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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

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Wednesday Addams, with a Male!Reader that is like Goro Majima

Just wanna know how much of pure wackiness it can get at Nevermore especially with our main characters bc of Y/N.

I’m doing this in a headcannon format cuz I’ve got some ideas on the chaos Majima!Reader would get into. Most of these are pranks but some (like maybe 2/3) are references to the shit he’s done in the games. (1. dressed up as a girl. 2.hide in a trash can for Kiriyu and 3. driving a vehicle into a building.)

Also warning: quite fucking long cuz I went away with the fairies a little bit.

I feel like when you first met Wednesday you were laying down in a makeshift grave you’ve dug yourself on school grounds. Why? It doesn’t really matter as for the reasoning behind the action since you did things purely by impulse. many people have decided to give up in trying to figure you out because your personality often changed on a dime; making you quite the dangerous enigma.

Also some rules were set in place because of you. What an icon. We love to see it.

“What is your purpose?”

“I dunno.” You shrug, beaming up at her with a crazed grin.

“Seems like a waste of a grave.” She said, watching as you dug yourself out with a grunt, uncaring of the dirt that clung to your clothes nor how it got under your nails from your climb out. She the noticed you kneeling down next to the grave and pulling out your signature metal bat. Her dark eyes brightened with intrigue.

“Were you planning on burying someone alive?” Wednesday questions with slight interest. You shrug again before looking down at the grave that you suddenly grown bored of and sighed, hauling your bat so that it rested against your shoulder as you walked off. “It’s all yours, I’ve grown bored and besides Weems says I should reconsider the type of pranks I pull but,” you turned to look at Wednesday over your shoulder, “where’s the fun in that.” You flashed another crazed grin before walking off to who knows where, “See ya new kid.”

“It’s Wednesday-.” She goes to tell you but you seemed to have disappeared without much of a trace. Xavier, who was passing by, notes her confusion and the empty 6ft plot of dug up soil next to her and immediately knew you were behind such an expression.

“You met y/n. Didn’t you?” He asked her.

“Is that his name, he’s quite the character.” Wednesday mused, your unpredictable nature and aloof personality made you stand out even in a school for outcasts. Your mental state must be quite the minefield for Kinbott to navigate if digging up plots of land for a prank was your rendition of fun.

Xavier scoffs, “you could say that again, he once put an eyesore of a canvas in my art studio one day and when I got a loser look at it. Y/n opened his eyes, scaring me shitless, before jumped away from the canvas, his whole body was caked from head to toe in paint, and pushed me over my stool with the end of his metal bat.” Xavier subconsciously rubbed the small of his back. “Bastard then ran out of the shed, laughing hysterically…fucking psycho.”

“Interesting, maybe this school won’t be so dull as I first interpreted.” Wednesday said, uncaring of the story Xavier was telling her before walking off, leaving him befuddled. Afterwards Wednesday would asked Enid, Ajax, Eugene, hell evenTyler about you to which they were all quick to look in every direction incase you were somehow nearby before speaking their peace about you.

Enid said that you were a loose cannon, an unstoppable force of pure chaos. Yet you had a charm that would swoon boys, girls and others alike and make everyone forget that your mind was the equivalent of a bagful of rabid raccoons; You protected those who needed to be protected even though your methods were quite…extreme, seeing as your weapons of choice was a metal bat that didn’t bend after a couple of bludgeoning blows and a collection of knives. This earned you the monicure of ‘the mad dog of Nevermore.’

You scared the poor daylights out of her and Yoko one day by dressing yourself up in a white wedding gown you somehow obtained, splashed large quantities of red food dye across it to make it look like bloodstains; you even went as far as to buy a reduced Halloween makeup kit to replicate slash marks across your neck and face whilst also putting in milky white eye contacts. You had a story made up and everything about being a poor innocent normie who got stood up at the alter by her husband and then was later killed by something beastly. (It was a bear but you liked to keep it anonymous for more authenticity.)

Before this however, you told this story to the girls one night at a campfire and with the help of some of your friends in making bushes rustle, twigs snapping and other various noises. You then ventured into the woods to ‘investigate’ much to Yoko and Enid’s dismay before quickly changing and hastily putting on a wig ontop of your head and rushing back out towards the campfire, screaming. Sending the poor girls running to their shared tent. When they found that it was just you, they gave you the silent treatment for such a cruel prank.

Ajax would find you chill for the most part but once you frightened him so badly by sneaking into the shower room late one night and stuffing yourself into a cramp bin where you stayed hidden until he got out of the shower, jumping out screaming ‘boo!’ Ajax was taken off guard that badly that he accidentally stoned not just you but himself by looking directly in the mirror. Oops.

Eugene actually had nothing but good things to say about you, funnily enough to Wednesday’s surprise. At this point she found out that you were quite the trickster and an advent fan for the morbid and the macabre. However Eugene’s tales concerning you were times where you brutally beaten up normies and bullies alike for picking on him. You even suggested that he helped you in getting even by setting up a bucket load of pollen/honey that once it’s contents were dumped upon their intended victims, Eugene would them send out a small swarm of bees to chase the off.

You treated Eugene like a little brother and so whoever messed with him, messes with you also; Eugene couldn’t help but view you as the brother he always wanted. While that didn’t mean he was exempt from your shenanigans but you tended to hold yourself back when it came to Eugene. Everyone left Eugene alone because of you and in payment, Eugene would often gift you a bottle of honey as a thank you for standing by him no matter what.

Tyler doesn’t like you.

You don’t like Tyler and you made that evidently clear by doing things like breaking into Weathervane and badly busting up the coffee machine or stealing sums of money out of the area where the bottom drawer of the registers were kept, so that when he opens up in the morning he’d be in big shit with his shift manager. Did you potentially get put into jail for this? Maybe but that nor Principle Weems’ warnings of your potential expulsion did nothing to deter you from fucking shit up for Jericho and it’s residence.

We don’t talk about the time you drove a forklift into Crackstone’s statue one Outreach day, toppling it over and cracking the head away from it’s body before using said head with the forklift and sending it crashing into the city hall. You got into some BIG trouble for that stunt.

No one knew how you became the person that you were but not many dared to ask in fear that it may bring up old wounds that you’d rather left alone. So when Wednesday decided that instead of deciding whether or not she should get close to you based solely on potentially fabled stories, she would go out of her way and join you in a joint effort of making the citizens of Jericho’s life absolute hell.

But there are days where she saw the softer side of you where you weren’t all crazy eyed or trigger happy. You were smart and willing aided her in her investigation about the Hyde and Laurel Gates; Even after nearly dying in the Gates’ family home. “Why are you still helping me? You nearly died.” She’d ask not long after Enid rightfully scolded her for being so careless with human life.

You shrugged, only to wince when you moved your clawed arm from protecting Wednesday. “I don’t mind getting a little hurt if it means bringing us closer to the truth and besides,” you pulled something out from your backpack, it was a small airtight sealed bag containing a clump of the Hydes fur, “I got you some more physical evidence.” Wednesday didn’t know whether to punch you for getting hurt in getting her more evidence or kiss you for getting hurt for her in getting more evidence.

#wednesday addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #wednesday imagine #Wednesday imagines #Wednesday fic #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday x you #Wednesday Addams x you #wednesday x male reader #Wednesday Addams x male reader

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izusun · 3 years ago

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Goblin anon here absolutely screeching over feral quirkless Midoriya, it's everything I wanted

I would like to also introduce a brand (my brand) of feral to Midoriya: pyromaniac.

Imagine Midoriya getting through the entrance exam by saving people, but also by bringing makeshift Molotov cocktails and wrecking almost as much shop as Bakugou.

Imagine the battle trials where Bakugou tries to blow up the building because "that's the only way to keep this little shit down" and in response Midoriya dodges and then sets the building on fire.

Imagine the USJ incident, which goes about the same, but his first instinct is to set the Noumu on fire. Yes he does so. He also nearly sets the stadium on fire at the sports festival so much that they had to evacuate sections of the stadium.

Midoriya (say it with me now) sets Stain on fire. When Tsukauchi meets with the murder trio after the Hosu incident, he just sighs and is like "Midoriya, really?" And this is when we learn that Midoriya has a history of coming across random villains and setting them on fire. When Inko arrives to pick him up she's just like "You're grounded."

There's theories about what Midoriya's quirk, everything from increased intelligence to extremely shitty luck to the ability to make anything he touches explodes (due to his inane ability to make a bomb/lighter out of the most insane things). When it comes out that he's quirkless, it just makes everyone even more afraid, as Midoriya can make a bomb out of some LSD and a rubber duck quirkless-

Pyromaniac quirkless Midoriya.

- Goblin anon

GOBLIN ANON IT’S BEEN AGES IM SORRY IM JUST RESPONDING NOW (ive been so bad at responding asks my god i struggle but thank u for ur au dumps, i love loVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!)

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS AU

feral quirkless gremlin midoriya going through shit by setting things on fire is just the way to go im duwldjwksk

i read midoriya with molotov cocktails and i have not stopped simping for and thinking about this midoriya

genuinely swooning at this ver of him

midoriya probably has a collection of lighters and basically does those hand tricks to calm him down or to take his mind off of things

bakugou and midoriya being more familiar with each other in their middle school days compared to canon and bakugou gifting midoriya with personalized all might lighter god that’s adorable

ok but they’re talking about their favourite heroes and bakugou goes, “shocking that you don’t like endeavour.”

and midoriya just shrugs, twisting his hand and fingers to orchestrate the fire’s dance from his lighter, his viridian eyes brighter and says, “his fire feels wrong.” and they leave it at that

midoriya being inspired by bakugou’s explosions and attempting to copy those so bad that bakugou thought midoriya’s trying out for support classes

OK BUT FIGHT WITH SLUDGE VILLAIN?

he yanks out makeshift molotov cocktails from his bag, lights them up and throws them at the bastard. the sludge villain screams and retreats slightly because not only was he facing the fires but also the exploded glass shards. it gave enough time for bakugou to explode the villain and escape enough to allow him to breathe. in the end, all might still defeats the sludge but he misses bakugou and midoriya who escaped. no ofa for firey green bean.

bakugou helping midoriya create more explosions.

“but kacchba i want fire, not explosions!”

“same difference you pyro asshole!”

midoriya learns them anyways and enjoys it.

