#i think in part it might be cause i kept giving him some flak for it.

[graviticdeeds]

actually proud of my friend for starting to make fun mech builds, after starting out by steamrolling AC6 with a double zimmerman shotty build.

I just watched him melee-only the IB-01 fight and that was the legit coolest shit i’ve ever seen

[fizzypunks]

An Ache Deeper Than This

fandom: naruto wordcount: 3.7k/oneshot rating: teen (sensuality) summary: shikamaru is feeling old and achy on the way back from a mission, and neji gives him a massage.

AO3

note: written because im stressed and just wanted fluff lol

<>

 “We’ll make a camp here for tonight,” Neji said, looking up to the sky and the setting sun. Twenty-five minutes till sundown, and two more days left till their team reached The Village Hidden in the Leaves.

 Two days till home, after over two weeks of mission. Shikamaru could have sighed in relief, but he didn’t -- though he was relieved, he felt like he’d been whittling down his stamina a lot more these days, and he didn’t want to sound too happy at the prospect of rest. He’d save his sighs and complaining for      slightly bigger things than settling down for the night.

 Hinata stopped a couple of branches behind them, and a quick glance showed that she was surveying their area. Her eyes relaxed, with a little smile shot toward Shikamaru. “No one’s following, and there’s no one flanking.”

 Shikamaru smiled back — he never had to be concerned about their surroundings, not when he was with two Hyuugas.

 Lee looked into the same sky, the same direction, and patted Neji on the back. “That is a good call, Neji! The night is swiftly on its way, and we are in a good location to set up camp! We have done a great deal of traveling!”

 Neji laughed, looking down to the grass below his branch. “Indeed, Lee. I’ll leave the tents for you.”

 “Leave it to me! It will be ready in half an hour!”

 Lee dropped to the forest floor, followed by Kiba and Akamaru. Neji and Shikamaru shared a bemused glance. Of this promise, they had no doubt it would be fulfilled, and fulfilled fast.

 ~

 When Shikamaru wants to complain about pains, aches, and other physical issues that seem to follow him around like a persistent pet, he has to remind himself to not call it a factor of old age. That just wasn’t possible. He knew it, and if he were to say it, it would make him sound more whiny than he cared to be these days.

 It’s just the way of a ninja -- who cares if he’s 21, he’s been an active shinobi since he was 12. He’s lived through war, too many S-rank missions to count, and plays an active role fulfilling academy duties such as dodging hyperactive students with weapons. He’s a seasoned shinobi, and he has the scars (and joints) to prove it.

     You’re not old, you’re a ninja.  

 That still doesn’t make the aches and tightness in his shoulder any better -- knowing the cause doesn’t prevent it from happening. Short of retiring, which he didn’t see coming any time soon,      this     was going to be his life. He was going to have to get used to it.

 Maybe he can grumble. A little bit.

 “Nara,” came the calming voice to pull him from his thoughts.

 Shikamaru looked up from the log he was backed against, eyes focusing in on the Hyuuga in front of him. The sky blended into his long, restrained hair, and the calm fire lit behind him brought a glow to his white robes. His hands were in his pockets, and from his flat expression, it wouldn’t be easy to assess his demeanor.

 Shikamaru smiled, which in turn brought one from Neji.

 “Nara? You haven’t called me that in a while.”

 “You haven’t complained in a while, either, so I figured I’d check in.”

 “You’re such a good squad leader. Thanks, captain.”

 Neji’s eyes shifted to the side, a self satisfied smile replacing the gentle one before. “Don’t call me that.”

 Shikamaru laughed, propping his arms over the back of the log. He liked this. He      missed     this. He sees Neji often enough, but by misfortunes way, they often take on different missions. This shared mission, it would seem, is a blessing. Even if it was more trouble than it was worth, but it was also an incredible peace of mind to be side-by-side with him and not just waiting to be reunited.

 That was more common than not, too.

 Neji sat down on the same log Shikamaru rested against, just to the left of him. His robes were sullied with the regular wear and tear of a mission, and due to the nature of their combatants in the land of earth, the edges of his pants were singed and blackened.

 Shikamaru reached out and rolled the material between his fingers, watching parts of it break off. “Did you consider that maybe there’s nothing to complain about?”

 Neji looked down to him, then sighed. “This mission is long, got derailed, took longer than anticipated, and no one has slept in a bed in two weeks. I’d consider that… troublesome.”

 Shikamaru chuckled, dropping the hem of his pant leg. His eyes turned toward the fire, where Lee, Kiba, and Hinata roasted veggies. “Hmm. You have a point.”

 Neji rested a hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder, and Shikamaru tried not to flinch. He thought he must have done a good job, since Neji didn’t comment on it. He just squeezed, gazing out to their friends at the far side of camp.

 “When we’re home, it’s possible we might have to take on another S-rank. Kakashi already told me that he got word of missionaries out in the Mist, and he doesn’t want to send genin or chunin.”

 Shikamaru couldn’t help it this time, he had to sigh - he      had     to, in some way, let out his frustrations, and nothing was appropriate except for the soft tufts of tension that need to be released from his body.

 This life was clearly not made with him in mind -- he could do it, but it was a pain.

 “What a drag.”

 Neji squeezed again. “Indeed.”

     Man, my shoulder hurts -- what the fuck did I do to it?  

 Kiba and Akamaru were wiped too, because Lee was animatedly talking to him and Kiba was only nodding in agreement. Hinata, with a bowl of food in hand, was more engaged in the conversation, smiling and nodding along as Lee continues his story.

 They were far enough that the two of them couldn’t hear any details, just tones, just exclamations. It was sort of heart-warming, if Shikamaru ponders on it. Walking away from a mission that took blood and sweat and tears (Lee’s, admittedly, but tears nonetheless), only to be sitting with your friends and teammates in a tranquil evening of rest.

 It’s nice, seeing everyone you love alive.

 “So, which shoulder is it?”

 Neji’s hand was still resting on him, atop his jacket, and Shikamaru was again removed from his thoughts.

 “Hmm? What?”

 Neji shot an annoyed glance downward. “Where are you hurting? And don’t tell me you’re not, you’ve been favoring your left arm and side all day.”

     Ah    ,      to think a Hyuuga wouldn’t see… that Neji wouldn’t know. Should’a figured.  

 “It’s not that bad.”

 “But it hurts?”

 Shikamaru laughed, looking up to Neji and trying to be annoyed and finding that he couldn’t. Neji could frustrate him, call him on his shit, or generally be a pain to deal with on missions, but Shikamaru couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. “... A little bit, I guess.”

 “Take off your jacket,” Neji said immediately, like all he needed was a reason.

 Shikamaru obliged, and he removed his flak jacked with all the care in the world. Sitting down, having a chance for his body to relax and not move, had set his muscles into a calm state that did not take kindly to being interrupted.

 The sharp pains running down his back, his scapula, and his neck were renewed. He gasped when his jacket was freed from his shoulders. “Damn it,” he sighed, setting it off to the side.

 “I thought you said it wasn’t that bad?”

 Shikamaru shook his head. “It isn’t,” he insisted, but he didn’t try to sound convincing.

 It was Neji’s turn to sigh. In a quick and quiet motion, he stood, hitching a leg around the log so that he could sit behind Shikamaru. Shikamaru sat on the ground, a long leg on either side of him.

 Shikamaru immediately tensed when he realized what Neji had in mind, and looked over his shoulder with an expression he hoped wasn’t too surprised. “      Neji    ,” he said, not quite a whisper, but through tense lips. “They’re…”

 Neji took it all in amusement. “Kiba and Hinata are nearly asleep, and there’s no force in the world that will make Lee observant enough to notice.”

 His hands came up to lay gently across Shikamaru’s shoulders, no force behind them, just intent and awaiting action. Shikamaru wanted it in his heart, his muscles begged for a massage that would bring an end to their ache, but the type of person he is has      never     made him feel relaxed in the face of public displays of affection...

 They’ve been together for three years, and everyone knows this, and he will      still     feel himself grow stiff at the thought of being open or vulnerable in public. His ears still would warm if he’s caught in the middle of a kiss…

     It’s a damn curse.  

 Neji’s hands, all soft angles and long digits, rose up the sides of his shoulder, encouraged to do so with the silence Shikamaru granted him, rather than complaints and arguments. They climbed just to the length of skin between his shoulder and his neck. He leaned down, head dipping to the right, his lips ghosting the shell of Shikamaru’s ear. “Can I let down your hair?”

 Shikamaru’s face felt warm -- too warm, too fast. He nodded, eyes forward in anticipation. It was dumb, but he’s just... never been the type to be vulnerable in public -- and      never    on a mission. But he nodded all the same, because Neji’s hands were convincing in any circumstance, and maybe this little log, far away from camp, was private enough.

 The sounds from the campfire kept steady, a gentle scene of friendly stories and muffled laughter.

 “Thank you,” Neji whispered, and he quickly did away with the band in Shikamaru’s hair. He combed through the mass, making sure to not catch in any knots so it could lay flat.

 “That’s nice,” Shikamaru sighed, surrendering to him despite their circumstance.

 Neji carded through his hair, gently and with great care. He was slow, and the feeling was like a calm shore lapped at by little waves. And when he brought his fingertips to trace long paths down his head, Shikamaru definitely didn’t mind at all.

 “Don’t stop…”

 He pushed the lengths to drape over Shikamaru’s right shoulder, and Shikamaru opened his eyes, not having remembered closing them at all. Neji began pressing the tips of his fingers into the knots in his shoulders. “How about after a massage?”

 Ah, yes. That’s what he was supposed to be doing. “Oh… yeah, yeah.”

 Neji chuckled, and the sound was like a hit to the gut. “I’m sorry I distracted you,” and before Shikamaru was able to disagree, he pressed his thumbs into tender muscles. “Now, relax.”

 “Mmm,” Shikamaru winced, thumbs grazing over inflamed muscle and painful nerves.

 “Tell me where.”

 “Right where you are is      perfect    ,” and this was the way it was, he was already sinking back into Neji’s hands, eyes fluttering shut again with each passing second.

 Neji’s hands were familiar, gentle and rough in a perfect harmony that was known only to Shikamaru. He’d never experienced a place that felt safer than within the hold of these hands, and      this    embrace.

 His shoulders fell, by inches, but in magnitude it was like the tensions of a bridge held taut on ropes too worn      finally     giving away. He didn’t even know how      bad     they felt, not until he could move them without also being in discomfort. The tenderness remained, but that, too, was lessening with every squeeze.

 “Your muscles are so tense…” and he pushed a thumb deep into his scapula, a tight roll of knots lighting up under his thumb.

 Shikamaru whimpered, head tilting in favor of his left, and tried to unscrew his eyes as the pain passed. “I know… well, I know      now    , but I didn’t realize I was this --”

 A press, and a loud      pop     between his back ribs.

 “--      hnn --    tense…”

 “You should stretch with me at home.”

 “We’ve tried that…”

 “If you try with me, I’ll make sure you don’t corner me again.”

 Shikamaru smirked, the memory bringing a spark of heat to his stomach. Ghost pains of kneeling behind Neji on his bare knees came back like a blaze, but he didn’t hate it. “Suit yourself.”

 Neji chuckled again.

 When he gets past the stupid part of his brain that insists he’s doing something he shouldn’t, and publicly doing it despite it being easily viewed, Shikamaru admits that it’s not that bad. Granted, their teammates were still a distant thought that didn’t pay them any attention, but still -- he enjoyed the fact that he was able to get away from the pain in his body.

 Neji’s hands are like home, coaxing and pulling him into comfort. He opens his eyes just a sliver, peering out from his sleepiness and tranquility. The lights are little points, blurry beads and circles.

 The ground is hard, he wants fresh clothes, and there’s a creaky forest around them, but with Neji…

     I don’t need anything else.  

 “Neji…” He whispered, leaning toward his thigh. He beckons with a finger, “C’mere.”

 Neji’s hair fell, flowing down into their space, and it was like a curtain, a place that existed between the two of them; another place so familiar, his bones would recognize it no matter what. Neji eyed him from the side, quiet, attentive and awaiting. Shikamaru raised his arm to wrap around Neji’s neck, not to tug or pull or alter in any way except to say      stay    .

 “I owe you.”

 Neji shook his head, but kept his silence with a knowing smile.

 “I do.”

 He kissed Neji’s cheek, ‘cause actions are better than words.

 Neji’s hands start to knead into the conjunction of his shoulder, still under loose restraint of Shikamaru’s arm. A shooting pain issued from each contact point-- little avalanches, little aches releasing themselves from the flesh like tumbling boulders. It hurt, but then the pain gave way to better feelings, fewer pains.

 “Your hands… are so warm,” it was like he couldn’t stop the words. His voice was hoarse and too relaxed for his own liking, since it wasn’t in his house or his bed, and those too tumbled like an avalanche.

 Neji leaned into the skin he was just kneading, lips open in a kiss that only skims the surface -- like what a breath is to a shout, a droplet to a swift river.

 But then he starts to suck, and pool blood into the spot Shikamaru knows will be covered by his jacket. It brings heat to his face as he closes his eyes and leans back into the body behind him. His legs twist, just a bit, and he doesn’t have quite enough will power to not let the tension build in him -- his hips shift, his feet doing all they can not to dig.

 Shikamaru grabs at both calves beside him, squeezing.

     “Don’t do this to me    … they’re over there…”

 Neji’s lips dance further into his shoulder, and a finger tugs his shirt down over the muscled expanse to expose more skin. “I’m watching, they aren’t looking…”

     “Hinata…    ”

 “She never uses it unless she needs to…”

 “Please… you’re gonna… make me too excited…”

 “Hmm,” he laughed, little ripples dancing on his skin. “You look nice like this though…”

 Another wet kiss, another shudder down his spine and straight to his crotch --

     “You’re a fucking menace    ,” Shikamaru hisses.

