anyway imagine a world where instead of trying to bring Cherri back necessarily Apo just wants to get to Cherri, whatever that may mean. (the implication is whatever afterlife they're in but well. reality warping magic doesn't usually care for implications.)
so instead she ends up in skeptic! timeline. can maybe even bring be!cleo along somehow. and sees Cherri, alive and happy, with another version of her. a version that never became the demon they all accused them of being hasn't had a reason to drop the facade.
I do not see this going well for anyone especially skeptic!Apo's lack of belief in the supernatural. it is interesting to think about which of their demon auras would win since be!Apo is more in tune with her powers but skeptic!Apo has home universe advantage. On one hand be!Apo becoming truly human even if just for a bit, not a monster or an outcast or a demon, just a girl. On the other she could try to bring out skeptic!Apo's demonness and convince them that the only way to keep Cherri safe is to kill all the threats before they strike first
(just to be clear i don't think this fits the main au theming and plot AT ALL it's just fun i love evil mirror timelines that are really just tragic)
anyway unrelated do you think hrt worked wayyy better for Apo than it should have because they were like "i should probably have boobs by now right? right." and then she did
Apo is having a nightmare.
This shouldn't rattle her the way it does. She has nightmares most nights, unless Pyro is being a pussy and needs to share a bed. Blurry images of the baptismal basin, her scratchy good clothes she wasn't allowed to run around in, Scott standing in a circle of everyone Apo knows explaining why she's the one in the wrong and all of them nodding along.
This nightmare is crystal clear. She's standing in Oakhurst while it burns, watching herself cradle Cherri's corpse. Apo doesn't look for survivors; she knows there won't be any. The other Apo has horns and fangs and a tail, the other Apo is glowing from within.
"Did we do this?" she asks. The other Apo holds her love out to her. Cherri's head lolls. Her lips are blue; blood trickles from between them.
"Do you think there's any line we wouldn't cross, if she was taken from us?"
"No," Apo says, looking at the body of her love. "Probably not."
If Cherri was taken, she didn't leave willingly. If Cherri was taken, and horrible things were necessary, Apo would do them. If Cherri was taken from her the way she was taken from this nightmare version of her, Apo would kill whoever was responsible.
If Cherri was taken the way the tears streaming down her monstrous self's face suggest, Apo would burn down the world.
(None of this is new information. She's known for years that there is no line she would not cross for Cherri. It's still terrifying, to see what that could make of her; relieving, in a way, to know her other self is just as terrified, buried deep down. To know she stays afraid of herself, even if she can do what she has to.)
"Let me see her," the grieving nightmare begs. "Please, just let me see her. Let me hold her one last time. All I have of her are bones, let me hear her laughter."
(Apo wakes up with tears in her eyes and stumbles her way to Cherri before even getting dressed. Her love laughs at her sudden affection, and they sway together in the kitchen until something deep inside of Apo clicks back into place.)
(It's not like she hasn't had nightmares like that before, after all. She knows how to shake them off. She'll be back to normal in no time at all.)
i have been restraining myself from telling anything about tma to my brother after I accidentally spoiled tim’s death by sending one of my qprs a “TIM STOKER IS FUCKING KAYAKING” post and he worked out tim fucking died
it’s been hell. i NEED to tell my brother about the funny spiral man. ‘teehee’ has been my best deflection against elaboration. my brother would want to work for the magnus archives
When I first watched the last of us I quickly watched the cut scenes from the first game. Than I watched random ones from the second game. Including Joel's death. And god I have never sobbed over a fictional character death this long before. It's been 3 weeks at most and I still cry almost every time I think about it. Or just watch random clips from the game. Like I don't even know why I just do. Like I've cried over fictional characters deaths, but Joel Miller is the first one that I've cried this much for. Like dear fucking god. My very being hurts.
I’m practicing oneshots that I'm also posting on Ao3/FFN, so here’s one of them! I was replaying To The Moon and got inspired by how sad the music can be, and then I cried... and then I wrote this instead of the AOC oneshot I had planned. Also stole the first few notes (and clearly the title) from the song “For River” from that game. You should listen to all of the versions of that song. It’s so good.