THE EXAM!!

i have two ways:

one: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed support items and they allowed him and they watched in shock as this little boy explodes the arena worse than the explosion-quirked student. of course he passes and aizawa took him on as his student.

two: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed his support items but the staff did NOT allow him because they’re considered weapons (as if quirks are not genetic weapons but i DIGRESS) and so when the exam starts, he stays at the very back of the other examinees. this was so that when he arrives at the scene, there are already spare parts for him to scavenge so that he can build makeshift explosions (foregoing whatever shit he learned from katsuki because all that’s on his mind right now are molotov cocktails)

so that’s what happens. he scavenges parts and hides inside one of the buildings so that he can focus more on making explosions and be less worried about being attacked. when he was fully geared, he steps out and begins to retaliate.

he works fast as to not waste his time and the makeshift explosions. because of this, others (ahem-aoyama-ahem) had no opportunity to steal his score.

same thing happens: uraraka gets caught and midoriya explodes the zero pointer. this time, however, the robot is utterly destroyed.

aizawa and majima saw midoriya’s performance, adored it, and began fighting for midoriya.

“majima, he’s here for the hero classes.”

“great. now give him to me.”

nezu pretends that he’s not planning on splitting midoriya’s schedule anyways.

BATTLE TRIAL OH MY GOD rip all might i bet you keeled over so bad, you were one second from turning to small might there and then.

all might: ok so one explodey kid to look out for. that’s not bad.

all might, one minute later: this green kid looks familiar…

all might, ten minutes later: what the fuck.

NO BECAUSE bakugou and midoriya being excited to explode things (well, more like midoriya’s excited and bakugou just wants to fight midoriya) and having a blast when fighting each other.

1a’s probably thinking “oh no” followed by “they’re hot” (literally too because yk the building’s on fire.)

MIDORIYA EXPLODING THE NOUMU??? king shit

midoriya saw this monster running to aizawa and he just points a more eloquent looking flame thrower (thank u mei for working with midoriya with that) at this beast and sets it on fire.

it effectively slowed the noumu and gave the others an opportunity to pull aizawa from the hit zone. it also granted all might more freedom when fighting the noumu because it was slowed enough that all might didn’t have to worry about exceeding his time limit.

the fire damaged some of its nerve processes that the scientist and afo had not accounted for. of course this review is returned to them and many of the noumus become fireproof because of this incident.

OK BUT DURING THE SPORTS FEST

midoriya crushing on todoroki because fire.

he was actually very interested in todoroki prior to sports fest but something about todoroki’s fight against sero sparked something more in midoriya. midoriya saw the anger from his ice, now he wants to see the same intensity from his fire.

his spiel of “that’s your power, todoroki” goes differently. todoroki still pulls him aside and trauma dumps on him but this time he goes, without missing a beat, “that fire is a waste on you.”

todoroki full body pauses because that’s not something he’s ever, well, considered to hear after trauma dumping.

“what?” he croaks, confused at the bubbling feeling. it’s a miasma of anger and hurt, but to a scale so unfamiliar.

midoriya shrugs. “fire is unique, more so as an elemental quirk. you think it doesn’t make half of you—well, i mean you’re right. it doesn’t. you make it. you control it. fire is often uncontrollable and yet here you are, having it as your power. it’s yours to control, so control it. use it.”

todoroki’s ears are ringing.

“you have it as your power.”

“so control it.”

and so he did.

midoriya watched todoki’s fire; watched the way the flames lick up up up and leaves no air bathed in heat. midoriya sees the rawness of anger and determination and thinks, “this is how fire should always look like.”

unconsciously he also thinks how todoroki’s fire is far more beautiful than endeavour’s.

midoriya loses and he’s not as sad about it. losing to something sentient (fire, not todoroki), for him, is a blessing.

todoroki advances along with bakugou.

bakugou who is jealous of todoroki because he saw how midoriya eyed todoroki’s fire and knew todoroki’s a competition in other more ways.

bakugou wins again, this time less angry because todoroki used his fire against him.

STAIN THINKING MIDORIYA’S JUST THIS WEIRD HERO STUDENT WHO HAS NO SPECIFIC QUIRK UNTIL HE FEELS FLAME KISS HIS SKIN AND SCREAMS BECAUSE DAMN IT GREEN EYED KID JUST SET HIM ON FIRE

todoroki full on pausing because he thought he’s the one who set stain on fire unconsciously only to follow the fire’s trail and sees it’s from one of midoriya’s many support items.

“shoot i didn’t mean to burn him that fast!”

“that’s your issue!?”

midoriya gives them a “duh?” look and todoroki feels himself warming up (HAH another fire pun) at midoriya’s ease.

flying noumi still comes and picks him up but midoriya also sets this thing on fire. the difference between a winged noumu and a normal noumu is that the wings are far more flammable and midoriya had quite a bit of fun at setting it on fire and hearing the crackling of flames on rubbery wings.

endeavour casts him a glance that speaks of approval and midoriya doesn’t know if he hates it or not.

tsukauchi arrives and sees not only stain, but the noumu and heaves up a very big sigh. “midoriya, really?”

GOBLIN! PYROMANIAC QUIRKLESS MIDORIYA IZUKU IS A FAVE IM SCREAMING

#goblin anon #ask #IM BACK W GOBLIN RAMBLINGS #god im still simping for tbis midoriya #goblin anon KNOWS where to HIT what a fella #bnha #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #slight #bakudeku #and #tododeku

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benichi · 4 years ago

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I played Chou no Doku (so you don’t have to) - Mizuhito’s Route Part 4

The Finale. Let’s finally get this over with. Here’s the link to the [last part].

Yuriko made her way to Majima’s quarters in order to ask him about going to the Brothel in Mizuhito’s stead. Majima remarks that it would be better to just let her Brother know about what’s going on, but Yuriko starts freaking out and acting like a jealous child again. She sure got a lot of trust for her beloved Brother. Ultimately Majima agrees to go and Yuriko ends up reminiscing about the feelings she used to harbor towards him

Sure, it’s his fault now.

On the next day Kyoko decides to pay the siblings a visit, however, she requests to only speak with Yuriko. With just the two of them she reveals that Kyoko’s well aware of the things that are going on between our Brother and Sister.

Her “romance senses” were tingling apparently. Though to be honest considering how the two of them are acting you don’t need to be a genius to figure out what’s going on. Kyoko also reveals that she a... relationship dealer? Basically she arranges fake marriages that allow cover ups for illict relationships of whatever sort. Mizuhito eventually shows up and pretty much kicks Kyoko out. Which has Yuriko frantically going after her, since she does consider her offer. Outside she meets Majima who’s back from his “errand”, stating that the Geisha did in fact not have one of Mizuhito’s belongings but simply wanted to get him to visit. She gave Majima a comb that he’s supposed to pass on to Mizuhito. Yuriko goes inside to hide the comb but meets Mizuhito on the way

She slips it into her... Ouch. That’s dedication.

They have another painting session, but Mizuhito soon starts asking questions about their current situation.

Romantic. Obviously she doesn’t tell him that though, but the following:

Me avoiding my responsibilities. She literally dodged his question because she knows she wouldn’t have. While trying to get up Yuriko ends up dropping the comb and Mizuhito immediately recognizes it. Though not mad he does confront her and Yuriko laments that she was scared of losing him forever.

No, he doesn’t talk about eloping Yuriko. It’s coming guys: close your eyes, hide your children. The moment this game has been building up for has come: The smex. And while we don’t get the full smex we do get enough to count our lucky stars that we don’t have to sit through the entirety of the “act”.

Things you should say before smex:

Things you should not say before smex:

Followed by things you should not say during smex:

Concluded by things you should not say after smex:

Kinda? Luckily that’s it (for now at least).

The following day Mizuhito holes himself up in his room to finish the painting. When Yuriko calls him for dinner he suggests they go out to eat something. On their way they run into the Proprietress of the Brothel he used to frequent. She remarks that she noticed something odd about Majima when she saw him a few days ago and that he may be involved in dangerous affairs, such as dealing with Opium. After the Proprietress excused herself Yuriko noticed that Mizuhito did not introduce her as his sister.

Because these two go so well together.

They conclude that confronting Majima head on is a bad idea. Mizuhito eventually tells Yuriko to head back without him first. She decides that this is the time to play Detective and find out more about Majima. Fujita says that he actually doesn’t know much about Majima either. Apparently he does fequently take time off however, so Fujita says it’s not impossible he’s doing something on the side.

Yeah mess with the potentially dangerous guys room. Great idea. So Yuriko starts sniffing around (quite literally) .

So apparently Yuriko goes around sniffing men’s rooms in her pastime if she’s got that much ground for comparison. But moving on, obviously she doesn’t find anything just lying around. What a shocker. Her “I’m the Heroine of this story” genes kick in however, so as she knocks one of his Kimonos to the ground something falls out of it. Mind you, that is a pretty dumb hiding spot so I guess she wasn’t that far off after all. We don’t get to find out what she found yet though, because she’s interrupted by a loud noise.

Once outside Yuriko finds that the entire Manor is on fire. Majima magically appears and seems rather calm as Yuriko freaks out. He steadies her but is quickly interrupted by Mizuhito who screams at him to let her go. Majima taunts him by saying that he didn’t even think it possible that Mizuhito can run.

Hello 911. There’s a fire and a murder.

Mizuhito reveals that all of the things the Proprietress said are true. In fact he’s not just any Opium dealer, Majima is referred to as the “King” (agshskdl sorry I had to laugh). He got the information from one of his previous clients, revealing that Mizuhito would sell his body a times in order to protect his sister and help with the debt. Majima comments on the relationship between the two “siblings” and becomes super mad about it.

Tbh when I read this for the first time I had to read it twice to check if it’s really Majima speaking. His reaction makes more sense if you know the grand scheme of the game (I’ll add a link with my verdict later). But yeah moving on Mizuhito exclaims that the only filthy one is him and that Yuriko is a pure Maiden (are you sure about that.png). She concludes by telling Majima that they’re not biological siblings (why didn’t you just say that from the start lol) which seems to soothe Majima. He exclaims that “the curse never touched” her and yeets himself into the fire with these words.

And dead. But that’s beside the point apparently.

Some time later we see Yuriko who’s currently in Paris (paint me like one of your french girls coming full circle). She’s looking out on a balcony while thinking about the past. After the fire some random “stranger” got rid of their debt, which gave Mizuhito the opportunity to study art. His creations were not well received in Japan however (you mean people DIDN’T like him painting pictures of his Sister 24/7) so he went to France. For some magical reasons his art became a big hit over there and now they’re living a luxurious life.