 Neji laughs and the vibration carries across his skin, and Shikamaru starts to think that this entire thing was a ploy just to mess with him. But then he retreats, slowly and with a small parting kiss to the skin now blooming with a bruise.

 His hands return to their original work, kneading away the tension. “Suit yourself.”

 The hot coil in Shikamaru’s stomach sits in wait, and the hidden breath stuck in his chest came out in a nervous exhale. His heart wasn’t racing but it still surged, and now it too was trying to reconcile returning to normal -- so annoyingly fast did it happen, already bringing him to a state of being needy and tired and yearning.

 Shikamaru rolled his head back, laying in Neji’s lap. “I fucking hate you.”

 “I’m just trying to relax you, it’s not my fault you’re so reactive.”

 They fell into a peaceful silence after a quiet hum of acknowledgment -- before so long, the deep-rooted pain in Shikamaru started to ease, soothed by the heat of Neji’s chakra as he focused on chakra points.

 The sound of silence also came from camp, where talking had slowed and the fire started to sizzle. It was in embers, and the group surrounding it was finally quieting down for a restful night.

 Watching the camp, and enjoying the sense of family that surrounded him, Shikamaru crossed his right hand across his body to rest it on Neji’s. “I wonder if this is what life is gonna look like.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “For years, we’re going to be going on missions, and we’re all going to be waiting for the rest of us to come back. I just wonder…” And he couldn’t take his eyes off the rest of them, nor rip his hand away from Neji.

 “You’re very… sentimental today,” Neji said, leaning into his ear and using his spare hand to run his fingers through his hair again. “Are you okay?”

 Shikamaru nodded, ignoring the goosebumps Neji’s breath brought to him. “Yeah, I’m good. Just feeling old.”

 Neji laughed. “I’m not going to address that since I’m older than you, but if you want my opinion -- yes, I think we’ll be like this.” And then a small kiss, pressed to his cheek. “I think there’s very little in this world that we haven’t dealt with.”

 “I guess you’re right.”

 And because Neji knows what’s at the heart of the issue, the part that’s      really     scary, his voice dropped and Shikamaru was certain he was the only one who could hear him. “And I’ll keep coming back to you, and waiting for you to come back to me.”

 Shikamaru’s grip grew stronger, whiter, like all the pain in his body suddenly relocated into his heart and he had to hold on to      something     to not get lost in it.

 “You better,” Shikamaru said, voice swallowed up in his intention. He didn’t realize how heavy this was.

 “And you’ll come back, too, right?”

 Shikamaru knows he can’t even promise it, yet he feels it in his gut. “Yes,” he responded immediately, forcefully, and his grip became stronger to emphasize.

 The shape of Neji’s breath was a smile, and then a hum. “That’s all I want to hear.”

 Shikamaru leaned into him, and couldn’t help but relish in all the ways Neji was attending to him, giving him all of his attention and assurance. The hand carding gently through his hair was grounding, just like the feeling strong thighs encasing him was comforting, and the deep familiarity of his hair and the floral scent that always clung to it...

 “And,” Neji continued, still as quiet as a whisper. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

 “Gods damn it, Neji,” Shikamaru laughed, shaking his head against the other, ignoring the stoking of the fiery heat within his stomach. “Thank you for being serious for a minute, I guess.”

 “I’m always serious.”

 “Even when you switch topics like that?”

 “Especially when I switch topics to      this    ,” and tugged his hair just a little bit, just enough.

 “Hmm, I guess you can show me,” and he lifts his hand from Neji’s to turn him, by the chin, in his direction, lining up their lips. “Since you wanna be difficult, I --”

 “HEY!”

 Shikamaru dropped his hands, dropped his eyes, dropped his very intentions with every rapid degree of heat that graced his cheeks.

 He looked toward camp in a snap of the neck, feelings stupid for his wide eyes and kick-started heart. Kiba is waving toward them, a clear grin across his face as the others behind him are shuffling to clean the fire.

 “LOVEBIRDS! WE’RE CALLING IT A NIGHT!”

     Why is he so loud?  

 Neji’s body shook with little tremors of laughter, and he knew that Shikamaru would have sounded too annoyed to answer. So he called out. “Sounds good, I’ll be on watch first!”

 Shikamaru knows what he’s doing. He does it all the time.

 Kiba flashed them both a grin, but something about it wasn’t pure and it made Shikamaru want to dig a hole and live in it permanently.

 “Sounds good!”

 “I’ll wake you in two hours.”

 “Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning his back to help put out the fire. But before he did, he shot a look to Shikamaru with a smirk. “Just keep it down, all right? Akamaru’s a light sleeper.”

 And then Shikamaru definitely wanted to be swallowed up by the ground, hitai-ate and all.

 Normally, Neji would be over there, helping, but there was little to do and what there was to be done, was very quick. Lee and Kiba relocated to their tents after their foods were put back in bags, and Hinata to her own tent after she doused the fire with dirt. Neji and Shikamaru stayed as they were, in the few minutes they took to watch their teammates, and it was almost awkward if it weren’t for their friends lack of subtlety.

 They let them have their moment, no questions asked. Shikamaru felt his heart swell again, filled with the unspoken and unconditional love he has with this family. It was a pleasant ache.

 Just a few minutes, and suddenly the dark nature was rich and comfortable and almost absolute around them. A familiar sight in the many years of camping out on missions, the consistent scenery and scents as known to him as the back of his hand. The woods were calm and quiet, and they were alone.

 “So,” Neji started, hands slowed but strengthened, intention growing from his fingertips in every movement. “Not going to bed?”

 Shikamaru relished in the darkness, in the kisses trailing down his neck yet again.

 He smiled into the soft pecks trailing down his neck, this time, and didn’t even pretend to stop them. “It’s a little too early to call it a night, don’t you think?”

 “See, you’re not getting old.”

 “I’ll show you how alive I am,” and Shikamaru kept that promise.

[raendown]

Commission for @cassieeeeanne.

Pairing: KakashiSakura Word count: 3792 Rated: E Summary: Kakashi proposes a naughty little challenge inspired by something he read in Icha Icha and Sakura takes to this new game just a bit better than he expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Icha Icha Made Me Do It

It seemed like such a good idea, very sexy and very risqué in all the right ways, right up until they were both standing on the front porch in a pool of brilliant sunshine and it finally hit home that he was going to have to walk through public like this. That was about the point Kakashi started questioning his life decisions.

For instance: what in the world had possessed him to fall in love with a smart, strong-willed, deliciously attractive woman whose personality managed a uniquely perfect blend of good work ethic and flexible fun? The only thing that had gotten him – besides several years of blissful happiness, of course – was a flushed face that was probably visible even over the edge of his mask and a raging hard-on he probably could have used to give directions to one of the lost old ladies who always seemed to accost him. Not that he was going to. Even he had some boundaries when it came to this stuff.

“How did I let you talk me in to this?” he mumbled while he waited for Sakura to lock the door behind them. She sounded just as breathless as him when she answered, which was at least a small consolation.

“It was your idea.”

“Oh yeah.” Kakashi frowned. “You really need to stop letting me talk you in to things that I find in Icha Icha.”

Her single eyebrow spoke volumes when she raised it in his direction but Kakashi judiciously chose to pretend he had no idea what she was trying to get at. Instead he very carefully shifted his weight to make sure the toy buried inside of him was still in a good position, nothing that would cause any undue gasping when he started to walk. Of course, things would get a lot more difficult once Sakura set her thumb to the remote control she had in her pocket but as soon as she did the game was on and he would be wasting no time retaliating with the remote control he was carrying himself for the vibrator buried deep inside of her.

Something in him wanted to point out how unfair it was that his vibrator had a chance of getting a good run at his prostate to cause extra embarrassment while hers had no chance of going anywhere near her clit but really it was too late for that. He was already lubed and stuffed and so hard his cock probably counted as another weapon. Now was the time to live up to the challenge he himself had proposed.

“Ready?” Sakura’s cheeks were a very pretty shade of pink, as they had been since she first lay back and let him work the vibrator inside her a few minutes before they left the house. Kakashi took a moment to admire how well she was holding herself together before nodding.

“Yup. One romantic evening walk around town coming right up.”

“At least you let me talk you out of going to work like this. Can you imagine me trying to see to my patients like this?” She very carefully stepped over to his side and slid her arm in to his. “Can you imagine trying to sit through official meetings with your council like this?”

“No and also please do not make me imagine the council and sex toys in the same situation.”

Sakura laughed at him but Kakashi shuddered as they stepped out together.

In retrospect he truly was more grateful than he could say that she had talked him out of going to work like this. Only halfway down the street he was cursing himself for this latest ‘brilliant idea’. The toy inside of him was solid and warm and it rubbed in all sorts of interesting ways with every step. By the end of their street he was glad he’d thought to put on an extra pair of underwear because he was already leaking with excitement.

And then the toy began to vibrate unexpectedly.

Rather than swear like a particularly aroused pirate as he wanted to Kakashi bit his tongue and went stiff, bearing up under his wife’s laughter until the sensation stopped, then he turned his hand over in his pocket and went for his own control. He was equal parts proud and disappointed that Sakura’s reaction was as controlled as his own. A part of him had been hoping for a loud squeal.

They walked together for more than an hour, both of their fingers on and off the controls at random times and with no discernable pattern, each trying to push the other farther towards the edge while also clinging to sanity by a thread themselves. For each deserted street Kakashi chose to wander down Sakura laughingly steered them towards a busier one just to torture him for his own poor decisions. Never had he been so glad that the new model of flak vests hung low enough for the shadow to make an excellent disguise for any wetness that was sure to bleed through his clothing eventually.

After the first hour Kakashi was beginning to wonder if he might actually have to pause and bend over to lose himself in his pants in some random back alley and despite their halting attempts to keep up a steady conversation he found his mind was filled with little more than filthy desires and fantasies he hadn’t entertained in quite some time. If their game didn’t end soon he was getting dangerously close to tapping out first because clearly he was the only one struggling with this challenge.

Or he thought he was until, to his great surprise, Sakura pushed him in to an alley and buried her head against his shoulder to muffle a scream in the material of his vest.

“I think that’s all the acting skills I have in me,” she panted against his chest. Kakashi blinked down at her.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god I can’t take it anymore. I’m done.”

“But you’ve been holding it together better than I have this whole time!” He cried.

She lifted her head to glare at him and only then did he see what he had been too distracted to see until now. It made so much more sense now why she had so stubbornly kept her eyes straight ahead and ducked her chin whenever they passed someone else too closely on the street. Her cheeks were still flushed, which could have been attributed to the heat of a long summer day, but her eyes were desperate and feral in a way he only ever saw in the bedroom. She looked ready to be devoured.

“Acting skills indeed,” he said in wonder. “I never even heard your voice shake once.”

“Yeah, great, I’ll get a day job acting. Please take me home and fuck me. Kakashi, please. I need to come so bad.”

It was a rare occasion indeed when he could get a strong woman like Sakura anywhere close to begging. Kakashi wrapped both arms around his wife and brought his hands together for a body flicker.

They were gone from the alley in an instant and as soon as they landed in their bedroom he could not have said what alley they had been in or what roads they had travelled in the time since they had left. Extended pleasure had left his brain mush and his body vibrating as surely as the toy buried within him. Both of them collapsed against each other with a gasp as soon as they were sure they had arrived somewhere private, their eyes closed and their bodies quaking together for want of the explosive orgasm dangling just out of reach.

“I don’t even care what you choose for your prize,” Sakura growled, “just let me come, I am begging you.”

“Okay…so here’s the thing.” Kakashi swallowed thickly and twitched, holding back a mewl of want when Sakura scrambled for the remote she appeared to only just realize she had left on.

“You better not have just come in your pants!”

“No, although I am man enough to admit that I had a couple close calls.” Kakashi pulled his mask down to give his wife a considering look. “I was just going to say that, ah, I know that you won but I don’t think we’ve ever talked about what I was going to ask for my prize. After all this I’ve got…a craving.”

Sakura eyed him carefully, impatience humming under her skin. “Go on.”

“Have you ever pegged anyone before?”

“Oh. Um, no I haven’t. I imagine the mechanics of it are fairly easy to figure out though and, well, you’re already all…open. Or however you say it.” To his relief she didn’t seem put off by the idea, only a little thrown by the unexpected request. It had been a while since Kakashi had given much thought to being on the receiving end of anything but a blowjob, not since the two of them started dating a few years back, and suddenly he very much regretted not bringing this up earlier.

Apparently he could have been satisfied in a whole other host of ways this entire time.

Casting his eyes over towards his half of their shared closet he murmured, “I still have the harness you would need and the straps are adjustable…”

“You’re not going to tell I can’t get myself off after, are you?” Her question made him squirm and Kakashi may have been blushing a little when he ducked his head and peeked up at her through his drooping fringe.

“No I wasn’t gonna tell you to do anything. Actually, I was sort of hoping it would be you telling me what to do.” Hopefully she got his meaning from that because while he had never been ashamed of his own tastes before that didn’t make it any easier to request his wife of two years dominate him for the first time. Change was never easy for him.

Even when that change sounded delicious and promised to end with satisfaction on both sides.

Still, Sakura looked genuinely intrigued by his suggestion. Her eyes roamed down his body and Kakashi didn’t bother hiding the shiver as his own imagination took off trying to figure out what filthy things were going on in hers. He was so distracted thinking about it he almost didn’t notice when she slipped one hand in to her pocket for the same remote control that had been driving him wild since they left the house before.

The sensation was so unexpected after he had finally allowed himself to stop anticipating it that the short burst of vibration shocked a cry out of him and folded his legs, leaving him kneeling on the floor at Sakura’s feet. When she smirked he could only swallow thickly and thank the gods he’d been smart enough to marry this amazing woman.

“Well, well. How kind of you to get in to position without being asked. If you want your own satisfaction, Mr. Hatake, I’m afraid you’ll have to earn it with mine.” She lifted that single eyebrow again and he didn’t need to follow what her hands were doing to guess what she wanted.

“Yes mistress,” he breathed.

“Mistress, huh? I think I like that. You may please your mistress now, Kakashi.” Sakura beckoned him forward with one finger but Kakashi was already reaching for the hem of her skirt.

Her clothing fell away easily enough and Kakashi had his tongue circling her clit almost the instant she was exposed to the air. Sakura gasped above him and slid her fingers in to his hair with a firm grip, though she allowed him to move as he wished and offered no other commands but a breathy, “More!”

So more is what he gave her. With his tongue already hard at work Kakashi slid both hands up the inside of her thighs to wrap his fingers around the toy he himself had worked inside her not too long ago. She was dripping wet, the underwear he had just removed for her soaked through, and that made it deliciously easier to grip the toy to slowly pull it out. Her moan of pleasure was cut off when he slid the toy back in at just the right angle, becoming a sharp cry as her hips rocked in to the motion unconsciously to grind against his face.

With how worked up she was already it was no surprise that it didn’t take very long. Kakashi moaned each time the hand in his hair tightened to bring him closer but never once did his tongue let up and his fingers refused to pause in working the toy until Sakura was shuddering and breaking, the other hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping her from falling over. She never let go of his hair, however, and Kakashi had dabbled in this kind of play enough times to know that it wasn’t for him to decide when he should stop, although he doubted that was really at the forefront of his wife’s mind in that moment.

He stopped only when Sakura pushed him away and demanded in a shaking voice that he pull the toy out of her completely, which he did with agonizing slowness for no reason other than to tease her with the fact that she hadn’t been very specific. After she had gathered herself enough to speak properly she slid one hand under his chin and lifted it to meet her gaze. Kakashi quivered under the heat in her eyes.

“Now would be a good time for you to fetch that harness, pet.”

Feet slipping and limbs suddenly clumsy in their haste, Kakashi all but flung himself towards his side of their doublewide closet and dug deep in to the back where he had shoved all the boxes from his old apartment that never got unpacked. The harness jingled merrily when he pulled it out of the box, leather supple against his skin, and already he could feel his body clenching in anticipation.

Sakura was the very vision of a dominatrix as she took a firm power stance and ordered him to put the harness on for her. In that moment Kakashi could think of nothing else he would rather do. He nearly shook with anticipation as he fitted the straps to her body and secured one of the toys he only ever used when she wasn’t home in the front. He almost expected his wife to take a moment to get used to the new addition but it only took one look for him to see he was wrong.

“Bend over the foot of the bed,” Sakura commanded. “And spread your legs for me.”

“Yes mistress!” He was there in an instant, twitching with need and more eager than he could ever remember being for any of his previous partners. A whimper escaped his lips when he felt her take a good grip on his hair again to pull his head back for a filthy kiss.

“Good boy,” she murmured against his lips.

There was no time for another whimper as a deep groan was torn from him when she took hold of the electric toy that had been driving him insane for the past hour and more. The flared base pulled at his entrance in a way had him making fists in the bedsheets and breathing hard until finally it was sliding out and he was woefully empty. Even before Sakura got her hands on his hips Kakashi was arching his back and presenting, begging to be filled again, desperate in a way he’d almost forgotten he could be.

Certainly he’d been desperate for Sakura’s touch before; their sex life was anything but boring. But there was a different kind of excitement in fucking his wife up against a wall than there was in bending over to let her fuck him instead. This was a whole new world of things for them to explore together. He only wished he’d thought to suggest these things earlier in their relationship.

At the first touch of something slick and blunt Kakashi gasped, wondering how he could have possibly let his mind wander far enough that he hadn’t noticed her grabbing the lube to apply to her new toy.

“How much can you take, hm pet? Would you like me to tease you?” Sakura rolled her hips to torment his entrance until he whined softly. “Oh, but you’re already open for me, aren’t you? I’ll bet you’d rather I just get straight to fucking you hard like you so obviously want.”

“Please fuck me, mistress,” he gasped, barely able to squeeze the words out.

“That’s what I thought. So eager.”

Sakura pet his hair a couple of times and, like a cat, Kakashi felt his body melting under the soft touch until her hips pressed forward without warning and he was arching again at the sensation of a thick head breaching him. It wasn’t quite the full thrust he might have expected from someone with more experience who understood what he could take but he understood Sakura’s hesitance and refrained from anything other than begging her to fuck him deeper, harder.

And she listened, of course. The moment she had drawn her mental boundaries was clear as Kakashi felt two tiny hands taking a firm grip on either side of his thighs and then it was all his could do to hold on tight to the bedding, riding the cock fucking him from behind, high on the voice that murmured praise and encouragement above him. All he could think – besides how incredible it felt and how close he already was to coming – was that he hoped she was enjoying this as much as he was because they needed to do this again sometime. Very soon.

That’s what he was thinking right up until the moment he realized that his wife was a medical professional, she would know better than anyone where the prostate was, and that she must have been deliberately avoiding it this whole time. She was edging him; and if he knew his wife then he could guess that she wanted him to beg before she let him finish.

Which he was not above doing. Kami but this woman was perfect for him.

“Please mistress, may I come?” Kakashi clenched around the toy as it slid in again and paused for Sakura to shiver against his back.

“Of course pet. You may come now since you’ve been so well behaved.” Her hips rolled back and Kakashi knew that when she thrust forward her aim would be true. Before she could move again he hurried to turn his head and babble out one last request.

“Wait! Could- could you pull my hair again? Please?”

“Anything you like,” she purred.

Fingers slid in to his hair and Kakashi’s eyes were already rolling back in pleasure at the pull against his roots even before she pressed him down over the end of the bed and began to fuck him in earnest, each stroke drawing out helpless cries of pleasure until finally the angle shifted ever so slightly and he saw stars, ecstasy ripping through him on the first hit. His orgasm rolled through him like wildfire, heat rushing through his veins and leaving him breathless.

Not until he was truly begging for mercy did Sakura stop fucking him, letting her hips come to rest with the toy buried deep inside and the leather of her harness pressed up against his overheated skin. It took several seconds of gulping air like a drowning man before Kakashi blinked and realized he was staring sightlessly at nothing and seeing only the white noise inside his own head. When the room came back in to focus he realized that he had actual torn the sheets with both hands. Some part of him absently mourned the loss of the expensive bedding he had only just bought a few months ago but most of him was concentrating on the feeling of Sakura’s palms skimming up and down his back.

“Thank you mistress,” he mumbled and then smiled when it startled a laugh out of his wife.

“It truly was my pleasure,” Sakura admitted. “I don’t think I would mind trying this again some time. Maybe revisit the bits where you called me mistress and follow my orders without question. That part I liked.”

Kakashi chuckled weakly. “I am not surprised.”

Getting cleaned up afterwards was interesting. After so long being filled in one way or another it was strange when Sakura pulled her hips away very slowly and he was empty once more, fidgeting while she used a few wipes to clean away the excess lube around his entrance. She laughed brightly when he called her solicitous.  

Watching Sakura struggle with the harness and fighting her way out of the straps without bothering to remove the toy from it first was more funny than sexy and by the time Kakashi was able to pull her down in to the bed for a much needed nap before dinner her found that he was in higher spirits than he could remember in the past little while. Things had been tense for both of them at work lately, part of the reason he had proposed this game as a way to relieve a bit of tension, but now he was little more than a puddle between the sheets with Sakura’s warm weight curled around his side.

“I’m glad you talk me in to weird stuff,” she told him in a thoughtful voice.

“Maa, I’m glad you let me.”

“Let’s do something else weird soon. You’ve probably got all sorts of stuff in that closet, don’t you?”

“I do,” Kakashi admitted. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss against Sakura’s hair. “And I would be very happy to show you a few new tricks. Thank you for not laughing me out of the house when I suggested this.”

After a bit of shuffling she was in a good position to push herself up and press a light kiss against his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said in return.

He closed his eyes, determined to get at least an hour of sleep before one of them had to get up to cook dinner. Those plans changed, however, when Sakura pressed another kiss against his cheek and he opened one eye to find her peering across the room at their closet with the bright light of adventure in her gaze.

It looked like maybe he would get to pull out his box of tricks a little earlier than expected.

[cerastes]

Years ago, I wanted to make a game. It didn’t pan out due to problems in the team, but I’ve always kept the plot and details of the game dear and never really put it out there in hopes of turning it into a short story instead, some 11 to 13 chapters. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize it is impossible to do so in a direct manner, due to how Video Game the core concept is, that is, it simply wouldn’t work in a literary format, at least not with the same oopmh it’d have as the game I conceived it as. Today, I will reveal all of it, in part because I want to get it out of my chest, in part because I don’t want for this to go unshared and forever trapped in the sands of “maybe one day”. A writing prompt I have pending has to do with this, and that is still coming, but otherwise, this is all about the game I wanted to make, “Notches”, a side-scroller action-platformer game.

Big, long post under the cut. It’s a design document, after all!

This is Part 2, in which I will explain the Shattering and the Grievous Attack mechanics, gameplay mechanics exclusive to Lantern Boss Fights, which are different from the regular Boss Fights we’ve discussed so far. We’ll also get acquainted with three boss fights: The Spider-legged Doctor, Delwin, The 4th Lantern of Manjha, Mirko, and The 6th Lantern of Gemini, Cecile/Vogt. We’ll explore the boss fights themselves as well as the lore of the characters and their place in the story.

Here’s a link to Part 1!

Let’s change up the pace and introduce a Boss Fight that isn’t a dual boss fight! Doctor Delwin Pardosa shall meet you as the boss of the Anti-Soul Laboratories stage. Delwin “wields” what seems to be several small black cubes with blue “veins” that float around him, but you’d be surprised to hear that this isn’t what’s most notorious about Delwin! See, out of his right shoulder, four massive, long, thick spider legs protrude, upon which he normally stands. He looks like a regular scientist, he does, with a lab coat, some khakis, and a coffee-stained green shirt, just, with four massive spider legs protruding from his right shoulder, slicked back hair, black hands with blue veins, and long fangs that suggest that maybe there’s nothing mere about this human any longer. It seems the good doctor has been playing with things we should say “no” to, morally speaking, but would immediately say “hell yeah!” to should the chance present itself (don’t lie). In any case, Doctor Delwin opens up with saying “You’ve caused enough trouble, you little skunk. You’re coming back with us, senseless or limbless if you must. In fact, you get to choose, and I recommend the former”. Summergale simply smirks, golden smile flashing a shine, and responds with “You know, Doc, I always none too subtly wanted to throttle your pencil-pushing neck, I just really wish it wasn’t under these damn circumstances, man”. Delwin lowers his gaze just slightly, his cubes still floating around him in orderly chaos, and murmurs back, “Believe me, Summer, neither did I wish for this, but you leave us no choice”. The cutscene ends, and the fight begins. Delwin has immense mobility thanks to his mutant spider legs, being able to move fast and to stick to the walls of the arena. You must constantly stay on the move while dodging the cubes he seemingly magnetically throws at you. Whenever a cube has missed or you have shot it to deflect it, don’t get careless, because cubes then re-lock onto you and go at you again! There’s three different kinds of cubes: Small, Medium, and Big. The Big ones only go at you once before returning to Delwin, the Medium ones will go at you twice, while the Small ones will pursue you three times before going back to the good doctor. For the First Phase, he mostly just sticks to the walls and ceiling while launching cubes at you, with the occasional swipe of a big hitbox leg to catch you off guard when you’re all up in his grill, shooting the hell out of him. Of note is, if you can get close enough to him, using a Ruby Shot (point blank explosion shot) will knock him right out of the wall or ceiling, making him crash onto the floor and leaving him vulnerable for a couple of shots. Usage of the Ruby Vulture technique (using Ruby Shots to navigate mid air via the explosions, launching yourself in the opposite direction of where you shoot a Ruby Shot midair) is recommended, although in moderation, as many Ruby Shots will exhaust your Mana quickly! Once you reach 75% of his HP, Delwin’s true strategy, Phase Two, begins! Using the magnetic connection between his hands and his cubes, Delwin assembles the cubes together in different shapes, creating Weapon Formations. By combining his many cubes in different shapes, Delwin is able to create different weapons, using a rich diversity of attacks. He’ll sometimes form the cubes in a Sword Formation, always Dyed blue, swiping at you a number of times before dissolving the formation (or immediately, if you clash it thrice). There’s also the Guillotine Formation, which consists of a number of cubes swarming you quickly, colliding with you for no damage, but pushing you and trying to hold you still, while the rest of the cubes form a guillotine blade above you, which soon comes chopping down for big damage. Melee and shoot at the cubes rapidly so you can move out of the way in time, simply jumping or Quickstepping away won’t work! Delwin can also form the cubes together in a Flak Formation, forming several autocannons around him briefly before they all begin shooting a barrage of bullets at you. Keep moving or you’ll get caught! Last but not least, there’s the Prowler Formation, which assembles the cubes into many different flying pods that pursue you and open fire autonomously while the good doctor tries to bum rush you with spider kicks. Watch out for the shots and the spider leg strikes, and don’t panic! The Prowlers are Dyed red, so shoot them out of the air while timing your Quicksteps so as to not get hit by Delwin’s spider kicks and stomps. Keep dodging and responding appropriately to each Formation until you empty his life bar, making him collapse, the cubes falling helplessly, raining around him as the harmlessly hit the floor. The “STAGE COMPLETE” message begins to appear from the bottom of the screen, but as the letters ascend, Delwin knocks them away with a spider kick. “No! Not yet! You stubborn fool, you selfish imbecile! It doesn’t end like this! I’m dragging you back comatose if I have to, Summer!” As he yells, Delwin’s life bar reappears, and it fills back to 30%. This begins the Third and final Phase of Doctor Delwin. Standing up on his human legs, not his spider legs, Delwin raises an arm and assembles all of his cubes in Prowler Formation, in which they will remain for the rest of the fight, and then produces a retractable baton. Not using his big mutated spider legs, the doctor moves far less than before, but he moves around with Quicksteps now that, much like your own, have i-frames. He becomes practically impossible to hit with his Quickstep spam, and attacking too much will prompt a counterswing or leave you open to Prowler fire. His Prowlers are still Dyed red, but shooting them out just temporarily puts them out. He’ll Quickstep towards you and swipe, during which he becomes Dyed blue. You can clash with him by using melee, and you’ll enter a button mashing mini-game, in which you must press melee or space (if you don’t feel comfortable with mashing your right click too hard so as to not abuse your mouse) repeatedly as Summergale clutches the baton and tries to overpower Delwin. Be careful! Prowlers still shoot at you in this situation, not dealing damage but giving advantage to Delwin, so shoot down as many as you can before engaging in the clash. If Delwin wins the mash-out, he bashes the baton against Summergale’s head, damaging and paralyzing her before lashing out at her with all four legs, hitting her for heavy damage and blowing her away. If Summergale wins the mash-out, she throws the baton away, grabs her rifle by the barrel like a baseball bat, and swings it violently at Delwin, dealing a heavy damage and leaving him at a smidgen of HP (near 8%). After this, the player loses control of Summergale as she drops her rifle, approaches the downed Delwin and puts him in a Sleeper Hold. You must then mash Space again to slowly deplete the rest of his life bar. This is more of an ‘interactive’ cutscene at this point, with Summergale pleading for him to just give up while he keeps screaming back at her. “It’ll all be over before you know it, you dumbass! Let me do my job!” Summergale chastises as she chokes Delwin out. “You... Arc damned... Fool... You won’t surv... We can find another... Way to do this... Summer... Think of Sigrun and... The rest of...!” As he finally hits 0% HP, he’s finally out for good, unconscious, and you’ve defeated Doctor Delwin. “There’s simply no time, Delwin...” Summergale murmurs before picking up her rifle and moving on as the “Stage Complete” message pops up again. Momentum opportunities come from interacting with anything Dyed (clashing melee against his Sword Formation and shooting Prowlers), but otherwise, don’t expect much Avalanche against him; he’s a cautious man, which is reflected by how little Momentum you receive (by design, you’re expected to get one, maybe two Avalanches against him).

Haunted Tea Sets reveal that Delwin, along with Sigrun, were the ones that found Summergale in the first place. As her body was carried by the river, they were the ones that were there and hauled her out of it, immediately bringing her back to Delwin’s laboratory in Oflans, the only place remotely technological in the otherwise small town, where they tried their best to care for her. Delwin might be a doctor, but he’s not the healing kind of doctor, so it was all a process of trial and hopefully no error. Summergale was lucky that Delwin was adept enough, and when she woke up, she thanked him and introduced herself as... As... Ah, hey, sorry, do you know who I might be...? Those words came out of her mouth as Sigrun and Delwin looked at her with concern: Amnesiac and beaten up all over. No doubt whatever left her to die in the river didn’t go easy on her. She also made a rather honest and rude comment on his spider legs, but Delwin would like us to not go into that. Delwin is a magitech and physics-focused scientist who enjoys a productive partnership with Sigrun the Blacksmith: He comes up with innovative designs, and Sigrun helps him with the manufacturing process. Sigrun’s clearly much more interested in the more traditional kind of weaponry, but the techniques she’s learned from making Delwin’s ideas into reality has been an invaluable experience. While Sigrun and Summergale became fast friends, the same cannot be said about Delwin and Summergale. Their relationship was vitriolic, and not in the fun and games way, but Summergale knew he was a good man despite his crude, caustic personality, and Delwin knew she was a good woman despite her rowdy, devil-may-care attitude, so they put up with the situation and had a real, if unspoken, respect for each other. Delwin was heavily opposed to Summergale interfering with Markus when he came to squat, but following the voice of her heart, and also Sigrun’s cheering for her to break his nose, she went and beat him up. He’s also the one who cooked up a method to get in the castle: By using samples of Summergale’s blood that he took to determine her blood type in case she ever needed a blood transfusion (a thorough man, this Delwin), he made a “blood perfume” that he sprayed on himself, Sigrun, and Axehilt, riding on the hypothesis that Ceoca Castle searches for specific blood matches in order to determine who goes in and who doesn’t. Seeing as the castle let them in, it seems he was right! Or not. It’s not the blood perfume that let them in, as an out-of-the-way Haunted Tea Set will reveal. The blood perfume was a red herring crafted by the good doctor, and the castle simply recognized Delwin, as he used to work in its Research And Development division at the Anti-Soul Laboratories, where he is a boss. This is lightly hinted at because, while Sigrun and Axehilt are lost as all hell and basically wandering around having their own adventure while hoping to come across Summergale, Delwin knew more or less exactly where to go, as there IS a sense of consistency even with the spatial chaos that rends and twists the castle’s insides, and he banked on Summergale needing to go through the Laboratories. His dialogue is intended to imply that he was waiting for her there, unlike Sigrun, who runs into you. Delwin’s spider legs... Will be elaborated on later.

But that’s enough of these outliers, right? Let’s talk about the Dim Lanterns. The Dim Lanterns are Royal Operatives of Phebea that answer directly to the King and Queen of Phebea, and while they are an elite unit dispatched for important tasks, they were assembled for a very, very specific purpose, and to be able to carry out this important mission, Phebea, a small time kingdom trapped between giants, developed truly remarkable weapons: The Lanterns. The Lanterns possess great power and allow very specific manners of rending reality apart to accomplish something or emulate an ability, and nothing like them has ever been created before. Armed with these, the Dim Lanterns were loved by those who knew of them and feared by those who opposed them. When Ceoca Castle closed up, however, people stopped seeing them, and rumors immediately began popping up that, perhaps, it was them that put the chairs up, turned the lights off, and locked those doors...

The Dim Lanterns serve as the main “Boss Squad”, if you will, in the game. They are very explicitly hostile towards Summergale, and she’d REALLY love to know why this is. Let’s talk about the first Lantern you meet in battle! Mirko The 4th Lantern wields the Manjha Lantern, visually identical to a regular railroad lantern, which Mirko holds by the handle. swinging lo and forth with his every footstep. However, this Lantern endows Mirko with the ability to use razor light. Every light source in a radius around him can be controlled into tendrils of cutting light by Mirko. Mirko is actually a very early game boss, and as mentioned previously, the first Lantern you fight. The purpose of Mirko was not only to introduce the player to Lantern Bosses, but also to drive home the point that Notches is in media res, as in, things were definitely happening before the start of the game, things you can and will find out about, but that you don’t initially know, even if the characters do. When Mirko shows up, his upper torso is covered in bandages and he clearly isn’t at his best. “You ended up coming, you mongrel! Couldn’t just leave it alone, huh? Turning around and walking away just isn’t in your dictionary… And I banked on that.”. Summergale shakes her head and simply points her rifle at him. “I already mangled you once, I sure as hell can and want to do it again”. Mirko fakes a guffaw and then turns his Lantern on, a myriad of tentacles of light sprawling out of the bulbs. “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, you lowlife. We’ve already won. The party’s already going on in the Throne room, and there’s no way for you to stop the gears. I’m just here for myself. Can’t quite let you walk away after leaving me like this, now can I, mongrel!?” The fight begins and, as Mirko is an early game boss, he’s very straight forward and not too fancy. A bit of etymology! “Manjha” is cured and gummed thread covered in powdered glass used in kite fights. The Manjha Lantern takes its name from this thread, as its ability to manipulate light into something physical is used primarily, but not exclusively, to generate hundreds of light threads to cut down foes. Mirko will telegraph long range attacks and lash out with tendrils of light in different patterns: Two tendril thrust, three tendril ascending lashes, a number of tendrils raining on you from above, attempting to pincushion you to the ground, etc. He’s straight forward and attacks with his razor light as you’d expect. Hitting 75% of his HP adds a new move: Matches. Mirko will produce three matches on one hand and, by striking them against his coarse, falconer-like leather gauntlet, will light them. Mirko then flicks the lit matches at Summergale. Lit matches are a source of light, and thus, fall within the jurisdiction of his power, letting him sprawl tendrils of light from them, thus giving Mirko a lot more points of attack from which to strike at you. It all becomes a fight about managing his matches (by shooting them) and dodging appropriately. Shooting matches will award Momentum. Mirko also functions as the tutorial for the Shattering mechanic. Shattering is exclusive to Lantern Boss Fights, and it involves attacking the Lantern during a specific window of time (Shatter Moments) to inflict Shatter on the boss, and what does Shatter do? It functions as a special stun state that allow you to land a Grievous Attack on the boss, powerful attacks with special animations that deal considerable damage. Mirko’s particular Shatter Moment is when he’s striking his matches, taking attention off from his Lantern. Hitting the Lantern doesn’t deal damage to the boss (usually), but it does deplete their Lantern HP, which takes the form of icons depicting their Lantern under their HP bar. Each boss has different amounts of Lantern HP, with Mirko having 2. You hit his Shatter Moment twice, and BAM, you earn a Grievous Attack. The moment you earn a Grievous Attack, a marker will appear somewhere on the arena, such as right next to the boss, or a few character’s width away, or maybe above the boss. Move to the marker during the Shatter Stun and then use Shoot or Melee to use the Grievous Attack. In Mirko’s case, you need to stand right next to him. Using Shoot results in Summergale hitting Mirko in the stomach with three consecutive uppercuts, lifting him off the floor and then using her rifle while he’s above her to stab him in the stomach, exploding him away with a Ruby Shot. Melee, on the other hand, has Summergale thrust her hand in his bandaged injuries, draining a ton of Mana from his and then kicking him away. This deals less damage that the Shoot Grievous, but it seals away his Match attack for a while and restores your MP! That’s the general rule behind Grievous Attacks! A Shoot Grievous does a lot of damage, while a Melee Grievous recharges all of your MP and inflicts a debuff on the boss, usually locking away their most powerful attacks for a bit. Knowing whether to use Shoot G or Melee G is essential: Do I go for big damage? Or do I seal an annoying attack for a while at the cost of damage? I want the player to ask themselves this question when fighting different Lantern Bosses! Maybe you’re good at dealing with the particular attack the Melee G seals, so you go for extra damage instead! Maybe you particularly have trouble with the move, so you seal it and thus are able to deal with the fight much more easily for some time, racking up damage! It’s up to you! This continues until he drops. Simple! Very early game boss, and in fact he was designed with “First boss of the game” in mind. He’s actually the prototype of the Dim Lanterns in general, with a simplistic power compared to those of his peers. As the boss ends, Mirko curses your name and bleeds out, forcing a stiff, bitter laughter as the light abandons his eyes, reminding you that “the ball is already rolling, mongrel...!”. And so ends Mirko’s life, his Lantern shattering. Instead of her usual Stage Complete pose, Summergale instead takes out a small knife and carves another notch on the stock of her rifle.

...However, this is not the last you see of Mirko! Well, in a way, it is, but remember what I said before? That Mirko was meant to show that the narrative of Notches is in media res? Well! Let’s introduce a new gameplay mechanic! Some Haunted Tea Sets unlock boss fights that took place before the game’s start in the form of playable flashbacks. After unlocking certain Haunted Tea Sets that have to do with each other (let’s say, for example, #3, #7, and #21), the memories jostled by these associated flashbacks will unlock a new memory in Summergale, which allows her to remember or reminisce about events that took place before the game’s chronological beginning, especially fights! Mirko dies as the first boss, but MUCH later in the game, you unlock his Flashback Fight! In this fight, Mirko is much tougher. He’s not wounded and he’s at top condition, unlike the ‘first’ fight, which had him severely wounded. I had the idea of giving Mirko a pretty big HP bar in the first fight, but only filled up to around a third of its total capacity, to reflect that he was badly, badly wounded. Now, that big HP bar is full, and Mirko gets access to his full moveset! Unlike the prior fights, I will begin explaining the lore and plot of the fight, and then proceed to the boss fight per se, as it is important to know the context for Mirko’s second round (but first chronologically) to make sense of a big part of his arsenal this time around.

Mirko is the 4th Lantern of the Dim Lanterns, a hot headed young adult who’s got what it takes to talk the talk and walk the walk. Rising the ranks of the Phebean Army quickly thanks to his motivation and vim, he was hand-picked by the King to participate in the Lantern Project after winning an unsanctioned fistfight tournament the soldiers organized by themselves and that the King caught wind of. The King of Phebea, a capricious man with an intense love for the people and the things the people did for entertainment, disguised himself as a civilian and attended the tournament, cheering and jeering with the best of them. After Mirko won, some bad cats that didn’t particularly agree to his underdog victory, mostly due to losing big at the betting table, were looking to introduce Mirko to their daggers, but the King, a man with experience in the realm of rotten eggs due to his political background, immediately caught on and announced his presence, stopping them in their tracks and inducting Mirko to the good life of high society and elite guardsmanship. After a brief stint as a royal guard and tavern hero at Ceoca Castle, the King asked him if he wished to volunteer for the Lantern Project, and Mirko, eternally thankful to the King, accepted. Mirko was assigned the 4th Lantern, the Manjha Lantern, which made good use of his imagination and stamina to properly draw out the hidden potential of the otherwise simple Lantern; The Manjha Lantern was always meant to be a support Lantern to the others, not one to operate by itself. The ability to manipulate light as a hard construct might sound simple, but it is its simplicity that makes it so strong: By functioning as support to other Lanterns, he effectively can keep their Lanterns safe by erecting razor tendrils from them, as their Lanterns, being a source of light, fall under the jurisdiction of his power.

When Markus reported that someone name of ‘Summergale’ had thoroughly trounced him, Mirko immediately departed the castle and headed for this backwater village. Though he didn’t find her in Oflans, he simply asked if anyone knew where she was, and the townspeople, who admire the Dim Lanterns and Summergale, thought he came to offer her a job with them, and immediately told him her whereabouts: The Jalibu Plains, to the northwest of Oflans Town. The Jalibu Plains were known for being beautiful and full of greenery, and on that particular day, Summergale was accompanying the wheelchair-bound Benson Lomprat, aspiring mapmaker, through the plains so he could properly draw the map of the geography on his up-and-coming map. The Lomprat Family (more on them later when we tackle the plot in full!) is the household that took Summergale in initially after she was found in the river. Benson, 15 years old, the son of the household, has always been handy with ink, his dreams of drawing an accurate map of Phebea were only slightly curbed by his disability. He didn’t want to make just any old map, oh no, he wanted to make a truly dedicated, detailed map of his homeland, with illustrations and trivia of the flora and fauna, where one could find cultural heritage, the whole nine (and more!) yards. Summergale would take the passionate Benson on treks through the Oflans countryside to help him with his dream. Unfortunately, this particular outing to the Jalibu Plains would see some problem: Bugbears. Creatures native to these plains, these brutish monsters are intensely territorial, and while they usually keep to the hillside borders just outside the Plains, they sometimes intrude, and today seemed to be one day. There’s a cutscene here, where Summergale and Benson have some small talk before two Bugbears arrive and threaten them. “Alright, Benny, hang on tight, I’ll deal with these punks before the ink on your feather dries!” “...That sounded cooler in your head, didn’t it, Summer?” “I’m going to feed you to them.” The cutscene ends and you fight these two enemies. Despite their intimidating appearance, they are actually an easy fight. However, once you finish them off, a clapping is heard in the distance. It’s Mirko, and he compliments you on your fine riflemanship: “...Well, you were always pretty damn formidable with your hands.” Summergale is shocked, as that statement implies he knows her. “Wait... You know who I am? E-excellent…! Please, please tell me, who was I in the past?” It’s here that Mirko realizes she’s amnesiac, and he can only laugh. Plead as she might, however, the mysterious man refuses to divulge any information, and ultimately says “beat it out of me, if you can, you filthy dog!”.

The real boss fight with Mirko begins now. His patterns are far more complex and he plays a lot more with delays to throw off your dodge timing. Unlike before, shooting at him wildly will prompt a counterattack in the form of him catching your bullets and shooting them back at you with Light Tendrils if you overdo it. He also uses the matches from the get-go, meaning you can have to keep an eye out for his multiple sources of light and their fluid attacks at all times. Unlike the first fight, Mirko also tosses out flashbangs, which, if your are caught in the blast radius off, stun you, but even without the stun effect, they produce short-lived, VERY damaging masses of Light Tendrils. The flashbangs are Dyed red, and shooting them makes them explode. If you can shoot one in front of Mirko, he will become stunned himself, an act that awards you plenty of Momentum. His Lantern HP is now 5 instead of 2. However, the true terror of Mirko starts at 50% HP. When he hits half health, a small cutscene begins in which he yells “Every time…. Every time! You Arc damned obstinate, obscene mongrel! Even back in the castle, every time, you…!” A myriad of tendrils sprawl out of Mirko’s Lantern and start piercing the Bugbear corpses, making them rise on their feet as puppets controlled by Mirko’s threads of cruel light. The fight resumes, and now you have to fight the ever-rising Bugbears as you handle Mirko himself simultaneously. Emptying the Bugbears’ HP bars makes them collapse momentarily, but Mirko soon enough sews them back together and makes them rise and haul with his Tendrils. In addition to his prior strategies, now he organizes team attacks with the Bugbears, such as making them rush you and then attacking you right after you Quickstep with a tight timing, or making them do a grapple attack that holds you in place while he uses a powerful charge attack or throws a flashbang to deal big damage to you. Mirko’s Flashback Boss Fight is meant to be a fairly difficult micromanagement-based fight that tests you on quick decisions, but it’s still mid-game level stuff. The Bugbears are pretty fragile, and if you hit Mirko with the flashbang trick, he loses control of them, making them crumple. It’s all about finding the right timing, as there’s a lot to keep in mind, but Mirko and the Bugbears are rather slow. Keep a calm head, deal with each attack as it comes, and you should emerge victorious.

After the fight, Mirko, gravely wounded, still refuses to speak a word about Summergale’s past, claims this isn’t over, and rips open the Bugbears, spreading their blood around in a spectacular manner. Summergale is about to go at him again, but Benson cries out to Summer, warning her that they must leave immediately: Bugbear blood is pungent, and it attracts other Bugbears, enraging them. The area will soon crawl with Bugbears from all the blood spread from these two, and so Summergale gives up and takes Benson and herself out of there… But not before Mirko says one last thing: “It doesn’t matter if you have your memories or not… It’s already begun, and not even you can stop it now. Just go back to your hovel and await the great news, traitor”. Summergale didn’t quite fully understand this, but her stomach felt like a bottomless chasm when the words “It’s already begun” reached her ears: She didn’t know what that meant, but just judging from her body’s response, she knew something: It was bad, and it had to do with her.

Well… More on Mirko later, when we tackle the plot in full. He is, in a way, one of the catalysts of the story, after all. After this, they meet in the castle and Summergale kills him, as mentioned previously.

But enough about Mirko, let’s meet the last entry in this post… Or shall I say, Entries. Plural.

“Another dual boss, Dreamer?” you no doubt asked yourself. No, but at the same time, yes! That’s my answer, and this is my explanation: The 6th Lantern of Gemini, Cecile/Vogt.

In an area known as the “Numb Gaol”, the otherwise unnamed underground prison of Ceoca Castle, Summergale and the player, surrounded by torture tools and chains that have not seen sunlight in years, will do battle with Cecile. Cecile, much like Summergale, is tanned, which contrasts beautifully with her light blue hair. However, neither of these is the most striking aspect of Cecile, oh no, that’d be her crown of horns. Cecile’s eyes are completely covered by what can only be described as a crown of horns. Cecile is a Glaistan, from the Glais Commonwealth, a country in the Southern Half of the continent known for its goat-like people. Most Glaistans have a set of two long horns, but Cecile is an abnormality, possessing instead an innumerable amount of smaller horns that grew like an unkempt garden on her forehead area and around her head, covering her eyes. Cecile wields the 6th Lantern, the Pact Lantern, which looks exactly like a traffic light. Cecile wears the seemingly unwieldy pole-supported traffic light on her back without a problem, which contrasts with her purple robes with silver patterns. The Glaistan expresses her gratitude for being able to confront Summergale, telling her not to worry about the torture tools surrounding them: She plans to kill her at the first opportunity. Summergale responds with “What, you don’t want to hear how I did that in the first place?”, which is immediately shot down by Cecile with “Oh, don’t try to to get any impassioned hint from me like that. Mirko already told me you don’t remember a thing. It’s a pity you’ll die without knowing why… You won’t be able to repent in the afterlife, and the mere thought makes me ache, but it is what it is.”

“Tch… Arc damned slimy bastard made sure to let everyone know about my little memory loss problem, huh? Hey, I’ve come this far, at least talk to me a bit. You’re going to kill me, right? At least let me know what I did to you all!”

“...No,” replies Cecile, “there’s no need to te… To te… Hrrrg… YYYYYOU FLACCID BACK ALLEY WHORE, YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF NERVE SHOWING UP HERE!”

As she’s saying this, Cecile suddenly clutches her chest, and her horns begin to shift, opening the way to her eyes and accommodating themselves more orderly, on her forehead and to the side of her head, completely unlike the unkempt garden of horns she previously had. Her red eyes now visible, it seems her change was not only physical.

“You! How dare you forget about everything! How dare you just relinquish your sins as if you weren’t the one who ki-- No, shut up, Cecile, I’m letting her have it! This bitch will die regretting what she did, she doesn’t deserve a pleasant passing!” -- ‘Cecile’ convulses once anew, and her horns become an messy crown that covers her eyes again -- “You don’t get to decide that, Volg. On the off chance that she beats us, she’ll armed with more knowledge, and knowing is half the--” -- Cecile’s horns shift once again -- “BY THE ARC, yes yes, it’s half the damn fuckin’ battle, yes, you say that every time, would it KILL you to look up some new phrases or proverbs? You ok we beat her to an inch of her life, then I tell her, then we kill her, then?” -- Volg once again turns into Cecile -- “That’s acceptable, actually.”

“Well, you can tell my amnesia is particularly terrible, because there’s no way I would otherwise forget a freakshow like you,” snarks Summergale as she assumes her combat stance.

“My, how rude.” “Choke on dick and die!”

Cecile and Vogt reply in quick succession and the Lantern Boss Fight against Cecile/Vogt begins.

Cecile and Vogt are two personalities that are housed within the same body. Cecile is the more rational and calm of the two, while Vogt is rowdy and aggressive. Despite their fundamental differences, however, the two consciousnesses usually find a middle ground where they can agree to do something, for they come from the same psyche, after all. The Pact Lantern that they wield has the special power of allowing the wielder to do “intrinsic transactions”. That means they can trade aspects of themselves for other aspects, or to heighten something they already have. Cecile and Vogt, however, utilize the Lantern in a different manner: Cecile, a skilled and intelligent spellcaster, trades her physical faculties for heightened mental faculties. This manifests around her as a transparent green ‘command center’ that surrounds her (imagine keyboards, monitors, a little spinning radar, etc), with the Lantern standing tall behind her as the centerpiece. She floats around very slowly, but she is constantly bombarding the player with different spells. As she’s traded most of her physical faculties, she can only move her arms and hands, and does so to operate her ‘command center’, which is how she launches spells (it makes her own advanced spellcasting easier to comprehend to herself by associating some physical actions to it is the lore reasoning, and the design reasoning is that it looks cool). Cecile bombards the player with the Four Elements, in contrast to her otherwise technological look (intentional; she might be using the primordially technological Pact Lantern, but she is from a Southern Half nation, and an expert traditional spellcaster), all of which have a different tell before assailing Summergale. The Glaistan will shoot quick blue-Dyed Firebolts directly at Summergale, (you can melee these to absorb them; the tell is her mashing on her keyboard), splash around blobs of water that remain suspended in the air before sharpening into ice spikes that descend all at once (you can shoot attack these blobs in any manner to get rid of them, which is recommended as they are numerous and descend quickly and all at once, which might catch you off-guard as you’re dealing with other attacks; the tell is Cecile spinning a steam valve with her right hand), creating a Summergale-sized wave of earth that comes from behind you or, if used on one of the platforms in the arena, makes that platform unusable for a while (there’s nothing you can do about these other than dodge them; the tell is her yanking on a lever with her left hand), and creating delayed blasts of wind where you stand (keep moving, nothing to do about these; the tell is Cecile manually making the radar device on the command center spin faster with her hand). Cecile moves slowly across the air and doesn’t really do much to defend herself other than viciously launch attacks. Periodically, an Earth Carapace generates around her, which takes a couple of shots or melees to break, and if you hit her too many times, she’ll use a blast of wind to propel herself away, regenerating a set amount of Earth Carapace. At set intervals, however, Cecil will tag Volg in by yelling her name. When Volg is in control, she becomes a completely different boss. Volg’s usage of the Pact Lantern is to trade “perception” for “wrath” and “instinct”. In place of the ‘command center’, Volg wears a transparent red spiritual armor, and instead of using magic, she uses the Pact Lantern itself as a large polearm-club. She attacks in a variety of ways by swinging the traffic light around. Her main attacks are a warcry followed by a quick thrust with the Lantern, dragging the Lantern across the ground in an uppercut motion to launch damaging torture tools at you (Dyed red), and spinning the Lantern rapidly to deflect shots and advance towards you. Shooting at Volg is mostly useless, as she will block most bullet. All of her attacks, however, are dyed Blue, and clashing is how you mostly will defend against her. Trying to simply dodge her around is going to get you beaten to pulp, as most of her ferocious moves have follow ups with very strict timing to dodge, or frame trap you entirely if you don’t clash. Volg can also stomp hard on the ground to make torture tools near her bounce upwards, catching a cleaver between her teeth, and VERY quickly lunge at you with the Lantern, spitting the cleaver either mid-sprint or immediately after the attack. Unlike Cecile, Volg is an expert physical fighter, especially trained against ranged foes. Volg can also tag Cecile back in by yelling her name.

So, how do you even deal with this boss? Cecile is what I’d call “HP Phase” and Volg is what I’d call “Lantern Phase”. When Cecile’s out, you mostly have to dodge, Quickstep, and disable her attacks while putting damage into her. If her floating away is too annoying, use the Amethyst Shot (Chain shot) to pull yourself to surrounding platforms, to the ceiling, or, if you can, to hit her and pull her to you. Summergale’s melee attacks drain magic, remember? Chain her in and melee her to debilitate her magic powers while refilling your own Mana. Directly after meleeing Cecile, she’ll use her wind to pull herself away from you, but will fly noticeably slower, attack slower (and her magic is smaller), and generate Earth Carapace slower. Melee her a certain amount of times, and you’ll forcefully make the AI tag out. It’s important to note that Cecile will cancel out all of your Gem Shots except Amethyst Shot with her own magic, so you’ll rely mostly on normal attacks and Chain for this. While she’s Volg, shots are mostly useless, and instead of dodging, you’ll want to meet her attacks with clashes. Volg phases are mostly to deal Lantern Damage and fill Avalanche when mastered. Clashing any of her attacks builds Momentum, every third clash you land directly against the head of her traffic light Lantern will take one Lantern HP out of her total of 4. But watch out, Volg’s attacks reduce a lot of Momentum if they land! Taking out one Lantern HP from Volg stuns her momentarily, dissipating her “armor” and letting you hit her for increased damage (especially with a Ruby Shot, the explosive one). Do NOT use Amethyst Shot (Chain shot) on her, as she’ll catch the chain’s head and throw you across the screen with a special counterattack. The main advantage to use on Volg, as mana allows, is to use the expensive Topaz Shots (hitscan thunder shots that immediately travel the screen and deal good damage, but use a third of a full MP bar per pop). Volg can block bullets, but not thunder, which will electrify the metal Pact Lantern and hurt her. The optimal moment to use it, however, is when she’s preparing her Lunge attack! Once she has caught the cleaver between her teeth, get ready. The moment she starts running at you, hit her with the Topaz Shot. This will cause her to crash from the velocity and force of her sprint being broken and will send her cleaver flying, Dying it red (remember this). At this moment, you can attack her directly briefly, BUT, if you are a true Notches pro (and you are), you can wait until the cleaver is aligned with her. If you shoot the cleaver at the right moment, it will be sent hurtling towards Volg, hitting her for big damage and giving you a huge boost to Momentum. Once only 15% HP remains, whichever boss is currently active will get away from your and say something (Cecil: “That’s far enough… Volg, she cannot leave this gaol alive! Engage Blood Pact!/ Volg: “Damn you, damn you, damn you! Oi, Cecil! That’s enough shitting around! Blood Pact time!”). The active boss then sends the Pact Lantern into overdrive, changing their color to yellow and emitting a powerful aura. Cecil and Volg can now tag each other in and out extremely fast, mid-attack even, so it will become a test to everything you’ve dealt with so far. The way this works is that Volg will mostly be in command, leaping at you, and while she’s midair, she’ll tag to Cecile, who’ll let out a magic attack or infusion, and quickly tag back to Volg so she can finish the melee attack. It’s a strategy based on their perfect coordination, but you can use this against them! Remember how Cecile blocks Gem Shots and Volg blocks normal shots? Using two shots quickly followed by a Gem Shot will trick Volg into trying to block the Gem Shot as if it were a normal shot, getting hit. Likewise, using two Gem Shots followed by a normal shot with get Cecile mixed up and make her unable to block it. The advantage of the former is obvious, but why would you depend on the latter strategy? To hit the Lantern, of course, and deal Lantern Damage. Shots directly to the Lantern in this phase deal one Lantern HP. With so little HP remaining, it might be wise to do so! Keep up the mix-ups and finish them up in whatever way you wish. Grievous Attacks against Cecil are activated directly below her. Shot Grievous makes Summergale use her Chain Shot to pull her to herself, blasting her away with a point black explosion from the Ruby Shot, while Melee Grievous makes Summergale use her Chain Shot to pull herself up to Cecile, punching her square in the face and bringing her all the way to the ground with, disabling her flight, Ice Spikes, and Earth Carapace temporarily. Grievous Attacks against Volg (including the Blood Pact phase) are activated adjacent to Volg. Shot Grievous makes Summergale jump kick Volg in the chin, land behind her as she’s collapsing backwards, pressing the barrel of her rifle against her back, lifting her, and letting loose three consecutive Topaz Shots pointblank, while Melee Grievous makes Summergale give Volg a firm uppercut to the chin, followed by gripping her rifle by the barrel like a baseball bat, and smashing it against Volg’s kneecap, disabling her dash attacks and slowing her down temporarily.

After being defeated, Cecile lies midst the many torture tools. “And so, you claim another one of us, you greedy nobody… Haha…”

“...I couldn’t convince you to at least give me a hint, could I?” Summergale inquires as she looms over the dying Glaistan.

“You’re getting nothing out of m--EAT SHIT.” interrupts Volg with her usual glamour.

“Ah. The other one. Well, I don’t exactly have all the time in the world, so I have to get going.”

“Wait,” Volg hails, standing up with what little strength her broken body has left. “...I hate your guts, but I ain’t a pussy like Cecile. You fought us directly and you beat us. If nothing else, I can give you a hint -- Volg, stop right now, die with some dignity! -- I should say the same to you, Cecile. It’s over. We already played our part, we can just keel over and die, knowing those Urelian shitheads will get what’s coming to them.”

“...So you’re really targeting the Ureles Empire. Don’t you realize that this will only fan the flames of their wrath!? I hate those bastards as much as the next girl, but I also know how to not sign a death warrant for my country!” yells Summergale.

“And whose fault do you think that is!?” Volg chastises as she crumples once more, her wounds too great for her. “We had the perfect plan! We had the perfect way to exterminate all of those bastards in one fell swoop! And you ruined it all in one day, you smashed this carefully calculated clusterfuck of righteous retribution!”

“I… Did? How could I alone have done that?”

“Ask your partner over there,” Volg whispers as she points at the rifle. “The second notch holds the answer, you sick bastard.”

“The second notch?”

“Yeah… That rifle should have had two notches carved on the stock when you came by, no? Ever wondered about them?”

“Who did I kill?”

But Volg simply smiles. “See, Cecile? Someone that doesn’t know anything can’t feel any pain, but give them a little morsel… And… Suddenly… They realize just how badly… They are starving…”

With Volg’s sick smile, Cecile and Volg pass away, not before taking one last jab at Summergale: Giving her just enough information for her to realize just how little she knows. Summergale silently takes out her small knife and carves not one, but two new notches on the stock of the rifle.

As for their lore, to close up this post, Cecile used to be a single consciousness, but during the tests and development of the Pact Lantern, she grew very close to a rowdy scientist named Volg. The two became inseparable friends, if not more, who would often banter and take jabs at each other, but all in good fun. Cecile was a foreigner from the Glais Commonwealth, and while Phebea is known for its hospitality for foreigners, the ambiance in the castle was a little different. While not xenophobic, the royal guard is rather nationalistic, so Cecile, who was brought in by the King of Phebea as his Court Wizard, received a rather cold treatment. Volg, on the other hand, always treated her fairly and warmly, if not lacking at all in friendly vitriol. During research, however, a certain incident occurred in which an Ureles Empire spy found his way to the Laboratories one day, late at night. Volg, who was the only one still working there, saw him, and just as she rang the alarm, a poisoned dagger thrown by the spy pierced her neck. By the time help came, Cecile included, Volg was already dead. Consumed by her wrath, Cecile eviscerated the spy with her deadly magic, swore revenge, and volunteered for the Dim Lanterns project. The Pact Lantern’s special ability is to do “intrinsic transactions”, and so Cecile’s first transaction was to bring Volg to life. By sacrificing part of herself, Volg was revived! In her mind, at least. Rather, what Cecile did was give part of her identity away so it would become a facsimile of Volg who would live in her forever. It was the only solution she had, and ever since, Cecile and “Volg” have shared a body, a mind, and a reality submerged in denial. Cecile’s horns move way to reveal Volg’s eyes when Volg is the dominant personality because Volg’s eyes were Cecile’s favorite part of her, and the Pact Lantern’s power was so absolute due to Cecile’s conviction that she could revive her this way that her body changes to fit this ideal. In other words, it’s an unnatural metamorphosis brought by the Lantern. Change the inside enough, and changes reflect on the outside, after all.

Well, that’s that for this post! I hope you enjoyed it. The next post is more technical-minded, with stuff like controls, level design, and other such things. See you next time!

[lyonrhodes]

One Bad Day #9: Speakeasy

Red Hood x OC, Batman/DC Fan Fic

Summary: Dora has lived in Gotham her whole life and is accustomed to the rampant crime and corruption. Her life gets worse when Black Mask takes over the city. She thinks all hope is lost but a new vigilante appears, calling himself the Red Hood. However, he’s not your typical knight in shining armor. Dora must decide: does she dare fall in love with a revenge-driven killer? (Romance, Crime, Action)

Chapter 9: Speakeasy

Dora unlocked the back door. It swung open, but no one was there. The alley was empty; dark except for a lone humming and flickering lamp overhead. She gripped the crowbar in her hand tightly.

“Holly? I’m here,” Dora called out, taking a few steps outside. “Hello?”

The gravel crunched behind her. She wasn’t alone.

Without stopping to think, Dora turned around and swung the crowbar.

Red Hood caught it, inches from his head. The force of the catch reverberated through the iron back into Dora’s hand, causing her to hiss in pain and let go.

He gripped the crowbar tightly for a few seconds—she could hear the leather of his gloves strain. Although not able to see his face, Dora still sensed... was it anger? It radiated off him like heat from a furnace. She was about to apologize when he tossed the crowbar aside. “Kept me waiting long enough. I was about to leave,” he said, his stance relaxing. Whatever tension had been there dissipated. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Her heartbeat was rapid. She had broken into a sweat, but Dora wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “Yeah, dude. I thought you were another one of those thugs.” A look up and down the alley confirmed he was alone. No bodies. No blood. No thugs.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, get in here.” Dora pulled him inside. She was paranoid. The cops were likely staking out the Alibi, watching her like hawks. The last thing she needed was camera footage that would corroborate Bullock’s asinine theory. “What’s up? Why are you here?” She already had an inkling why.

“Checking in. Did the GCPD give you any trouble after I left?”

Frowning, Dora wondered how much to tell him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, except...” It wouldn’t do him any good to know about the detectives’ suspicions, so she just said, “We made a real mess that night, and the GCPD thought the best way to clean it up was to tear up the place.”

She led him out of the kitchen into the main barroom. Red Hood whistled, taking it all in. “Yeah, you’re not kidding.” He walked over to the corner with the jukebox. “Hey, at least they left this old thing.” He wiped some sawdust off the machine. “Oh, what’s this? That’s unusual...”

“What?”

He jabbed at some buttons, flipping through the CDs loaded inside. “Silverstein, Underoath, Saosin, Dead Poetic, Deftones... This isn’t the typical dive-bar playlist. You like hardcore metal?”

Dora was impressed that he even knew the proper name of the genre. “Oh, yeah. Nobody ever uses that thing, so my dad let me put my own CDs in there. For whenever we’d hang out after hours. He actually closed down the bar for my quinceañera.”

Red Hood scoffed. “You don’t seem like the party type of girl.”

“I’m not, but it wasn’t your typical party. We rounded up the local hardcore kids to jam, mosh, and headbang. And gorge ourselves on cake and pop. That’s how the scene is in Crime Alley.”

“Very cool of your dad. Not many parents condone that kind of music.”

“Yeah, my dad was a great guy.” Saying so prodded a dull ache in her chest. “I want to do the same for my little sisters when they turn fifteen. My dad would’ve wanted that.”

Red Hood took a look around. “So I take it you’re going to rebuild the place, then? That’s going to cost a shit load of money. How much was the insurance payout?”

I fucking knew it, he wants a cut. “Yeah, about that... Look, Red Hood, I... I don’t know how to say this, but... I’m sorry, I can’t...”

Red Hood put his hand on her shoulder; she immediately stopped stammering. “Yeah, I guessed money would be tight, so don’t sweat it. You know that coke your little sister almost got you killed over? I sold it.”

“Yeah, I know. A friend told me.” Dora knew the gesture was meant to be soothing, but she stiffened at his touch.

Red Hood had read her reluctance. “What else was I supposed to do with it?”

Throw it away, that’s what any sane law-abiding person would do. It then occurred to her that Red Hood didn’t abide the law. And it was hard to gage morality in a city like Gotham.

“It brought in some decent cash, so consider us even for a while,” he said. He withdrew his hand, but not without letting it run down arm to her elbow. “That should let you get back on your feet, right?”

Dora was extremely conscious of his touch. It felt like electricity was surging through their contact; her heart thumped loudly. “What, really? You’ll let us... Um... wow. How much was it all worth?”

“About $250,000, give or take.”

“What? Carla was running around Crime Alley with a quarter million dollars on her back? Her crew might as well have painted a target on her!”

Red Hood made a frustrated noise, something between a groan and a growl. “Yeah, I know. The LU likes using kids as runners. Black Mask’s crew is no different. That’s the kind of crap I’m trying to stop. People will always want drugs, but they should at least have enough decency to keep kids out of it.” He took a few deep breaths, collecting himself. The eye-slits in his mask seemed to glow brighter. “Crime isn’t a disease, Dora, you can’t cure it. You can’t abolish it. It’s human nature. But you can control it, keep it in check, and keep it safe. I want to put an end to the darkest parts of Gotham, so that people who want to ruin their own lives don’t ruin anyone else's.”

“How are you so sure that will even work?”

“Look at Las Vegas, Atlantic City, and New Orleans. Gambling is legal there. Heck, look at Prohibition a hundred years ago. You could argue that gambling and alcoholism can lead to addiction and financially ruin someone’s life, but those cities’ economies benefit from it. They turned it into an industry, and their citizens have jobs because of it. All over the world, some type of drugs and prostitution are legal and regulated, so it keeps even the workers and consumers in those industries safe.”

Dora had never thought of it that way. She began to ponder the implications when she noticed Red Hood removing his jacket. “What are you doing?”

“I’m assuming since you’re here by yourself in the middle of the night, you have work to do that can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ll give you a hand. So you get it done quicker. Is that alright?”

“No, it’s okay, but you don’t have to—um...” She would have argued, but Red Hood was undressing in front of her and she really didn’t want to stop him.

The leather motorcycle jacket had hidden a light flak jacket with a varied assortment of pockets and straps for guns, magazines, knives, and all kinds of other tactical military gear. It must have had some type of deceptively hidden armor plating in it because it made a heavy thump when he dropped it on the floor. His utility belt and thigh holsters came off next.

“Whoa,” was all Dora could say.

“Yeah, I know. My gear’s pretty bulky.” He twisted his waist and popped the kinks out of his back.

But that wasn’t what Dora had “whoa-ed” about. Holy crap, he’s fit as fuck…

Without the jacket and vest, Red Hood seemed to lose a hundred pounds (though his gear probably did weigh that much for all she knew). The armor had made him appear bulkier than he actually was. Without it, it revealed that he had a slim lean build, and the clever stitching of his skin-tight black shirt accentuated his three-dimensional torso. The contours of his sculpted shoulders, chest, and stomach were not hidden by the fabric.

“So where do I start?” he asked, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles.

It was suddenly unbearably hot in the room. “I was, um... tiling the floors. The stuff is there. I’ll show you how to do it in a sec, but would you, um, excuse me?” Before he could reply, Dora hurried into the bathroom. She went to the sink and splashed her face with water, willing herself not to think the things she was thinking. He’s a criminal, don’t forget that. You’ve got work to do, so focus. She flushed a toilet for appearances.

When she came back out, Dora noticed that Red Hood had removed his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. This was the first time she had ever seen his bare skin... and it was relatively fair, lighter than her own dark olive skin. He had large hands and muscular forearms. They were clean, but he had callouses all over his palms and knuckles—some were red, suggesting that he had given someone a pounding recently.

Dora set to work, showing Red Hood how she wanted the tiles done while trying to look at him as little as possible. She instructed him to take the pool and darts area, just so she wouldn’t feel the electricity buzzing on her skin when he was nearby.

The task flew by quickly, aided by Red Hood turning on the jukebox. He hammered, plastered, cut, and drilled to the rhythm, something Dora thought was cool. He knew the lyrics to some of the songs she liked, too. Fortunately, it wasn’t endearing because he was a poor singer. Not to mention the fact that a man in a red helmet/mask laying down floor tiles looked kind of ridiculous, no matter how fit he was.

悪

Dora hammered in the last strip of molding and tossed the mallet aside. Rolling onto her back, she shouted, “Finally!” She pushed off her fogged up glasses and wiped the sweat from her face. “Hey, you done?” she called out to Red Hood, wherever he was.

“Yeah, all done. Need a hand?” He was closer than Dora had thought. When she wiped her glasses clean and put them back on, he was standing above her, offering her his hand.

“Sure.” She took it, and he pulled her up so quickly she got dizzy. She held onto his arm to prevent herself stumbling. When the world stopped spinning, she realized she was only inches away from him, her eyes level with his chest. She looked up. He’s so tall; he’s got over a foot on me, she marveled, remembering Holly telling her how Red Hood picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

Red Hood grabbed her other hand to steady her, but she winced, pulling it back.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked.

Dora looked down at her hand, the skin still red and raw from the Molotov cocktail she had improvised the last time he was here. She took a big step back. “Hey, listen…” She went around tidying up tools and trash to hide her reddening face. “Thanks for helping me out. I owe you. For the trouble.”

“How about a drink and we call it even?” he offered, putting his gear back on. Unbuckled, it hung loosely on his lean frame.

A drink? If he wants a drink, he has to...  “Yeah, sure.”

As she led Red Hood into the kitchen, he took the tool bag away from her so she wouldn’t have to lug it there. For a moment, she questioned if it was chauvinist or chivalrous, but decided on the latter. At the refrigerator, she pulled out a water bottle and tossed it to him. Feeling anxious as she took a sip from her own bottle, she couldn’t help but stare at him. He had to take off his helmet to drink something, but after everything Montoya said… Was it really a good idea to see his face?

“Thanks,” he said—but he placed the bottle on the counter. “I was actually thinking about something stronger. Maybe when the Alibi is up and running again, I can open a tab.”

“Oh, you meant… Right, yeah. No, don’t worry about a tab.” Dora scoffed, feigning nonchalance to hide her disappointment. “After all you’ve done for me and this place, all your drinks are on the house, for life. It’s the least I can do.”

“Cool. See you around, then. I guess I don’t have to tell you to keep out of trouble. Take care, Dora.”

Nervously tapping the counter, she watched Red Hood walk toward the door, wondering when she would see him again.

“Oh. Before I forget.” Red Hood stopped at the door, drawing a gun. Dora’s heart skipped a beat, but he deftly twirled it so the muzzle was in his palm. “Here.” He held it out for her.

It was her father’s Colt. She took it, gripping it tightly in one hand while running her fingers along the smooth metal with the other. She didn’t have to release the magazine—she could tell it was loaded by its weight. What would Dad think of everything that’s been happening? His little girl had killed a man; she had become friends with a vigilante in a red helmet that cut off people’s heads like a serial killer and blew up buildings like a terrorist. Did she really want to know what was behind his mask?

Then she thought, Fuck it, why not. The cops are already convinced I know what he looks like. It can’t hurt to peek. “Hey, do you like whiskey?” she blurted out, before her conscience could kick in.

Red Hood paused with his hand on the back-door’s handle. “Yeah, actually. Love the stuff.”

“My dad loved it, too. He’s got a few good vintages.”

“Really?”

“Do you have to be anywhere right now? How about a nightcap?” Her face was red. She couldn’t believe she had just said that. She hoped he didn’t notice.

Red Hood turned around and stood there for a moment. The shape of his helmet’s glowing eye slits made it look like his brow was furrowed. For a second, he looked like he had in the alley a few hours earlier. Dora could imagine what criminals felt when he stared them down. Afraid, vulnerable, and very small.

“Sure, that sounds good,” he finally said; the sudden nonchalance in his voice didn’t match the serious expression frozen on his mask.

Dora nodded awkwardly. “Follow me, then.” She holstered her father’s gun into her waistband as she went over to the pantry. Flipping a switch inside the room revealed boxes of liquor stacked on shelves as high as the ceiling. She had always thought the room was quite large, but with a six-foot man inside with her, it suddenly felt cramped.

“So this is where you stash all the good stuff?”

“Not quite.” Dora went to the back of the room and shoved aside a large crate of vodka that had been blocking a door. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but being the same color as the walls, the door was difficult to notice under the dim lighting and all the clutter. She picked a key from of her ring and unlocked it.

“It’s pretty obvious, but this is a really old building,” she said, walking down a flight of concrete stairs. “It’s been in my family for generations. Hard to believe now, but my father’s side of the family was actually really well off at the start of the 1900s. After my great-grandparents hopped off the boat from England, they fell in with the Italian and the Irish mobs during Prohibition. They started a few speakeasies and made a killing. My family has lived in this building for generations, but my grandfather didn’t buy it off the original owners until the fifties or sixties or something. When the Cold War started to get real bad, my grandpa made the building earthquake-proof and converted the old basement speakeasy into a bunker.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Red Hood said, running his hand along the concrete wall as they descended, as if he could feel the history in the bricks.

“Yeah, it helped us survive the quake that hit Gotham a few years ago, but my dad said the renovation nearly bankrupted the family before it even hit. Seems like it’s the family curse. Each generation gets us poorer and poorer.” Dora reached another door at the bottom of the stairs, made of iron with a hatch wheel.

“What do you mean?”

Dora turned the wheel with a heave. The rusted metal screeched and groaned. “Ten years ago, my dad spent a ton of money he didn’t have renovating the bar, and when he did that, he also converted the bunker into a cellar for high-shelf liquor and wine. And then I go and do it again now, trying to rebuild this place and keep it afloat with half a dozen loans I might never be able to pay off. My mother warned me, but I wouldn’t listen.” The wheel stopped with a clank. Dora pulled the door open. “At least I didn’t use a loan shark like my dad. ... Although, sometimes I wish I did. Banks can be crooks too.”

“Who else knows about this place?” Red Hood followed her inside the dark room.

“It’s not really a secret, but I guess… only my family, the other bartender Rochelle, and my friend Holly.” Dora fumbled around the wall until she found a lever. She pushed it up and the room lit up in a chorus of hums and snaps.

“This doesn’t look like a liquor cellar,” Red Hood observed. The basement was a wide open space with concrete walls and floors, dimly lit by hanging incandescent light bulbs. Boxes and shelves of liquor dominated one wall, but the opposite side of the room had a sofa, coffee table, a desk, TV, stereo, and a small bed. There was even a microwave oven and a hot plate next to a sink and mini-fridge, making a little kitchenette. “Looks like someone’s dingy apartment. Better than what most people get in this town.”

Dora smirked at the irony. “Yeah, it was my dad’s.” She went over to the sink and rinsed off a few glasses. “When my mom dumped him, he started living here. He had no other place to go. It was during the crisis after the earthquake. No Man’s Land.”

“But your family owns a dozen apartments upstairs...” Red Hood put down his gear again and reclined on the sofa. The way he sank into the cushions made it clear he was as tired as she was.

“In the divorce, my mom and dad split the building in half. She got the apartments, he got the bar. She didn’t want anything to do with my dad, and that included leasing him a place to stay.”

“Wow, your mom’s kind of...”

“A bitch?” Dora chuckled. “Yeah, she can be. She eventually eased up and let him move upstairs, but she made him stew down here for well over a year after the quake.” She shook the two glasses dry and placed them on the coffee table. “Sorry, no ice,” she said, checking the mini-fridge.

“That’s okay, I like my whiskey neat.”

Dora went to the crates of liquor and perused the dusty labels. She pulled out a bottle. “So what would you like? Glenkinchie? Lagavulin?”

“You’ve got Lagavulin? A shot of that would be awesome.”

She blew the dust off the bottle as she walked over to the sofa. Red Hood took the bottle from her as she sat down. “Wow, this scotch is older than I am...” He brought the label close to his mask... and his eyes glowed blue for a second. “It’s legit.”

Dora ignored that Red Hood had some type of high-tech scanning equipment in his helmet, concentrating instead on the fact that he must be in his twenties—because she already knew that the bottle of whiskey was thirty years old. But she wanted a more exact number. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking... how old are you?”

He put the bottle down. “Not much older than you, actually.”

So twenty-two-ish? Dora thought.

Red Hood touched something on the back of his helmet. Dora heard a click and the light glowing from the mask’s eyes shut off.

She held her breath. The moment had finally come.

There was a pneumatic hiss as panels spread apart at the helmet’s chin, sides, and back. Red Hood took it off and Dora finally saw his face.

Most of it.

To her disappointment, underneath the helmet, Red Hood had another mask. A small red one that only covered his eyes, like the ones she had seen on Nightwing, Robin, and many other vigilantes and villains on the news. She had always wondered what was the point of such a small mask, but even though she was sitting right next to him, she couldn’t see the full shape of his nose, his eyebrows, nor the color of his eyes; the mask had a mold and glowing white lenses that concealed them. It covered no more than what a large pair of sunglasses would, but it was enough to make her uncertain whether he was Caucasian, Hispanic, Arabic, Asian... or even a mix of any race.

However, she could clearly see Red Hood had a fair complexion with shaggy coal-black hair. He had some stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the jaw underneath was well-defined. He kinda looks like Nightwing... but younger. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than she was. He might even be younger for all she knew.

Pero que guapo, she couldn’t help but think. On top of being a badass vigilante and fit as hell, he was also pretty damn cute. For fuck’s sake, why are some people so damn lucky? Dora’s genetic lottery bid had awarded her a short stature, large hips, flat feet, and astigmatism.

Red Hood noticed her staring and cracked a charming smile. “Yeah, this thing,” he said, touching his domino mask. “You can never be too careful.”

“I agree.”

It was Red Hood’s turn to feel awkward, so he broke eye contact to pour the whiskey. He gave Dora her tumbler and took a moment to smell his drink. “You know, such good scotch deserves a toast.”

Dora finally stopped staring at him and looked down at the swirling golden liquid in her own cup. “Yeah, but to what?”

“How about... to Monty.” He raised his glass. “Despite his flaws, he was a good man.”

That struck Dora’s heartstrings, resonating with all the bittersweet memories she had of her father over the years. “Yeah. To Monty.” The sum total was more sweet than bitter, she told herself. They clinked cups and swallowed their drinks. “Wow, that’s really smooth,” she marveled, looking at the dregs in amazement. It didn’t burn much going down and it tasted good.

“Yeah, that’s damn good scotch,” Red Hood said, having the same reaction. “I guess that’s why this stuff is expensive. You didn’t have to waste some on me.”

“No, it’s okay.” Dora grabbed the bottle and poured another round. “It’s been sitting down here for years, that’s the real waste. One of my dad’s mistakes, buying vintage high-shelf stuff. Our customers aren’t exactly the type to care enough about what they’re drinking to shell out the big bucks. As good as it is, we can’t sell this stuff.”

“Why didn’t he just sell it back to his liquor vendor?”

Dora scoffed bitterly. “My dad didn’t get all this booze above board. He got it all from the Odessa Mob, who smuggled it from overseas… and they don’t do refunds. Occasionally, the mob’s enforcers would ask for the primo stuff—for free of course—but they all died in the gang war.”

“Wow, your dad was… an interesting man.” Red Hood sipped slowly at the whiskey this time, pausing to savor the taste.

“Hey, um...” Dora pulled her feet up on the couch. “What did you mean earlier by my dad’s flaws?”

“Oh. You know. His, uh... drinking problem.”

Dora’s brow tightened. “How do you know about his drinking problem?”

Red Hood hesitated. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could tell he was trying to avoid looking at her. “No offense, Dora, but people talk. Everyone in Crime Alley knew about your dad was an alcoholic.”

She knew that, but it surprised her that Red Hood did. “But he was sober for years, up until he died. How’d you know about that?”

“You assume I’m new to town, but I grew up here.”

“In Gotham? I guessed as much, so give me some credit.”

“Yeah, but I mean I was born and raised here, in Crime Alley. On Park Row. Same as you. Why do you think I’m sticking my neck out for this place? It’s my home too, Dora. It’s in my blood as much as it’s in yours.”

Impressed, Dora toasted to that. As the shot went down her throat, it occurred to her that if they were near the same age, she likely went to school with Red Hood, whoever he was. She sifted through her memories, trying to remember a classmate or boy from the block that could have turned out to become the most violent vigilante Gotham has ever seen… but almost every boy that lived on Park Row ended up a convict, a deadbeat, or… dead.

But she refocused on something he said earlier. “So, wait, you knew my father?”

“No, I knew about Monty. Met him a few times while I was a kid. But I never knew him personally. You know how word travels up and down this neighborhood. I don’t know the fact from fiction, though. Tell me about him.”

“You really want to listen to me talk about my dad?”

Red Hood poured himself another shot and reclined back on the sofa. “Word of mouth had Monty as a sleazy guy, a drunk and a deadbeat dad. But I can clearly tell you loved him very much, so I want to know what you thought of him.”

“Um... sure.” Dora took a sip of her drink for courage. Then she told Red Hood about her father, Philip Montgomery.

He wasn’t always a drunk. What made him crawl into the bottle was the pressure he was facing from Vasily Kosov and the Odessa Mob to pay back the debt he owed to them for rebuilding the Alibi, on top of the extortion money. It was a slow and steady decline, but the alcoholism eventually got so bad, he got into an accident while driving drunk—with Carla and Mercy in the backseat. Both Dora’s sisters were hurt in the accident, especially Mercy, who’s Asperger’s made the incident all the more traumatizing. Disgusted and fed up, their mother didn’t bother to post Monty’s bail, or hire him a lawyer. Instead, she let him stew in jail while she filed for divorce and took full custody of their three daughters.

At first, Dora was just as angry at him as her mother was, but she finally understood his remorse when he attempted to kill himself by jumping off the top of the Montgomery building. He would have succeeded if not for the dumpster he landed in. “I’ve had too many friends eat a bullet to go out the same way,” Dora remembered him saying when she found him.

Her mother still had no sympathy, so Dora took it upon herself to help her father recover. She took him to therapy, Alcoholics Anonymous, made sure he abided his parole—even stayed in Gotham after the earthquake to help him protect and rebuild the building. Over the years, her parents began to reconcile their differences, enough to co-parent and even date a while, but not quite enough to remarry. Carla and Mercy were beginning to trust him again... to love him again.

Then Black Mask and his men killed him.

Dora tossed back one last shot and put her cup down. “I... watched Black Mask kill my father. I couldn’t do anything, Sergei was holding me back, while his boys just stood there. They just fucking stood there and watched a good man get beaten to a pulp, passing around a bottle of vodka, egging on Black Mask like they were watching a boxing match.” She willed her tears to stay inside and looked at Red Hood. “They left him barely alive and he died before the ambulance arrived. I tried everything I had learned in school, but I couldn’t save him. He needed me and I let him down…”

Red Hood scooted closer to her. “I don’t know what you’re feeling so guilty about, Dora. You tried and that’s what matters. What more could you have done?”

Dora pushed him away, angry. He didn’t understand. “But I could have done something—should have done something. Sergei and his boys all had their hands in wetwork. They fucking bragged about it at my bar, right in front of me, all the fucking time... Escaping run-ins with Batman, and getting released from Blackgate on early parole because of fucking overcrowding. Can you believe it?” Dora pulled out her father’s gun and gripped it tight, the anger inside her boiling. “My father’s killers drank at my bar, for months. Dad’s gun was right there under the counter, for months. I could’ve avenged him myself, I had a thousand chances... but I never did. I was too much of a coward. I... just couldn’t... I... Argh!”

She jumped up suddenly and fired the gun. Again and again, at the liquor on the shelves—bottles exploded until the magazine was empty. “Fuck!” she screamed and kicked the coffee table. “Fucking fuck!”

Red Hood didn’t so much as flinch. He only stood up and pried the gun out of her hand. “Calm down.”

“Get the fuck off me!” she shouted, pushing him away.

“Hey! Chill!” Red Hood grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip too strong for her to escape. “I saw you fight back that night we met in the alley. And last week, in the bar, you protected your loved ones. You saved them. I didn’t. You did. You did what you had to do and you didn’t hesitate. Months ago, you saved dozens of lives in the gang war. People still talk about it.” He took her hand, being careful of the burn. “I’m looking at you right now, Dora, and I can see the fight in you—the defiance. You don’t need a mask to be a hero. You just need to care about other people and be willing to get off your ass to do it. From what I’ve seen and heard, you risk your own safety for the sake of others all the time. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re braver than you think. Your father would be proud of you.”

Dora’s heart was racing, and her insides were burning so hot she wanted to scream again. Red Hood’s eyes were hidden behind a mask, but he was looking straight at her, into her—so she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Not after what he just said.

So she kissed him.

She grabbed the back of his neck, but whether she pulled him down or herself up, she didn’t know because his lips were on hers and nothing else mattered—it felt good, it felt right.

It was only when she pulled away for a breath that she realized he wasn’t kissing her back. His mouth was closed, his nostrils were flared, and his masked eyes were impossible to read. Her heart sank. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.” She looked down at the half-empty bottle on the coffee table. “I... I’m drunk, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

This time Dora was on the receiving end of an unexpected kiss, one that took her breath away and made her knees weak. Luckily, she didn’t need to stand because Red Hood grabbed her behind the hips and lifted her up. Suddenly, she was weightless, only tethered to reality by his lips. She locked her ankles behind him so she wouldn’t float away.

And then she was falling. Her back hit something soft and she felt Red Hood’s weight land on top of her. She was laying on her back, whether if it was on the sofa, the bed, or the floor, she didn't know and didn’t care.

Their lips mashed together, exchanging breath; their bodies rubbed together, exchanging heat and pleasure. Dora dug her nails into Red Hood’s back and clawed off his shirt. When she brought her lips to his skin again, she felt the rough texture of his chest hair and the firmness of his muscles. She latched onto the crook of his neck and sucked and bit.

But Red Hood wouldn’t allow it. He grabbed her jaw and pulled it away, her mouth detaching with a gasp, one that turned into a moan when he put his own lips on her neck—right underneath her ear. Dora’s body went limp, and the next thing she knew her t-shirt and bra were suddenly gone. Red Hood pinned her arms above her head with one hand, while the other was on her breast. They kissed again, and Dora felt like he was sucking the breath right out of her.

When he dragged his mouth to her collarbone, some sense returned to her. “Stop,” she said. Red Hood didn’t listen, his mouth inched closer to her breast, his lips and breath hot on her skin. “Ooooh... Wait, stop... Stop, please... Hey! Stop!”

She hit him on the shoulder a few times, and when he wouldn’t let off, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back. “I said stop!”

Red Hood finally listened. He pulled away and sat back, breathless. He seemed surprised with himself. “Sorry. I... You’re hard to resist.”

Although she was frightened at first, Dora could tell he was telling the truth. She felt his erection poking her through only a few layers of fabric. He was hard to resist too—she wouldn’t be lying bare-breasted in front of him if he wasn’t. She had to slow down and think, but it was difficult to do with her brain soaked in alcohol and Red Hood sitting topless in front of her.

He slouched and fidgeted with his coal black hair, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, I know. I’m pretty fucked up.”

Fucked up? Dora got up on her elbows and wiped the fog from her glasses to get a proper look at him. His impeccably toned stomach muscles flexed loose and taut rapidly, still breathing heavily. The fair skin on his chest had a light smattering of hair, but it was blemished by bumpy red scars that marred his whole torso. Having treated those types of wounds in the gang war, Dora recognized multiple bullet wounds, stab wounds, cuts, abrasions, and a burn that extended from his shoulder to the center of his chest. He was even missing a nipple.

His body was a battlefield.

But her own body didn’t care how broken he was. She wanted to do exactly what Bullock and Montoya wanted to arrest her for—and she was finding it difficult to care. You’re about to fuck a killer, she reminded herself.

But I’m a killer too, another side of herself said. The cops never have to know. Who I sleep with is none of their business. It can’t be too hard to keep this a secret.

“What’s wrong?” Red Hood asked.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“... Us. What are we doing?”

“I was hoping we were about to have sex.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, so that she was straddling his lap—and his erection.

“I know...” She shuddered, feeling his manhood poking her. “... but we’re both drunk. We have to slow down.”

“Why? You started this.”

“What?”

“You kissed me,” Red Hood said with a sly smile. “You served me the drink.”

“Yeah, but... Look, we barely know each other. I don’t know your real name. I don’t even know what you really look like.”

“What? Is this still too much?” He tapped his red domino mask.

“Yeah, I won’t have sex with you with that thing on. I may be a Park Row girl, but I draw the line at sleeping with a guy whose name and face I don’t even know.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything for several moments. He just looked at her through the white lenses of his mask. Dora’s breathing fell in time with his. Finally, he said, “Can I trust you?”

She was almost offended. “I’m not a criminal like half the people in this borough, but I’m not a snitch either. Can I trust you? I know you’re just trying to do the right thing, but... you blow up buildings and kill people. They call you a terrorist on the news.”

In response, Red Hood slid her glasses up, her bangs too, exposing her full face. He ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “You’re a beautiful person, Dora. Inside and out. I’m out there, every night, fighting the worst Gotham has to offer, so sometimes it’s hard to remember that people like you still exist here. You have to know that I’d never hurt you. You remind me of what I’m fighting for.”

That satisfied her, so she kissed him again. As she caressed his lips with hers, she thought, If I get this mask off, I don’t care what he looks like, we’ll do it. I just want to see his eyes. Let’s make love like normal people, not fuck like strangers.

Pulling away, she found her hands on Red Hood’s face. She was touching his mask, and her fingers were already peeling it off. He wasn’t stopping her.

A gasp broke through the silence, but it didn’t come from Dora or Red Hood. They both looked at the door.

Holly stood there, eyes wide, hand over her mouth. “Holy. Shit.”

[v0.3.15.1]

[naruto-oc-critiques]

be nice 2 me nerds <3

she’d still kinda incomplete, so yeh - Syn

— General —

Name: Mao Fujioka

Meaning: Genuine thread; Wisteria hill

Gender: Female

Birthday: July 6th

Age: Part I: 24-25 Part II: 27-28 

[I didn’t know Mao was a Leo. Run for the damn hills.]

— Characteristics —

Blood type: O

Height: : Part I: 5’5” Part II:  5’5”

Weight: : Part I:133 lbs.  Part II:  136 lbs.

Eyes: She has upturned eyes; almond shaped with a lift up at the outer corners. They’re the same color as burnished copper.

Hair: Layered, slightly curly hair that reaches mid-shoulder blades; she keeps it in a low, semi-messy bun with a senbon stuck through it and has some curled fringe (almost like Spanner from KHR, except looser). Dark brown in color; about the color of dark chocolate, if not just a bit darker.

Skin: Peachy skin tone with smatterings of freckles along her arms and legs.

[Realistic height and weight CHECK. Cute eyes ;) Curly hair in Narutoverse? Me likey. Also senbon is cute because ayyyy Genma is the love interest so it’s foreshadowing. :D]

 — Appearance —

Child: Shorter hair left loose, and was one of the kids that kept more of their baby fat longer so she had chubby cheeks. Simple outfit of shorts, and a t-shirt or long-sleeved top (much to her mother’s chagrin) in simple colors with the typical ninja sandals.

[What a cute kid. I can imagine Mao getting ticked off and pointing stubby baby fingers at people while she pouts with them chubby cheeks.]

Academy: Longer hair in a ponytail, curly fringe. Typically wore a grey hooded vest over a plain black long-sleeved shirt and black shorts with once again black ninja sandals. She wasn’t one to bother with colors or girly things and preferred to keep it simple.

[So much black. Too much black. You do know that blue cloth is all the rage in Konoha right? Even for emo chicken butt head Sasuke? Add one dash of color, even if it’s a small accessory. ples.]

Genin: Began putting her hair into a loose looking bun and wearing wedged ninja sandals; black. Wore a sleeveless wire mesh shirt under a long-sleeved wide-necked forest green shirt, short black fingerless gloves with metal back plates, and black tapered pants with cargo-like pockets. She wears her headband around her left bicep. Mao also began to gain a lankier form at this point.

[I don’t think a genin at the age of 10 should be wearing wedged ninja sandals. At least, if you mean wedge like a wedged heel… Also CARGO PANTS YES LOVE. POCKETS.]

Chuunin: Lost some of her lankiness for a more pear-shaped body, wedged ninja sandals traded in for some wedged boots; black with grey buckles. She still wears the plated fingerless gloves and now has the leaf symbol etched into both, so she doesn’t bother with her headband.  She keeps to the plain colors with a to the body slate-grey and quarter-sleeved mesh-lined shirt, black cargo-esque pants that tuck into her boots, and her flak jacket.

[Oooh, boots. Love. Also, I wouldn’t consider the plated gloves to be her form of identification. She should still need her headband.]

Jonin: The only real change to her outfit is that her cargo-esque pants now have red stitching. This is her answer to Anko’s needling that she “needs more color in her life”.

[Love me some Anko friendship.]

— Ninja information —

Current rank: Tokubetsu jounin [WHAT IS THE SPECIALTY, SYN. HEY.]

-Genin promotion: 10

-Chuunin promotion: 12

-Special jounin promotion: 16

-Jounin promotion: 23

Team: Team Shun (affectionately Team Idiots); Shun Sarutobi, Izumo Kamizuki, Kotetsu Hagane. [YES I LOVE ME SOME IZUMO AND KOTETSU YAS.]

Kekkei Genkai: none

Chakra nature: Earth, Water

Ninjustsu range: midrange

Defensive/Offensive type: A little of both, but more so offensive.

Dominant hand: left

Weapons: senbon and ninja wire are her favorites [wink at Genma because senbon.]

— Summonings —

Species: Tanuki

Where the summoning contract comes from: Matsuyama Forest

Name: Shoukichi

Abilities: Tanuki make near zero sound when walking, as such they are fantastic at stealing things or causing general mischief. Tanuki also have the ability to henge into people or even inanimate objects. Shoukichi is especially bad about stealing things – food is his favorite target.

Mao gains this “light-footedness” as a Tanuki contractor.

Appearance: Shoukichi is a little larger than the average sized raccoon is, and has the signature tanuki fur pattern that leaves him with darkened eyes. His fur is colored with black, varying shades of grey, and white. When he’s contemplating something (often what to steal) his head tilts to the side and the tip of his tongue pokes out.

[Obviously I like the idea of a Tanuki since we talked about it in private and I’m pretty sure I helped you come to the conclusion that Tanuki’s are great as a summons? Gaining a trait from the summons is also cute. But can Shoukichi TALK???? The real question.]

— Abilities —

Strength: Chakra control, traps

Weakness: Hand-to-hand combat. [

Taijutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Ninjutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Chakra nature: Earth, Water

Earth Release Jutsu:

Coil of Earth

Headhunter

Mudshot

Mudslide

Water Release:

Kirigakure no Jutsu [protip; just call it hidden mist jutsu. You went for english names for everything except this. Continuity. