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Valentine's DaySo, Valentine's Day... what the...
"... hell am I s'pose to do!?" Kanji exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. On the other end of the phone line, he heard Souji say 'Ow'. He probably pulled the phone away from his ear even. Kanji slumped against his bed, his voice muffled as he spoke again.
"I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"W-What do I get 'er? I can't think of anythin' thass right!" Kanji exclaimed, lifting his head from the bedding, "She ain't into any of that... y'know..."
"She's not into candy, flowers, or toys."
"Exactly," Kanji groaned, rubbing his forehead. He was a bit upset though; he had been making a doll for Naoto, but while they were talking with Rise... she had said right then and there, dolls were 'pointless. I don't understand how they appeal to anyone.' It crushed him a bit, but the desperation in her voice to get Rise off their case about the day for lover's made him wonder.
"... Kanji, Valentine's Day isn't supposed to be for the materials between you two.
COM: Naoto x Kanji : Return to InabaReturn to Inaba ~ a Persona 4 fanfic
Naoto x Kanji
Commission for TheLonelyMoon
The Junes food court
This place certainly brought back memories.
It had been just over a year now since I'd left Inaba, to go and work on cases elsewhere; it seemed needless to stay in that town any longer, since we'd solved the Midnight Channel murders. I had only gone to stay there for that reason, after all.
Now, being back, and hearing that all-too-familiar tune it just felt a little surreal.
My time away had given me the chance to re-evaluate my aspirations, and also myself as a person. Being involved in the investigation with Yu-sempai and the others had taught me a lot; but personally, I felt I had matured even further over the last year, in more aspects than one
Following the encounter with my so-called shadow self, it had taken me a while to settle on an image I could be satisfied with: presenting myself for what I really was a girl; or more accuratel
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
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