Also the thing she found in Majima’s Kimono was a Chinese Bellflower. Yuriko still wasn’t sure if Majima killed her parents or not despite stating herself that these don’t grow where they live (girl wut).

What’s with that random paranthesis. Mizuhito says that there are always a lot of people looking at Yuriko during the parties, and that they want to “own” her by buying his paintings (which is not weird at all).

You’d think that they would see this as a chance to get out of this “sibling” relationship but apparently not. Also HER HAIR IS NOT BLACK FOR FU-...

Anyways. Yuriko says that she ran into Shiba which makes Mizuhito grrr horny so he throws her onto the bed.

Is it cringe? Yes. Is it an upgrade to “my little sister”?... Maybe. I’ll take it I guess.

Bruh. But Mizuhito wouldn’t be Mizuhito if he didn’t have an excellent plan, he even has two: either pretend you adopted the child from an Orphanage OR from distant relatives. Whta a grand idea that child will be so happy being lied to in order to hide their parents relationship.

That’s not how marriage works. Anyways that’s the end, thanks for sticking around. I hope you had a good time, I’ll be adding a small “review” like thing as a reblog later. I’d like to end this post with the following words:

NEITHER OF THEM HAVE BLACK HAIR I HATE THIS.

#chou no doku #choudoku #mizuhito #ripple effect stories #otome game #thank god I'm finally done

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breziarchive · 6 years ago

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beach majimako plz ty ilu!!!!

just for you, after i said “catch me never writing this”. superficial typos remain because i didn’t have time to edit asdflj

toying around with extending requests since I couldn’t work on them for almost a full day due to being sick, so stay tuned!

valentine’s day boogaloo - guidelines - ko-fi - majimako zine

“Stopfidgeting,” Makoto implored with a smile as she brushed a straystreak of sunscreen on Majima’s cheek, “No one can see anything,”

“Sure,” Majima grumbled, clearly upset, “But, what if—,”

“It’ll be fine. Just enjoy the summer day,”

Majimahuffed, glancing around the array of colorful towels, umbrellas, andswimsuits as families relaxed, played, and wandered about the beach.The sun was warm but not oppressive, the breeze brisk and refreshing,and the water clear and calm. Makotowas wearing the swimsuit they had bought together, simple and paleblue. He wore trunks and a white button down shirt, all long enoughto cover the tattoos that would ban him from so friendly a beach.Frowning at her from behind sunglasses that barely concealed hisruined eye, he sighed and flopped back on the towel.

“Fine. Ya win this round.”

“Do I?” Makoto asked, amused as she rummaged in their bag, “Tothink, Majima Goro admitting defeat so easily!”

“Oi,watch it,” Majima grunted, “Or I’m gonna start keepin’ scoreand then you’ll be in trouble!”

“WillI be, I wonder,” Makoto mused under her breath as she finally foundthe book she had brought to read. Majima made a noise that suggestedhe had heard her but ultimately the conversation ended in favor ofthe playful sounds of kids running about the beach with the undertoneof the rhythmic waves. Majimadozed. Makoto read.

Thespray of kicked sand jolted Majima awake.

Rowdy, drunk youths cackled as they passed by, carelessly kickingmore sand onto him as they went. Makoto yelped, first in shock thenin worry as Majima started coughing and heaving, curling in panic.

“Goro? Goro!” she brushed sand off his shoulders as he tore hissunglasses off and pawed at his eyes. Taking one of his wrists as herother hand dove into the bag, she started to coo as he cussed andhissed.

“Don’t scratch! Don’t scratch at it, just blink!”

“Blink,”Majima rasped, angry but not at her, “Itfuckin’ burns!!”

“Iknow,” she pulled a water bottle out and frantically twisted thecap off, “I know, I know, here—,”

Takinghis cheek to turn him to her, she frowned, watching him blinking inpanic and pain as tears rolled down his face. Pouring the water overhis eyes and trying to avoid his shirt as much as possible, Makotocontinued to coo and help him rid the sand from his face. She brushedher thumbs as gently as possible along his eyelids, taking care tonote his ruined side once he regained his sight. As she coaxed grainsof sand out of the scar tissue, he scowled.

“Fuckin’shitbags,”Majima spat to the side, “See them get away with that on a tatbeach, I fuckin’ bet they’ll be cryin’ between their ass cheeksin two seconds flat! Whereare they?!”

“No, don’t,” Makoto said quietly, “Let them be, they’ll gettheir own soon enough,”

Grumblingand cussing, Majima still scanned the beach for them, locating themnot too far away causing havoc in their own little circle.Disgruntled, he slouched asMakoto started petting sand off of other areas.

“GuessI wasn’t so different, back then,” he muttered. Makoto chuckled.

“I bet you were a terror,”

“Were?”he pinched her cheek and she playfully swatted him away.

Hehelped Makoto brush the rest of the sand off, slowly building hismood back as they idly chatted about the more innocent parts of theirpast that weren’t too dark for whatever ears could be listening.All the while, though,Majima kept his one eye constantly glancing back to the rowdy youth.Makoto noticed, but didn’tsay anything until she tapped his arm.

“Goro,that family—,”

“Yeah,”he confirmed, low. The youths had started picking at a grandmotherand her two young grandchildren, harassing and kicking apart whatevercastles the youngest was trying to build. Anyprotest was met with the reasoning that they were simply playingGojira despiteabsolutely no invitation. Majimasnarled, snatched hissunglasses back up, and gotto his feet, “Fuck that! If nobody’s gonna give ‘em their ownthen I will!”

Makotodidn’t stop him.

“Oi!One bad turn deservesanother, you punks want sand kicked in yer face?!” Majima toweredover them but they were too drunk on their own might to care.

“Huh? You got a problem, old man?” one challenged, swinging astill-full bottle of booze. The others all turned towards him, whichwas good, since it gave the grandmother a chance to pull her kidsaway from the tension.

Majima grit his teeth, wanting so very badly to escalate farther—hecould pull all the real insults from every orifice and make them crybefore he beat their faces to the dunes. But the round and scaredfaces of the grandkids behind the punks forced him to reel it in andhe swallowed. Summoning a state of mind he hadn’t had to use in avery long time, he adopted the patience of a cabaret manager.

“Listen,guys, if yer gonna cause trouble, do it somewhere else, yer ruinin’some kids’ day fer nothin’, a’ight?”

“What’samatter, can’t take a little excitement in your life?” one of theskinnier ones prodded.

Thecomment roused a chorus of nasty chuckles with compliments to thechef of such a lame insult. Majima narrowed his eye, thinking of allthe many, many, manythings he had done inthe past several years of his life just for the fuck of it only tocome out of them (surprisingly) alive—not that Makoto had to knowhalf of them, but regardless. It popped a smirk on his face.

“What’re you laughin’ at, huh?” the booze-swinger steamed. Atfirst his friends laughed but then they shied away when he, angerclearly triggered, stormed up to Majima, “Somethin’ funny toyou?!”

“Actually, I feel like cryin’,” Majima supplied calmly, “Y’allare just so sad to look at.”

“Youtryin’ to start a fight?!”

“On this beach?” Majima feigned innocence, “I would never. So,listen to yer elder and haul ass outta here if yer feelin’ likethrowin’ down,”

“Idon’t have to listen to anyone!” the youth raged, swinging thebottle wildly.

“F-Furukawa, hey, maybe—,”

“Shutit!!” Furukawacommanded, causing the only dissenting youth to flinch. Majimasniffed.

“Yer friend’s got the right idea. Blow yer steam off somewhereelse, kid.”

“Youcan’t tell me what to do, old man!!”Furukawa roared, swinging the bottle down hard. Caught off guard byhow quickly the kid snapped, Majima grunted as the bottle shatteredover his head, scraping his brow and knocking his glasses off. Hestared at where the sunglasses landed in the sand nextto the bottle’s shards,sake dripping from his harsh features. For a moment he almost wishedit was champagne again, if only because that smelled better. Raisinga calloused thumb to wipe his upper lip, he inhaled, loosening hisshoulders on the exhale. The sake soaked into his white shirt andMajima looked up.

Theeyes of everyone in front of him, from the youths to the grandmotherbehind them, widened until the whites shone in the sun. Majimadidn’t have to look down to know that his tattoo bled through thewet fabric, having hemmed and hawed over it with Makoto some hoursprior.

“C’mon,kid,” Majima said, low and dark and edging on dangerous, “Whatare ya, 21? 20?”

Theyouths huddled together behind Furukawa who was too frozen to cower.The more his tattoo bled through the more anxious they became.

“Ain’tya a little old to be pullin’ thisshit?”

Furukawa’sjaw hung open, staggered, then shut.

“Ifya don’t want a little excitement in your life…,” Majima woundhis leg back and kicked sand at the youths, “Fuckin’beat it!”

They scrambled over each other, tripping and faltering in their hasteto leave the scrutiny of the unveiled yakuza. Majima would’vewatched them go, but the faces of the family in front of him stolehis attention. What must he have looked like? Hiding a tattoo wasterror for the grandma, but for the kids? They couldn’t stopstaring at the hole in his face. Frozen and awkward, he gulped andgave a little bow, earning a flinch from the grandmother. Shit.

“Goro!” Makoto called. Turning on his heel to see herrunning, Majima called back.

“Wait, don’t, don’t! There’s—,”

An ear-splitting shriek left Majima’s throat as he stepped on theshards of glass he was trying to warn her about. Hopping erraticallyon one foot, he attempted to go in her direction. Makoto braced hisshoulders when she reached him, guiding him back to their towel asgracefully as they could manage.

“Shit,” Majima expunged as he collapsed on the towel, “I’dalmost rather get another foot massage from ya,”

“Don’t tempt me,” Makoto said as she pulled his bleeding footonto her lap. Majima groaned, covering his face as she went to workcleaning the wound.

“Makoto?”

“Hm?”

Majima’s voice was defeated like a kid that had lost thechampionship little league game, “Where’s my eyepatch?”

In turn, her voice was gentler than normal, taking time to brush athumb along his shin, “Front pocket of the bag.

“’Kay…,” he mumbled. Keeping one hand covering his face, heblindly pawed around until he found the front pocket. Pulling thepatch out, he sullenly put it back on, wincing whenever Makoto hit aparticularly sensitive spot.

“Call me unprepared…,” She frowned, “But I didn’t bringanything to bandage you up…,”

“Naw,” he dismissed, “I can’t blame ya. This wasn’tsupposed to happen,”

A pause. Makoto rinsed her hands with the rest of the water.

“I’m sorry, Makoto,”

“Don’t be,” she assured quietly, “You did the right thing.”

Majima sighed, then started unbuttoning his shirt. Makoto eyed himwarily.

“You sure?” she asked. He sighed again.

“Cat’s already outta the bag. Plus it’s soaked with booze.Can’t hurt.”

Makoto didn’t argue and simply wrapped the shirt until his foot wasnothing but a bulk of soaked fabric. He seethed, somehow managing tokeep his ticklish foot in place for her. Makoto finally sat back,sighing with him.

“Well.”

She reached up and ran her hand up his arm, soothing with her firmgrip. Majima, his arm over his eye, started mouthing off a countdownas Makoto kept massaging him.

“You there! Sir!” an authoritative but painfully local voicecalled.

“Aaaand right on time,” he grumbled as the policeman jogged up.

Already intimidated by his appearance the policeman was trying coverup any stammering by standing straight. Majima only gave himattention by moving his arm so his eye could peek out.

“S-Sir, this is...This is a public beach,”

“Haw?”

“A family beach,”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tattoos aren’t allowed,”

“Ya.”

The policeman shifted, becoming as annoyed as he was nervous. Majimasqueezed whatever enjoyment he could by watching him struggle.

“Please lea—,”

“Wait, Officer,” an old and sweet voice interrupted. Majimajolted, looking up in utter bewilderment with Makoto. There stood thegrandmother, granddaughter in one hand and grandson in the other.

“Let him stay here for the day,”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the officer shook his head, “But I was toldthat this man assaulted several youths just now, I can’t allow suchbehavior here.”

The grandmother shook her head, her floppy sunhat following hermovements, “They were lying. This man took it upon himself tointervene and chase those ruffians away. They caused the violencefirst,” she gestured at his foot and brow, “Just look at whatthey did to him!”

“Self-defense?” the officer guessed. The grandmother narrowed hereyes, her voice turning into a harsh scold like he should’ve knownbetter. The officer winced, confused.

“No, those boys attacked first. I’m just thankful he washere to stop them,”

The policeman stammered, trying to bolster his defense. Rules arerules, so on and so forth. But the grandmother wouldn’t budge,resorting to shouting until the officer relented and allowed Majimaon the beach for that day only.

“Oh…,” Makoto said when the officer finally left them alone,“Thank you, really, thank you!”

“Granny,” Majima propped himself on his elbows, “Ya reallydidn’t have to, we can take a little beatin’ here and there,”

“And?” The grandmother turned her scolding to Majima in aninstant, much to Makoto’s giggling, “It’s a beautiful summerday and you deserve a good rest. Come now.”

The grandmother allowed the two of them to entertain her twingrandchildren, Makoto walking the boy into the shallows and pluckingsea shells with him while Majima (injured as he was) stayed on thebeach while the girl dug in the sand. Majima’s leering hannyaglared out at all the rest of the families, but the grandmother wasnever far away to sit and smile, diminishing the fierceness of thetattoo.

“Hohh? Whatchu got there, scamp?” he asked as the girl flinchedbut started poking curiously around a moat she had built. The girlwas much quieter than her twin brother, and simply looked at Majimabefore pointing down. He craned his neck, seeing a small crabscuttling about.

“Ohh yah, got some creatures in yer moat to guard it, huh? Nothin’to sneeze at either. Look,” he reached down and picked the tinything up, “See these claws?”

The girl nodded. Majima grinned, then stuck his finger square in thecrab’s claw to be pinched.

Gasping, the girl brought her sand-covered hands to her mouth. Majimacringed, biting his lip so as not to cuss—the little sucker pinchedfar harder than he had imagined. But still he stuck it out and kepthis wonky smile on for the girl.

“Goro!” Makoto called from the water, “What are youdoing?”

“Important stuff! You ain’t invited!”

“Would you stop hurting yourself at least?”

“Hurtin’? Ow—,” Majima flinched as the crab’s other clawfound the flesh of his palm, “This ain’t hurtin’, it’splaying, there’s a difference!”

The girl giggled. Makoto rolled her eyes so forcefully he could seeit from where he was sitting, and he started to giggle too as the sunbeat warmly on his back.

#majimako #valentine's day boogaloo #majima goro #makimura makoto #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #BEACH. HEAVEN. NOW.#bunbii

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bmaxwell · 5 years ago

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Top games of 2019

For much of the year I thought I might have a hard time building a solid list of 10 games. As it turned out, I could have made a top 20 without much trouble. So it was a good year for games, but maybe there weren’t many 10/10 classics for me. I did have BT’s, BB’s, and even a BD-1 though!

First up, my Old Game of Year: Yakuza 0

The dichotomy between Yakuza 0′s melodramatic main story and its silly tongue-in-cheek side missions made the game an absolute joy to play. One minute you’re dealing with warring Yakuza factions and torn loyalties, and the next you’re doing minigames like karaoke, bowling, RC car racing, and darts, and then you’re helping a dominatrix find her confidence or helping a human statue sneak away from his post to go take a much-needed shit. All throughout you’re also beating the shit out of legions of street thugs and yakuza dudes using kicks, punches, bats, bicycles, salt shakers, teapots, and whatever else is handy. I fell in love with this game in a way I very much did not expect.

Also good ”old” games: World of Final Fantasy, Ni No Kuni 2, Steamworld Heist, Odin Sphere Leifthrasir

Best Music: Death Stranding

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The game’s score is good, but the licensed music was key in some of Death Stranding’s best moments. The above song starts playing during your first journey in the game, and the tone is just spot-on perfect. Death Stranding works for me in a similar way that American Truck Simulator works for me. When you’re barely surviving a long trek, and a peaceful, melancholy song starts playing just as you reach the top of the hill and finally see your destination? Just perfect.

Also excellent music: Sayonara Wild Hearts

Most disappointing: Control

Well, I got fucking Alan Wake’d by Remedy again. Fantastic atmosphere and setting for a game, cocked up by repetitive, boring combat. So much about Control is so very good. I love the mystery of the janitor and the main character, the Twilight Zone/X-Files vibe of the agency and the Oldest House. The game’s architecture is arresting, and the writing is excellent.

But for me it was undone by the combat which quickly became a tedious, thing I had to Get Through to see more of the good stuff, and the more challenging fights became something I just didn’t want to engage with anymore. The checkpoint system and maps weren’t helpful, and I received too many optional side quests that I couldn’t complete because I hadn’t found the necessary traversal power yet. I loved so much about the game, but the moment to moment playing of the game was frequently not fun for me.

Ultimately it felt like a game that did not respect my time. The game desperately needed an Easy setting so I could just blow through the bits that I didn’t like. Like Alan Wake, I expect to be pulled back into it and then bounce off again at least two more times.

And now, the games that were in the running for the top 10 but missed the cut:

Dicey Dungeons:

You roll dice and spend them to activate equipment, gaining more equipment as you go. It’s a close cousin to deckbuilding games, but a little lighter and more forgiving. Slotting dice into cards feels good though. The variety in characters and cards help give this game good replay value. Give me randomized cards/gear, and characters to unlock in a run-based game and I’m a happy guy.

Judgment:

Yakuza minus Kiryu and Majima, with some investigation minigames thrown in. It’s pretty good! Most of the new detective minigames feel like they get in the way (tailing people is just silly, taking photos doesn’t work great). I never really felt strongly compelled to stick with it though. I miss the charm of Kiryu and the grime of 80′s Kamurocho. It’s an excellent game I might have enjoyed more if I hadn’t played Yakuza first.

Chocobo’s Mystery Dungeon: Everybuddy!:

This port of a Nintendo Wii roguelike is one that I missed in its original incarnation. It’s got the “I move - all the enemies move” turn-based gameplay that I love, and classes to unlock. All of this is very much my shit. It’s goofy the way that Final Fantasy games are, and the design feels older than it is (I thought it was a PS2 port before I looked it up). But hey - give me stuff to unlock and the old “I move - you move” gameplay and, again, I’m a happy guy.

Ring Fit Adventure

This game is getting me to exercise just about every day. It’s not a great video game (nor should it try to be) but as a workout tool it’s wonderful for someone like me who has trouble finding the time and motivation to go out of the house and exercise.

Untitled Goose Game

You are a winged angel of chaos in this joyous little game. I found the gameplay itself to be pretty shallow and lacking, but it’s a wonderful sandbox to play in. Tormenting people is great fun, and the way the goose animates is just perfect.

Table of Tales: The Crooked Crown

This was the PSVR game that stood out the most for me this year. It’s a tactical RPG complete with a DM that narrates everything, tiles to move your characters around on, and card-based combat. It’s a charming game and I hope they make more.

Luigi’s Mansion 3

This was my first game in the series, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. It’s a charming game, and the variety from floor to floor. I could forgive the wonky control scheme, but I think there’s just a low ceiling on how much a cutesy, family-friendly Nintendo title can resonate with me these days.

Dragon Quest Builders 2

Dragon Quest and Minecraft had a baby. This was my favorite game of the year for turning my brain off and checking things off a list. I’m not sure Dragon Quest Builders 2 is a Great Game, but it’s wonderful gaming comfort food for a Dragon Quest fan.

Void Bastards

Void Bastards might be this year’s Dead Cells - a run based game that never quite hooked me, but I’ll keep coming back to it. The developers really did a lot without a lot of variety in the way of art assets. It’s a satisfying, often funny shooter (admittedly not my jam). What a terrific name though.

Steamworld Quest

The Steamworld series is an impressive, weird thing. I’ve never seen a series change genres like this; they started with Steamworld Dig (Metroidvania) then made Heist (a tactical combat game) then another Dig, and finally this year they released Steamworld Quest - a deckbuilding RPG. Customization and unlockables are among my favorite gaming buzzwords, and they’re here in spades.

Sayonara Wild Hearts

More of a visual companion set to a pop album than a conventional game. This is for me what Rez was for a lot of folks. Most stages are autorunners where you’re collecting hearts, dodging obstacles, shooting giant wolves, and fighting lesbians while racing atop motorcycles. It’s a story about love, heartbreak, and finding yourself, told through music and images. Nice to have a game that feels like it was made specifically for marginalized folks.

10. Concrete Genie

Concrete Genie’s best trait is its earnestness - an increasingly rare thing in 2019. It’s about an artistic being pursued by bullies in a run-down town. He finds a magic brush that lets him paint friendly monsters into life and also paint magical landscape scenes onto buildings in an effort to bring life back to the town.

The themes of the game and how they’re handled feel a little after school special to me, but the game has a lot of heart. And the gameplay loop of creating monsters, painting buildings, and unlocking new types of things to paint never got old because it’s so damned beautiful. And you have a lot of room to be creative with how you paint. The game is not challenging, and I think the experience is better for it. There is some light platforming, puzzling, and combat, but none of it ever got frustrating. A wholesome game like this was a very welcome thing this year.

9. Indivisible

Indivisible is a odd mashup of platformer, RPG, and fighting game that blends those well enough that I can't easily put it into any one box. For me, it’s the closest to a fighting game I’ve played in probably 20 years. It has launchers and finishers and timed blocks. You collect a big old army of people you can swap in and out, the writing is smart. The platforming parts are the weakest part of the game, as some of the jumping challenges can feel uneven, and there’s a lot of “I see what I have to do, now I just need to try over and over until I execute”

The setting (Asian mythology as a backdrop) and combat felt unique enough to keep me going, and the game has a charm and personality. I like how the main character is a well-intended fuck up that has to atone for her mistakes, somewhat reminiscent of Mae from Night in the Woods.

8. Children of Morta

This is an action RPG with character progression where you are playing members of a family. The gameplay is solid, and the game drip feeds story and character interaction between runs. It’s a well-narrated and charming thing. The writing can be funny and often touching. There are story bits like the uncle crafting a pair of daggers for Kevin, who falls in love with them. Mary - his mother - takes them away for being too dangerous, and she doesn’t want her boy putting himself at risk helped me feel invested in the characters and story more than most ARPG’s.

The movement and combat feel snappy, and there are plenty of skills to unlock so you always feel like progress was made even when a run falls short. There are plenty of little secrets and tchotchkes to find in the dungeons, and between runs you can see the family members doing their own thing in the house where they live together. It’s a refreshing take on the action RPG genre.

7. Outer Worlds

I remember when The Outer Worlds was announced at The Game Awards. None of this checks any boxes for me: sci-fi setting, shooting, wacky characters. You can make your character DUMB and get special dialogue choices! Humor in game very rarely works for me, and this sounded like it was going to be that jaded, shitty Rockstar brand of humor. Hard pass from me.

Enter Xbox Game Pass. The Outer Wilds Worlds started getting positive word of mouth and it was included with Game Pass, so I figured I may as well give it a go. I encountered something I didn’t expect: really terrific writing.

I turned the difficulty down to its lowest settings and mowed through the game, savoring the tongue-in-cheek dialogue in a world where corporations own literally everything. The first character you meet is hiding out in a cave because he’s been wounded. Not too wounded to give you the company’s sales pitch though! It’s not the best choice, it’s Spacer’s Choice.

The whole “corporations are in charge” bleak humor hits more than it misses, but the real star of the show is your companions. They are generally convincing and feel like real, fleshed out characters and not simple tropes. Each companion character gets their own interesting set of side quests (except for the dumb boring robot companion). My first companion Parvati’s story revolved around mustering the courage to pursue a romantic relationship with a woman. They wrote Parvati as an asexual character, and it felt natural and not forced - not an easy task.

It leans into being a dumb video game in all the right ways and made me care about the characters more than the story. The story’s cynicism wore thin eventually, but the game ended at just about the right time and didn’t overstay its welcome.

6. Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

Jedi Fallen Order lies at the intersection of 2 things I admire more than enjoy: Star Wars and Souls-likes. It’s also EA doing their best to show that they can release a AAA Star Wars game with no microtransactions after the tire fire that was Star Wars Battlefront II. This game is an excellent make-good for EA, though I’m sure it’s more “We had to do this to restore consumer trust in us” than any real change of heart.

This game, at the time of this writing on a base PS4 anyhow, has some jank. Textures would often pop in after a second or two, I had a Stormtrooper get stuck in place like a statue, and I had a couple of hard crashes. Despite all of that, I kept coming back to the game every night until it was finished. And it impressed me enough to put an EA Star Wars game in my top 10. You win, universe. The combat was a good balance of fun shit like force-pushing dude off a cliff and tense one-on-one battle where parries and dodges are needed to get by.

The game’s story is what kept me wanting to see what was next. It’s a game set in the Star Wars universe with the confidence to resist reminding you of the characters and places you know from the films, and it’s better for it. I found myself invested in the fates of the characters. While the main character is more or less a blank cipher for the player, he’s still a better protagonist than Anakin Skywalker because I didn’t actively dislike him.

5. Bloodstained

New games succeeding as remakes or homages with goofy videogame-ass videogame stuff was sure a theme this year. Bloodstained is so ridiculous in so many ways. A lady asked me to bring her a specific piece of armor to honor one of the fallen villagers. When I did so, she tearfully thanked me then gave me 3 pizzas as a reward. The paintings on the walls will often come to life and attack you; those paintings are all portraits of people who backed the game on Kickstarter. One of the enemies resembles a giant house cat, another is a giant domestic dog. NPC’s repeat the same dialogue, such as a quest giver named Lindsay who says “Kill those murderers DEAD!” every time you speak to her.

And there is a metric ton of shit to find, collect, and craft. Most of the gear you equip looks goofy as hell. And the more new skills and gear you unlock, the more overpowered and broken you feel. The dialogue is corny as hell and plays things straight, which is the only way a screwball game like this actually works. The combat feels good. Experimenting with the powers and systems is a blast, and uncovering the map and secrets is satisfying.

4. Fire Emblem 3 Houses

- Despite being extremely my kind of shit on the surface, I’ve never done more than dabble with a Fire Emblem game. When I heard people invoking Persona and Harry Potter. I mean, a strategy RPG with relationship stories set in a school environment checks too many of my boxes to ignore.

What surprised me with the game is how much I came to really know the students in my house.* I felt like I knew Bernadetta, Dorothea, Ferdinand, Edelgard, and all the others. Alternating between exploring the school grounds, choosing lesson plans, having tea with a student, and leading them into battle was a nice way to mix up the experience. Training them in skills based on which character class you wanted to promote them to was a nice touch.

3. Death Stranding

Death Stranding has all of the batshittery it was rumored to have: Norman Reedus hiking around with a baby in a jar, poo grenades, tar squids, and people with names like Die Hardman, Mama, and Fragile. Kojima has about as much subtlety as David Cage with the metaphors and themes of the game. Cell phones latch onto you like handcuffs, and Likes are much sought after to the point where people are addicted to them. The game is all about reuniting America and forging connections. You play as a man named Sam. He’s a porter who works for the Bridges company. His name is Sam Porter Bridges.

Sam is playing a major role in reconnecting the country by hand delivering packages from city to city as well as reconnecting the country up to wifi. Continuing with the games themes, Sam has a touch phobia. It’s a game about isolation and introspection, and about the need for connection with one another. Hideo Kojima makes for damn certain that you know that when you play the game. It’s a little like David Cage, but with less cringe and more weirdness.

It’s an introspective game full of small moments. Sam curling up under a structure that another player has built, exhausted and cradling his jar baby as a melancholy song plays is the kind of moment that doesn’t play well in a demo or a video, and won’t resonate with everyone. Those of us it does work for, however, are in love with the experience. It takes the hard-to-describe appeal of a game like American Truck Simulator and adds a decidedly human element to it. There is comfort to motion and travel. We like to be rocked, or transported in a vehicle as babies. It’s the simple comfort of motion, and a way to connect to our world. There’s something to that.

I love seeing this level of ambition and weirdness from a major AAA release.

2. Disco Elysium

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

I thought of Dr Gonzo of Hunter S Thompson fame early and often while playing Disco Elysium. It’s an easy connection to make; you wake up face down on the floor of a demolished hotel room. You have a wicked hangover, wearing nothing but your undies. Your necktie whirls around the ceiling, attached to the ceiling fan.

I got sloppily dressed and staggered out my door, where I was confronted by an attractive woman in the hall. Some primal part of my character thinks it’s a good idea to ask her to fuck; you crudely do so, and it goes the way you might expect. I was fresh off of playing The Outer Worlds, so I was used to any dialogue prompt associated with a skill being automatically a positive thing. As it turns out, your character gets all sorts of a impulses that aren’t always in your best interests. This first interaction put me off a little bit, I don’t want to play a game that’s trying to be cool and edgy. As it turns out, this isn’t really that.

In Disco Elysium, you play as a cop sent to sort out a murder where a body was found hanging in a tree behind this hotel. Seems that, after 3 days, you’ve managed to run up a hotel bill that you can’t pay for, frighten the patrons by threatening to shoot yourself in the head in the hotel before you lose your badge and your gun. Another cop is sent to assist you since you’ve accomplished exactly nil after 3 days. He’s from another precinct and doesn’t know you, so you haven’t burned up all of your goodwill with him yet (unlike everyone else in your life).

At a glance, it’s a Baldur’s Gate-style isometric RPG with a modern setting. In practice, it’s a lot more than that. First off, the game has no combat. Or rather, no conventional combat. Any physical encounters (which were exceedingly rare in my play) are handled through dialogue choices determined by how you’ve built out your skills. And the way the game manifests your skills is smart and feels organic, not forced.

The skills aren’t the usual RPG fare. There are 24 of them, consisting of stuff like Visual Calculus, volition, Pain Threshold, and Shivers. As you might have guessed, 24 skills in a game with no conventional combat means there is a LOT of writing in this game and just as much variance from one play to the other. My detective was a highly emotionally sensitive guy, able to pick up on what folks may be hiding, very in-tune with the cosmos, and deeply introspective (upsettingly so?).

It’s a detective RPG with a healthy dose of political intrigue, class warfare, and nihilism. Disco Elysium feels like an actual adult game, and not in the “look at all this violence and titties” sense. The best comparison I have is Planescape Torment.

1. Resident Evil 2

- What a complete game. This was my first Resident Evil game and I am in love with it. The game drops you into a hostile environment that slowly transitions from a horror show with danger around every corner to feeling like a space that was very much mine. Creeping around an unfamiliar environment in the dark with a flashlight and limited ammunition, as it turns out, is fun as hell.

The combat is slow and deliberate in a way that made the action feel satisfying and not cheap; when I did encounter enemies that moved quickly and suddenly, it got my heart rate going. And my arc with Mr X from pure terror to minor annoyance to acceptance as part of this undead infested police station I call home felt pretty special.

He is an indestructible character that follows you endlessly like the Terminator. You’re faster, but he is relentless. Hearing his heavy footsteps somewhere in the vicinity was a nice atmospheric touch. I had a couple of instances where I was running from something, turned a corner and collided with this 8 foot tall beast.

Resident Evil 2 is just the ideal dose of scariness, and gets all the dumb videogame-y parts exactly right. It feels like a Metroidvania, a world filled with locks and keys where the secrets are drip-fed to the player. Creeping through an unfamiliar area with only 2 shotgun shells and 5 pistol rounds left was a deliciously tense experience, one that other games rarely give me.

The game’s second playthrough felt a lot more different from the first than I’d feared. I’ve never really played another Resident Evil game, and I’ve never had any interest in horror games. And now here I am anxiously awaiting next year’s RE3 remake.

*Black Eagles, baby!

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24hrmajima-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Subversion Part 2 Drabble

Under a read more because this’ll probably get pretty lengthy. I would’ve done more but really didn’t get anything out of part 1.

“You weren’t hard to find...” He said simply, shutting the door to the roof of one of Cotes many buildings. Majima had expected some grand chase for his double. Instead, he had found that he’d instead had said double call him to settle this. The way he composed himself, the way he looked, this man truly was the spitting image of himself. Every muscle in his being was tense. This whole scenario was like some sick, twisted way of mocking them all. After everything he’d been through, now he had to deal with a version of him that had it all go right.

“I wasn’t hiding,” the double explained, loosening his bowtie before tossing the strip of fabric aside. Majima noted, now that the other’s shirt was loosened, the lack of the serpents twisting to his chest. So the other truly was living it large without any of the drawbacks.

“I’m guessing you won’t go quietly, however...” Majima added, spotting the sheath for the tanto the other was holding in their free hand.

“I’m not going to die to some fake. I refuse to let this place by my prison,” the double said, drawing the blade from it’s sheath and tossing said case aside.

Majima clicked his tongue softly in bemusement of the other. He thought this was a prison? Pathetic. Still, the other was properly armed, unlike himself. He’d have to fix that if he could. The ex-yakuza bounced on his feet a few times, metal clacking audibly against the tiles of the cabaret roof.

S̸̛̰̰̕p̸̛̬̿̕͠i̸͍͔̽̆̀r̴͇͒͌͑͌a̴̠̘̽ͅl̵̥͇̞̑͒͝é̸̛̗̍ ̷̭̬̖̻̀̉́̚C̵̭͊͐ì̸͖̅͝ẗ̶̼̥͓y̴̡̝̣̞̓̃̀̒,̸̟̾͆̚ ̶̩̜̘̓̐͠C̷͑͐̈́͜ȧ̵̗͕̂b̶͔̠̺̺̕͘ã̴̙͎͖̹̑̈́r̷̯͙̰̓͝ę̷̡̫̇́͒t̸͙̐ ̴̬̫̥̗̓̂Ó̵̥w̵̩̮̗͌̽n̸̺̱̩͑̄̈́e̵̛̱̠̝͍͗r̴̡̜͇͕̈́͐͋̌ ̸̙̱̬̆͒ ̷̡̬͉̩̔͘G̴̨̡̖̘͊͘͠͝O̵̜̪̯͔͆̚R̵̥̳̊̎͝͠O̴͓̘̺͗̽̃̇ ̵̟͑ ̵̱̮͙͝ ̶̠͉̓́M̸̢̛̖̪̮̿Ả̴̮͆̈́J̸͕̗̜̽̄̕Ī̸͚̣̑̓M̵̳̤̙͕̽A̵̝̥̺̐̈̂̈́ ̴͍̝̼͑͠ ̷̬̍̆͐ ̷̯̘̖̍͗?̵̧͙͒̆̾͝

Neither hesitated in their advancement. No words needed to be said. One of them would die here and whichever it was would be the only Majima left.

Aiming high, Majima attempted to kick the other hard across the head, only to watch the other drop to their knees and slide below the leg at the last possible moment. As he turned to face the other, he instinctively took a step backward as he leaned. The blade of the copy’s tanto had been dangerously close to his head. As the copy adjusted his grip to try stabbing backward, he caught other’s arm and turned with him to throw the other away.

The copy stumbled as he struggled to keep his footing after going airborne, glancing back to Majima just in time to avoid a punch aimed for the back of his head. He went to stab the other while he put his weight into the punch-- only to watch as he seemingly over-committed to the blow, falling forward and avoiding the blade once again. However, as he fell, his leg jutted out, sending the blade flying skyward.

As Majima rolled to his feet, his eye darted up to the spinning knife, then to the copy mimicking his gaze. Both rushed forward, fists connecting with the right side of the other’s cheek and forcing them to take a step back. Those same legs that went back swung forward upon the tanto’s descent... The copy howling in pain as Majima’s foot connected with the hilt and plunged it deep into his leg.

He watched the other stumble back and attempt to ignore the pain, drawing the small blade out. The other was durable, he knew that. Of course, he also knew the copy wasn’t nearly as experienced with pain as he was. So when they charged him again, Majima did something perhaps a bit unexpected.

Clutching the other’s wrist as they predictably charged with tanto in front; he plunged it into his own side, staring the other down with his one good eye. He watched the copy pause in dumbfound silence, gaze locked upon the blade deep between the original’s ribs.

“You’re so pathetic,” Majima hissed, the edges of his lips twisting into an untamed smile as he proceeded to unceremoniously jerk his head forward-connecting foreheads harshly with the copy. They stumbled back, eye wide at the man just walking toward him with a blade in his side.

“Wh-What the hell are you...?” they asked, watching as Majima casually pulled the tanto out of his side before unceremoniously tossing it over the side of the building.

“Something brought by events you’d never handle, Goro-chan..” Majima said, grinning wider still as he began for the other. The burning pain in his side was painful, sure, but it could be something far worse. As he approached, he took the punch to his jaw, returning it in kind before raising his knee to hit the other’s descending skull.

The copy spat out blood, groaning as he groggily began to rose. Majima, despite his widened grin, was admittedly rather disgusted by the other. He thought this was some sort of hell. That he was some monster. Maybe it was. Though that didn’t mean it couldn’t get worse.

With that in mind, he began undoing his shirt, tossing it and the constrictive jacket aside. The other paled, staring in silent shock at the intricate designs of his tattoo. Still bleeding rather hard from his side, Majima approached the other and grasped him by the hair.

“You really think you’re hot shit, eh?” he asked, grinning at him and proceeding to headbutt the other, knocking him onto the roof again before kicking his side harshly in return. The metal tip of his shoe digging in and drawing blood as well.

“You’re nothing but some start-up punk, Goro-chan,” he stomped on the now open wound, digging his heel in and grinning wider at the cry of pain from his copy. “If you went through half of what I did, you’d be a broken mess already.”

He delivered a swift kick to the other’s head, cackling maniacally at the sickening crack it made as it hit the tiles. He crouched down beside him, tilting his head as he got his phone out now.

“Can’t kill you. You’re not worth the trouble it’d bring.” he admitted, pressing the app on his phone. “So you’re just goin’ t’ a nice fancy cage like I did. Where you’ll always live with the knowledge that you’re nothing.”

With that, he pressed the button, watching as the other slowly vanished before his very eye. For a few moments, all he could do was stay crouched there and stare at the spot where he had vanished. Slowly, he rose to a full stand and pocketed his phone.

“Tt, y’know what? Fuck it. I’m stuck in some sort of hellscape.. might as well cut loose a little..” he murmured, beginning toward the rooftop’s entrance before taking one last moment to peer back at the spot his copy had been.

“Ciao, Goro-chan. You weren’t as fun a fight as I thought you’d be.”

#{ Subversion P2 }#drabble #aka i was feeling a little crunched for time and cut it short a bit #but it's lessee #double the minimum word count so hey i made it?? maybe??

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breziarchive · 7 years ago

Text

Majimako, no conditions. Requested by my dear ass friend @persante, who wanted to retract her request on the fear i had too much on my plate.

no you fucking fool. i want this.

(inb4 the dumb referential names i picked are ALREADY ESTABLISHED CHARACTERS BUT I CAN’T BE ARSED TO CHANGE THE NAMES NOW)

also there’s blood and murder and laffs “majimako no conditions” means blood and murder

valentine’s day boogaloo - guidelines - ko-fi

(requests closed, badbbadbadfffffdfdfd)

Majima stumbled as the floor spun, the metal tips of his boots gleaming like they shouldn't have. Shaking his head did nothing to bring things back to normal. Blood spatters on the concrete beneath his feet looked dark and surreal, even though the bat in his hands was painted with much the same. Disregarding that he may have been worsening the mess, he brought his free hand up to dig at his scalp, panting wearily. Thank fuck there was no one around to see him now.

Or that they were already dead.

He breathed. In. Out. In. Out. His hands shook. Yeah he had killed people before, no it wasn't a case of 'it never gets easier'. It was a case of one of the two bodies in the room was not his doing, and that first dead body caused the second.

His stupefied eye wandered to see twisted feet dressed in delicate heels, slamming his eye shut before it followed pale, willowy legs to a distorted face. What the hell had this guy been doing? How much of it had he done? Keeping some woman's fresh corpse in his office space as he lit up cigarettes without a damn care in the world—Majima almost felt righteous that he barged in here, because it gave him the opportunity to make up for it. A corpse for a corpse—not really a righteous policy, but one that Majima had little control over when he saw an innocent dead on the floor.

Whatever. He hadn't come in here to kill someone, be that it turned out that way. Although he was glad he did—the files he had plucked out of cabinet spread against the askew desk proved it. Majima pressed his leaden hand a little too much against the files, spreading them farther out. Makoto's name littered them—documents of the exchange over the Empty Lot, documents of her lineage, whereabouts, just information about her in yakuza hands still. He had spent the past five, or was it ten, years hunting down whoever held documents like this, burning each and every one he came across. With men like this holding onto recent files of where and what she was doing, Majima was glad he was dead.

Hyper-focusing on the files instead of speculating who the woman in the corner might've been, Majima slid them off of the desk, neverminding the spatters of blood he disturbed, and sat on the edge of a plant pot. The dead yakuza's legs served as a footrest as his one eye skimmed over each paper. On a different day he'd be more thorough and take his time in the office to make sure he didn't miss a single copy, but today...Today? Fuck it. Majima stuck a cigarette in his mouth, lit it, then lit the files on fire.

His eye glazed over, watching the papers burn. For her. For her and always for her. Fuck. That woman was dead in the corner for some unknown reason that wouldn't ever be good enough. How close had Makoto come to being that woman? How close was she now?

For some damned reason an address on the paper burned in his mind before the flames burned it. He blinked, but the memory remained even as he dropped the papers on the pant leg of the dead yakuza to curl. Part of him wanted to just burn the whole building down now, with him inside it. Now that he knew the address, it was only fair, right? Even he didn't keep any files about her. Not even a picture.

Not even a picture.

He closed his eye as the fire changed sounds as it started to lick at the pant legs, fizzling on hair beneath. The address. The address. The dead woman in the corner. The address.

A strangled noise crept through his chest and he stood up, stomping the fire out and nearly tripping and falling from the uneven ground the legs made. The address.

Fear and hope pinched his heart and he stumbled off the dead man. Address.

That what he was going to do might've been considered stalking was only a small voice in his mind, and even though it nagged the pain dragging his face down and the fear kicking his head to pieces spoke louder. The address kept repeating itself over and over and over in his mind as he slammed the door holding the two corpses shut. He couldn't trust to write it down, because someone else could've seen it. He had to trust his memory, and when it came to her his memory was agonizingly clear.

Though, for his own sanity, he should've let a few days pass. He couldn't let more than a few hours of vivid sleep go before he was ripping through his wardrobe. It hit him all too quickly that he had, absolutely, no fucking clue what normal people wore. All he had were flashy suits and absolutely gaudy shit that would make him stick out like a sore thumb. The address he had memorized, he knew it was in the suburbs somewhere beyond the outskirts of the city. The thought made him honestly ill, him, trawling about a quiet neighborhood with snakeskin and tats out. Not to mention leather pants that clung a little too tightly in the right places to...accentuate. Taunt, or whatever it would do for him.

After far too long he finally settled on black slacks and suitcoat he hoped wasn't too flashy, because the least intimidating thing he had to wear underneath was a goldenrod button-up. (He almost went with red, but red held too much power. At least he skipped the tie.) After that, he made the quick decision to slip his eyepatch into his breast pocket and cover his eyes with a pair of aviators. Couldn't risk her recognizing him. Couldn't risk anything—this whole escapade could cost her so, so much more than he was willing to put her through. But he had to check, he had to know.

It burned like the files in his mind as he hopped on at least one more train than necessary, taking the longest way to the suburbs possible just in case. Just in case.

When he stepped off the train it was like walking into a concrete wall. He had made such a huge, huge mistake. There were kids running about, mothers pouring over grocery lists, no criers in the streets, no broken needles or used condoms, teenagers laughed normally and rough-housed with each other in ways that didn't cause broken noses and black eyes. This was not a place where he could even pretend to blend in, much less convince someone that he was just there to make sure someone was safe. Yeah. Didn't seem like he was gonna stake the joint at all.

He had just, after all, killed someone.

Majima swallowed, hoped he didn't stand like an idiot for too long in the small train station, then headed off, address burned in his mind. No one had followed him, unless they had better clothes to disguise themselves with than he did. Making sure the aviators were firm on his face, he counted the street numbers until he arrived at the correct block, secluded and ending in a small cul de sac surrounded by cute houses clustered together like trees in a forest. It wasn't lonely, but it was secluded. Early morning was giving way to mid-morning, and the houses lazily bustled with the promise of school starting soon. He had already passed more than one uniform-clad group of young teens, and had spied more than one child's backpack bouncing happily as they walked the streets unattended.

Shit, man. The second thoughts he had were screaming until his head rang.

A few kids, their backpacks resting against low yard fences, played as they waited for what Majima presumed to be a larger line of kids to go to school with. Those days had been so long ago for him now they might as well have been repressed. Some of the kids' heads perked up like meerkats as he tried to look casual, strolling down the street, but for the most part they didn't raise the alarm. Awkward and knowing it, Majima tried to look particularly interested in a weed sprouting from a crack in the asphalt, already turning around some bullshit excuse in his mind as to what he was doing. Botany, sure. Suburban botany. Yeah fuckin' right.

Why did it have to be now, when he had already traveled at least two hours, shitty disguise fooling nobody on, that he realized that discreetly finding out about her was impossible? Even if he waited for the kids to leave for school, what then? Knock on doors like a fuckin' missionary? He wished he could take his head off and curb-stomp it for its stupidity—yeah, a missionary, who had to use their voice, talk to people, interact—

“Cloudy day, isn't it?”

Majima froze, pulled from his stunt of suburban botany, and slowly turned around, spine stiff and jaw clenched. There she was, standing pleasantly. Orange and pink flannel peeked out just from behind a pastel windbreaker; it looked like she was only expecting to be outside for a moment, perhaps monitoring, watching the children. His heart crashed into his feet—one of them could be hers. Of all the stupid things he was already doing, he made it worse because his instinct twisted his head back to look at the kids tossing a ball back and forth. It was so mind-numbingly normal and stereotypical it seemed surreal, even Makoto's pleasantries didn't seem right.

Before he could really study and find out if any of them could be her kids she spoke again, just as pleasant, “Excuse me, sir, did you have a question about the kids?”

Majima blinked and looked back to her. Well, it wasn't out of the blue, but it wasn't quite as sterile as a comment about the weather. She smiled at him all the same but something was off—it was like he was watching an actress act, not someone truly smile. Trying to hide a swallow, he shook his head.

“Good,” the word was forceful from her lips despite the pleasant tone, but before Majima could nod and scuttle away like a log had been lifted over a cockroach she stepped up into his space and her eyes became sharp and dangerous, lips curling into a snarl, “Because I will drag you to hell if you so much as look at them wrong,”

Thankful that the aviators shielded most of his expression, Majima blinked rapidly, eye wide and struggling on whether to show how impressed versus how intimidated off the bat he was. Makoto kept herself planted in his space, glaring into her own reflection on the aviators. When she finally let him be it wasn't at all like she had backed down. He imagined that her hackles were still raised and teeth were bared behind her sweet lips, even as she walked away to tend to the children.

“Takeru-kun,” she chastised, too much of a bite to her words to show Majima that his suspicions were correct, “Throw the ball a little gentler, Ken-chan's still learning,”

Takeru, the boy in question, let out a comical whine of protest before retorting, “But Ken-chan's dad said—,”

“I don't care what he said,” Makoto huffed, firm, “It's on you to learn to be gentle or not, but I'm here to ask you to be gentle,”

The harshness of Makoto's voice seemed to take Takeru by surprise, and, holding the ball wide-eyed, he murmured a sullen 'yes, Makimura-san', softening his play. Majima watched her, noticing that the arcs of her shoulder blades were barely showing from behind the windbreaker from how much he put her at unease. More than that, the comfortable use of her surname—her unchanged surname—told Majima that, perhaps, none of these were her children.

The eldest of the children, a beanpole of a girl that Majima guessed would be ditching the elementary backpack for a uniform soon, cautiously approached her from the side. Busying himself with the breadth of suburban flora in the asphalt, he tilted his head a little to hear better.

“Makimura-san, is everything...alright?”

Makoto didn't seem to move, though her arms were crossed in front of her. Her voice remained tight, watching Takeru learn to adjust the power and bounce of the ball to the youngest kid there, “Is your brother coming out, Yumi-san?”

The girl nodded, but her gaze was steady and concerned on Makoto, “He's late, as usual,”

Makoto hummed, unhappy. Suddenly feeling as though he was surrounded, even if it was nothing but just eyes, he felt himself start to sweat and panic. There was no way in goddamn hell he was going to be able to convince Makoto of all people that he meant no harm while he was loitering around, especially not in front of children that it seemed she had been tasked with watching over until school started. God fucking help him if any other mothers or fathers or whoever started emerging from their homes, all to judge and pitchfork him. In truth it didn't matter too much to him if he was burned at the stake or not, but the idea that he had made everyone's lives in this quiet little town worse, that maybe, if he met his end here, white-knight sorts of yakuza would come hunting for revenge—goddamnit he really should've planned this out more than not at all.

“HEY! Hiroki-kun!”

Majima jolted upright.

“CATCH!”

The ball did not make it to Hiroki. Majima was honestly just thankful the ball hit so square into his face that any noises he did make were squelched. Clamping his teeth down on the insides of his cheeks both out of reflex and out of desperate courtesy to not shout something, thus bringing the pitchforks to his attention and scaring the children in the process, Majima stumbled until his ass met the iron fence behind him. His gloved hands went to his face immediately, cupping around his nose. Again, out of reflex. The ball could never in a million years hit him like a punch could, and the loud, hollow THOONK sound it made as it bounced off was the sound of no real harm done. Grunting and grinding his teeth on his cheeks, he pinched the tip of his nose and shook it back and forth like he had to put it back in place, glancing up to see a shocked kid standing in front of him. New, from the house that had been behind him. Presumably the Hiroki that the hotshot Takeru greeted with a ball to Majima's face. Not only was he shocked but he seemed absolutely horrified, too, like Majima would do something. He blinked, readying an expression to show the kid that he was okay when he realized something.

The aviators had been knocked off.

Shot with panic, he slapped a hand over his missing eye and ducked down to scramble for them at the same time Hiroki ducked to chase the runaway ball. Majima's outstretched fingers curled in pain as he watched the kid's shoes destroy the aviators. Teeth now visibly clenched onto his lower lip, Majima hissed through them in a barely disguised wail of defeat.

No real harm done, huh. No wonder the kid looked horrified. Fuck.

“Hiroki-kun!” Makoto ordered, jarring the kid to her side, ball in his short arms. Majima stammered on several fucks, whispered so low he couldn't even hear himself as he turned to keep his good eye towards them, no matter how conspicuous it looked. The moment Hiroki made it to her side he pulled on her arm, making her lean down though her intense gaze was thoroughly fixated on him. Suspicion cut through him like a laser—she was tensed on the balls of her feet waiting for how he would truly react.

The kid said something to her about his eye, he caught on to enough of what he said to know that. Queasy and dizzy, Majima tried not to pant too hard, struggling to straighten his back. The tension was so palpable Majima could've been pushed back all the way to the train station. Hell, all the way back to Kamurocho. Used condoms and broken needles would be a welcoming sight over kids and kickballs.

Like a short legion from heaven, down the street came the joyful clamor of kids from the surrounding neighborhoods, all clustered together as they headed for school. Red and black backpacks bounced in various ways according to the care the kid gave their bag, some even so bold as to swing them along while others balanced them on their heads as they tried to keep walking. All the kids behind Makoto looked to the line then back to him, back to Makoto to discern her judgment on the situation. Finally Yumi nodded to herself, ushering the kids forwards down the street before she followed.

“Makimura-san—,”

“Have a good day at school,” Makoto called, putting on an overly normal tone despite everything, “Stay safe.”

Majima winced, staying put until the kids disappeared around the corner. He twitched to move but before he knew it Makoto was in his space again, gripping his elbow without fear and staring him down. It wasn't until he could no longer hear the kids that she let him go and took a step back.

“Who are you, what are you here for?” She demanded of him. Majima gulped, feeling it all the way down his throat and into his stomach. Should he answer and give himself away immediately? Keep quiet and try to leave? One was more suspicious than the other, but the other got her much too involved. Makoto's eyes drilled into him and he knew he still wasn't over just the general idea that she could see from the way sweat beaded on his temples. He'd have to make a decision soon or the neighborhood was damned.

Without warning, Makoto dropped her gaze. Majima blinked, watching her in nervous curiosity. Her arms were still crossed in front of her but her feet weren't so firmly planted anymore, drawing unseen lines on the asphalt until the toe of her shoe nudged against the complete wreckage of the aviators. When she looked back up Majima was caught off-guard, stricken by how tired and sorry she looked even if he could still see the walls up around her.

“I'm sorry, at the very least,” she was eying the hand that was still clamped over his bad eye. His stomach twisted, knowing that some part of her recognized him from the incident right before he had walked away. Wincing again, Majima almost opened his mouth to tell her she didn't have to be. Almost. It was his fault he came out all this way for practically nothing, anyways. He should've had more faith in her building a life for herself, keeping herself safe, keeping others safe.

But then again, he didn't need to be roped to a pole and have his other eye dug out to be told that even the strongest, safest people could be fucked over. Maybe the yakuza was just a filekeeper.

Maybe he was going to do something with the files.

Majima didn't realize that Makoto was studying his eye until it was too late to change his entranced expression. She glanced around her neighborhood, holding herself a little tighter, then hardened her expression.

“Come. If you have business, we'll do it inside.”

Makoto gestured for him to move first. It took a while for him to not only get, but agree to move, nervous that he obviously was. Despite all this she thought herself sacrificially suicidal. She didn't know why this man had appeared when he did, she didn't know what connections he had other than she vaguely recalled one of the harassers from so long ago referring to him as legendary. That incident was the only reason her guard was lowered, once she had realized that this man must have been one and the same. He certainly wasn't lost, since he was dressed somewhat appropriately for the suburbs, and Makoto knew that out of everyone that lived in this area, this sweet little neighborhood, she was the only one he would be magnetized to. She was the only one with any sort of...history. With this sort of thing.

Keeping him at her side or in front of her, never behind her, she led him to the backyard of one of the smaller houses. She followed him up the staircase that zig-zagged up the back of the house, cornering him by standing between him and escape as she unlocked and opened the door. She was the only one in the neighborhood that did lock her door. He didn't need to know that.

When he stepped inside before her he stood rooted to the spot, watching as she locked the door behind her, slipped out of her shoes and into the main hallway. Makoto turned around, staring at him eye to eye with the added step up from the front of the doorway.

Silence. Neither of them moved, but it wasn't clear who was refusing to give way versus who was just unable to do anything. Makoto narrowed her eyes. His hand dipped into his suit coat, watching her to note the tension in her muscles.

Out came an eyepatch. Makoto forced herself to relax as he cautiously slipped it on.

Then she left to the kitchen to make tea. She did so as quietly as possible, listening to him reluctantly take his shoes off and step into the second floor apartment proper. From the archway into the kitchen she eyed him in her peripherals as he slowly wandered into the dining room. He was taking everything in, the cozy snugness of the narrow halls, the practical decorations that she stuffed into whatever corner she could making the apartment even snugger than it was. Closed-in comfort. Room to breathe, but everywhere there was something to look at. Artwork, either purchased or made from the kids she watched over. Attempts at apartment horticulture, especially in the small windowsill spaces. Folded blankets, more than one person could use, all out for the world to see instead of stashed in a linen closet. The man saw it all, drinking it in with more interest than a bored yakuza would. Makoto watched as, eye still taking in details, he folded his long legs in front of the kotatsu.

Then he found the alcove.

Makoto watched as he studied it for a long time. It was in that small space that she filled with pictures of her family. Rather, filled with pictures of what she had lost. Taking up most of it was a picture of Lee, next to the most recent picture of her brother Kiryu could dig up for her before he had said good-bye. Behind them on a higher shelf were her mother and grandfather, though sometimes she turned their faces away from her in both shame and anger. Sometimes, even, she'd turn her brother and Lee away.

There was only one she couldn't change, and that was the empty space at the bottom edge of the alcove, off to the side. Set with flowers she had replaced just yesterday. A tulip resting in a bed of forget-me-nots—flowers she had learned the meanings of from one of her neighbors. She noticed that the picture-less offering wasn't lost on him, though if he knew what it meant, who could say. Part of him wished he hadn't seen it, hadn't disturbed its presence with acknowledgment.

The tea was ready—ready enough. Makoto forced his attention away by entering the room. She poured, quiet, but she broke the silence before the tea was fully served.

“Again. Who are you, what are you doing here?”

The man was quiet, but he looked at her like he had an answer. Crinkling her nose in distaste, keeping him in peripherals at all times, she snapped.

“I know it's about me. No one else in this neighborhood has any business with your kind.”

The man frowned, pulling the teacup away from his lips. Curious. Seemed like he disagreed with that statement and had reason to. Makoto clenched her fingers into fists, unclenched them, frustrated, then looked at him. She felt her eyes puff up already, emotional.

“It's over. Leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with this anymore.”

She wished she could say she hadn't flinched, but she did when he hunched down a little, perching his head forward as if he was listening far too intently. Trying to catch any other meanings to what she said. Makoto sneered, but she knew the desperation made it weak.

“Ten years of peace, but looking over my shoulder even when I don't hear a noise. Ten years and I almost got used to the idea that maybe I was free, but you, you here, knowing where I am...,”

Makoto stared at him, unaware that she was breathing faster than normal, “Either you're stalking me, or...or...,”

He pulled his gaze away then shook his head. Damn her, but she believed him. He was looking down at his gloves, as if trying to put together what to say even though he remained silent as ever. Makoto straightened her back, tea ignored as she stared at him. Though his blind side was facing her she dug into what she could see of his expression.

“...What do they know?” she murmured, bringing his attention back up. That was it. They knew something. They knew. About her? About the neighborhood? The names of the kids she looked after on the odd morning raced through her head, then their parents, then the regular employees she met and talked with when she was out, if she was out. The man watched her shoulders rise and fall in fear, but ultimately he was sympathetic, not worried, it seemed. That being said, he couldn't shake his head.

Clucking his tongue, he looked up to the ceiling to think, then he rummaged in his pockets to bring out his lighter. Flipping it open and flicking the flame on in one smooth motion, he handed it to her. Gingerly, she took it, looking to the flame then to him.

Whatever they knew, he had been destroying.

“Why,” she exhaled, “Why? Who are you, who are you to care, who are you to know—,”

The bombardment of questions he realized he couldn't escape from hit him hard, and he shook his head again and again—after all, she was already falling in way too deep just by knowing that her name was still floating around out there, in use or not. Makoto's palms were flat against the kotatsu, her nails scraping against the surface as she sensed that he was about to flee without answering.

“Who are you to come here and—what do you want, wait—wait!!”

Makoto caught him in the main hallway, trapping him with a slender arm that he refused to butt against. She breathed, heavy and harsh, staring at him. She opened her mouth to ask again.

She closed it and let her arm slip back to her side. Rubbing it self-consciously, she broke her gaze away from him.

“...Go,” she said quietly, “You can go.”

After all, she knew when she was asking questions that would plunge her over her head. Her and all the kids she looked after. But the regret and the pain in being left in the dark was as obvious as the pictureless offering.

It broke Majima's heart.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. All that business of keeping her safe—it meant nothing if none of it kept her happy on top of that. It wasn't just about her being alive, it was about her living.

It was easier than he would've expected, even though he knew that leaving would be harder than he was prepared for. Without warning her he stepped forward, opening his arms and pulling her into a hug. He felt her breath escape in a shocked gasp—wrapped in a momentary terror of not knowing his intent. Trying to keep himself soft he sighed, holding her gently so she could escape if she needed to.

Though she was stiff, she didn't move. Majima squeezed his eye shut, rubbing his thumb along her shoulder.

Makoto melted. Majima pulled her firm against his chest, realizing he had lifted her in the air when the initial kick of her feet brushed against his pant leg. Turning his head, he exhaled warmth to the nape of her neck. She shivered, just barely. The shivers intensified when he finally spoke, murmuring against the collar of her flannel.

“I'll stay. If ya need me to.”

Makoto breathed shallow and shrill, hands raising to claw at the backs of his shoulders—not to push him off but to bring him closer. Pressing his lips to the slope of her shoulder he exhaled again.

“I'll stay.”

Trembling in his hold, her suspended toes turned inwards. The length of her silence and the sudden fragility to her body made him set her back down, gently, gently. As he retreated enough to allow space between them he pressed his lips to her flushed cheek, definite but soft. It was both a statement and a question, reserved and patient. Still, he drew back, intent on freeing her while everything processed itself. Him, there, only to tell her she was safe and he'd continue to keep it that way if he had to, near her or not. That he was still thinking of her after all this time the way she still was.

Makoto threaded her hand through his hair to the back of his head, stopping him from retreating further.

“I didn't keep anything from back then...,” she murmured as she guided him back to rest on her shoulder, “Only memories, and singular photographs...,”

Majima kissed her pulse, spurred by how it quickened yet she relaxed. Remaining slow and kind in his movements, his lips kissed her more as she spoke, the bristle of his beard prickling her skin and causing goosebumps as he traveled to her exposed collarbone, kissing the heart of it.

“But...,”

Majima kissed her again, reveling in her stuttered breath against his knuckles as he started carefully unbuttoning her flannel shirt until his hands could slip underneath and pull her waist closer to him, fingers brushing the edges of her camisole.

“I wish I could've kept you...,”

He left her skin for just a moment and she missed the touch of his beard against her chest. Hand still threaded through his hair, she helped him pull away to meet his eye.

“Not a photograph...,” she whispered, “Just you.”

Makoto pulled herself flush against his warmth and let herself be lifted in his arms again to kiss his lips.

#majima goro #makoto makimura #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #valentine's day boogaloo #this idea has been knocking around for a few months #EXCUSE the length #but that's why #also i adore dormammu she's a wonderful friend #i've got soul but i'm not a soldier #i've got soulll but i'm not a soldierrrrr

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