Summary: Link has spent his entire life with one woman, but her recent death has him trying to figure out how to move forward when the person he lived for has passed on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Link sat at the piano and stared down at the black and white keys. He knew that there were 88 of them: 52 of them were white keys and 36 were shorter black keys. He knew that each key matched a note on the scale. He knew that multiple notes at once formed a chord. He knew where to place his fingers. He’d known this for all his life.
He just didn’t know what to do with that life now.
Since he was a boy, he’d lived his life for one person. That person had given him more people; children that he’d die for, grandchildren that he’d resolved to live for. But she was gone now. And he wasn’t sure how to go on.
Link knew he had to hit the key for the note to sound. He knew he needed both hands, and he knew that to do that, he had to stop clutching his chest whenever he breathed in or out. It hurt too much, but he knew he had to loosen the fist he had on his shirt. He had to take that breath, no matter how painful.
His finger finally hit the key. It was only the first note: C. He couldn’t bring his finger to the next note, the one adjacent: D.
It was a repeating sequence that he played with his right hand: CDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDA#CDD#.
She always liked to see his hands move wildly across the piano. It was for that reason that he’d tried to avoid chords when he wrote her song. Both of his hands constantly worked their way across the keys, flying up and down the scales, changing the key and the octave just to watch her smile, even if it didn’t sound right together.
She’d lean on his shoulder, and he’d lean into her hands and, she’d watch. Sometimes, she would sit beside him on the bench, one leg pulled up as she leaned against it. But no matter where she was, she was always listening.
Could she hear him now?
He tried again. C.
He set his hands down, and for a moment, he could almost feel her hand ghosting over his, cold as the freezing air of the Hebra mountains, and soft as the snows.
“Play for me,” she’d always say just before taking her seat.
It was her voice in his head that prompted him to move his hands to the keys again. This time, he managed both notes, playing them back and forth without rhythm or timing or speed. Just a back and forth of those two. The effort from even that weighed heavily on him.
“Link?” a small voice had called out, snapping his head up from the piano. He’d turned around to see his neighbor, and now classmate, running up to him, waving wildly. “You play the piano?”
“I can play the Song of Time, and that’s about it.”
She scooted into the seat beside him and beamed, a grin that was missing her front baby tooth, though the new one was already visibly coming in. “I got a little harp. We should play together some time!”
Link looked around at the classroom as it filled with kids. “We… we are going to play together. This is music class.”
“I mean just us, silly!”
“Oh. Okay. It has to be my house, though, because that’s the only piano I have.”
“Sounds good! Maybe this weekend after the new episode of The Champion’s Ballad comes on?”
Link smiled at her. “Sounds good. Maybe we can learn The Song of Storms together?”
“I love that song!”
EFCEFC
He could manage that much.
If she heard him now… gods, he could almost hear her laugh in his ear. She’d be making fun of him for his inability to play. She’d tease him that he’d lost his magic touch. He’d tell her he’s quite competent. She’d scoff.
It took him a few tries to breathe normally again, because though it was in his brain, her laugh wasn’t real anymore. It was an echo that he’d only hear through his own memory, or on tapes he’d kept of them playing together.
His feet lifted off the pedals and took him over to the cardboard box that was under one of the wooden end tables. Wrapped in brown paper were several old cassettes, and he flipped one around to check the label.
Satisfied, he placed it into the player and pressed the button down, waiting for it to roll for a moment.
“I hope this is blank,” he said on the tape.
Link listened silently, his hands clasped over his mouth as her voice came back to him, young and fresh and alive.
“Oh well. It isn’t now!” She laughed.
He missed that most of all. It was the sound of unbridled joy. Contagious. He found himself laughing with her, despite the tears rolling feely down his cheeks.
“Okay, how do you want to do this?” he asked.
She hummed. “I think you should take the lead, maestro. I’ve never written a song.”
“Believe it or not, neither have I.”
“From the horrified look on your face, I do believe it.”
There was a noise, a scrape of wood on wood. “Hey!” he laughed again. “I can’t play with you on top of me.”
“Wrap your arms around me. You can do it. I believe in you, Link.”
For a while, it was only the sound of them laughing. There was the faint, light smack of lips against something before she started to laugh again.
“Link, the tape is running.”
“Stop distracting me, then!”
“Okay, okay.” He remembered that she moved beside him instead.
He hit several notes before finding one he liked. C. Then, CD. Then again. “What do you think?”
“Is that it? That’s my song? Two notes over and over?”
“Yep. Told you I’d write you something, and I did.”
“You’re the worst!” she laughed. “I want to dance to this at our wedding, so make it nice and long!”
There was a long pause on the tape, and Link could vividly remember feeling his heart stop and race all at once. “Our… wedding?”
“Yeah. Obviously. You can’t possibly think that we’re not going to spend the rest of our lives together, right? I mean… right?”
“Yeah. Right. I just… I didn’t know you wanted that. With me.”
She paused this time. “Of course I do. We’ve been friends since we were kids, we’ve been dating for years. I love you. I want to be with you, I always have. Do you?”
“Gods, yes.”
She let out a breath. “Okay. Then Link, will you marry me?”
The scrape of wood and the ensuing thud was Link enthusiastically pushing away from the stool and picking her up.
Link remembered carrying her up the stairs to their room where he said yes to her again and again.
He remembered that they’d come back to the tape recording the sound of nothing, and the next day, they’d recorded more of the piano, of his attempts to write a song worthy of her. A song that he wouldn’t finish for a full year. A song that they danced to at their wedding.
She’d clutched him tight that day. He remembered barely letting go. She was soft, but he melted under her touch. And if anyone ever needed proof that the Goddess existed, they had only to look at her. Not on that day, but every day. He’d always been religious, and he had a feeling it was because he knew what it was like to feel their hand guiding him through the most perfect life.
He’d fall asleep with her and trace the lines of her face to remind himself she was real. He’d wake up beside her, never wishing for another thing besides her health and safety.
Until two years later, when she got pregnant.
Then, he found himself wishing for more than just her health.
They’d both sit by the piano, and she’d rest her eyes, her head on his shoulder, her hand on her stomach. He’d play her song. She said the baby always calmed down when Link played. And it was true when he was born, too.
A fussy baby, one who took after his father, he’d cry and whine and scream until she brought him over to the piano. They’d bought a rocking chair, and she’d sit in it with their son while Link played. From the first C, he’d soften until he laid there, entranced by the melody. Sometimes, he stared wide-eyed. Sometimes, he fell asleep.
When he got older, he and his sister would sit on the floor while Link played. She would lounge on the couch and watch her three loves with wide-eyed adoration.
Link wrote each of the children a song of their own. They both danced to that song at their own weddings while their parents watched on with pride, hands clasped tightly together.
That’s the way they held hands in the hospital as well when the doctors told them the news. She didn’t cry that day, but he did. He’d never really stopped. And they’d sat together in the bed in each others’ arms, talking about their life together.
And then one morning, he woke up realizing that he hadn’t paid special attention to the last time he’d held her tight, because it had been the last time. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made her laugh. He knew he’d done it, but he couldn’t remember the words he’d used.
And he couldn’t remember the last time they sat at the piano together. Had he played her song for her while she rested her head on his shoulder?
Link moved back to the piano, setting his hands down on the keys with more determination this time. But the beginning failed him. Instead, he played a piece from the middle: BDAGABDA.
Silent Princess flowers: the same she’d carried at their wedding. The same that she’d decorated the table with. They lined her casket.
He’d needed to stay strong that day. That day, when he thought he was at his weakest, he needed to stay strong. In each arm, he hugged one of his children. He soothed them and reminded them that things would be okay one day. He didn’t believe his own words for a second, but it seemed to calm them down. He rubbed their backs.
He hadn’t realized that the funeral wasn’t the worst day.
It was the day after. And the day after that.
It was the day-to day routine that usually had her in it. The television shows that they used to watch together. The music they’d sing to. The songs he’d played. The meals he ate alone. The worst day was every day while he figured out how to live them all without her.
Six months to the day, and he still wasn’t sure he’d figured out what that meant. He’d lived far more of his life with her in it than without her. He’d lived and breathed for her.
And she was just… gone.
So, to bring her back, if only in his mind, he played CDCDCDCDCD again.
He heard her laugh.
He remembered her tears.
He held her hand.
And he cried onto the keys as the pain in his chest suffocated him with every breath.
But he’d done it.
For the first time since she’d been gone, he played through her song.
As he sat back on the bench, he smiled. He could feel her with him again. And it prompted him to play the song again, and again, and again until his fingers ached. Because he felt alive again for the first time since she’d died. He felt her again.
And the next day, he’d played her song and ate breakfast. And watched his show. He accidently called out to her to jokingly show her a commercial she hated, and he sat and cried harder than before, but once he could breathe again, he went back to the piano and played. And he told her about the commercial.
And each day, the tasks hurt less and less.
The pain never went away. It never stopped hurting. But he had his kids. He had his grandkids. In their smiles, he could see hers. In their eyes, he could see hers glistening back.
Sometimes, it hurt to look at them. Most of the time, it made him believe that she was truly with them all.
One day, while he was at his piano, the oldest of his grandkids came up and sat beside him. Her hair was golden, and her eyes green. She looked the most like her. It was uncanny, and Link wondered if even a shred of his genetics had made its way to his grandchild.
“Grandpappy?” she asked, her voice high with youth and curiosity.
“Hmm?”
“What are you playing? You always play that song.”
“I wrote it for your grandma.”
“I wish I knew her more.”
Link let out a deep breath. “She loved you all so much. I can tell you about her.”
“Will you?”
He nodded, and set his hands on the keys, playing softly as he spoke. “We met when we were younger than you, so I knew her my whole life. And she was the kindest woman… besides your mother… there ever was. She was smart. So smart. Like you. And she was kind. And beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. And I selfishly thought I could capture her essence in a song. But it never did her justice.”
“I think it’s pretty though! It’s kind of sad.”
“It used to be happier.”
“Because you’re still sad?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“But you’re happy too, right?”
He chuckled and gave her a hug. “I am happy too. We can be both.”
She looked at him for a long time before turning to the piano. “Will you teach me to play? I want to play that song.”
“It takes years to learn to play. Do you really want to?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. We can start tomorrow when you all come over.”
“Thanks!” she said, hopping off the bench and skipping away.
But he heard her stop.
“Hey Grandpappy?”
“Yes?”
“What’s her song called?”
Link had to take another deep breath. Because in all the time she’d been gone, he hadn’t needed to say her name. He hadn’t spoken it aloud. He hadn’t been able to. But as he looked at her wide eyes, he realized it was time.
(Cause yes i like to give spoiler warnings even if the game is over 10 years old.)
Because i just need to talk about Shinjiro. Half the time I talk about the fact that you can prevent his death in p3p i manage to see someone talk about how it "goes against the theme of the game."
And on the surface i get it. Persona 3 heavily revolves around death and fate and often how death is inescapable and yes it does change the impact. (Like the funeral scene is powerful, and i kinda wish they changed the immediately following events a bit nore, but i digress). Persona 3 also focuses on being able to defy fate and the benefits of bonds with people. The ability to save people who have bonded with your party falls fully in line with the games theme and the fact that you have to act intentionally act in order to save him makes it unlikely to max him on a blind run. (With the introduction of Ken and Koromaru's social links at the same time there are a lot of distractions plus there is initially no reason to think to prioritize him.)
I would actually argue that saving Shinji (and Chidori, but I have slightly different opinions there) actually makes the endgame hit harder. So far you've been able to save everyone. (Except Mitsuru's dad since that has a direct impact on the plot (though if they found a way to hold all the plot points and keep him alive too I wouldn't be mad) and Akinari since that is his entire social link.)
You can even defy "fate" again and save the entire damn world. If you do everything right and with all the persistence the protagonist has the ability to change people's fate. However in the end the only one you can not save is yourself. And thats I think where the key memento mori theme comes in, because its not just that everyone will die. Momento Mori is to remember YOU will die. Persona 3 circles directly around the protagonist. The story is yours and your death is the one that brings the story to the end.
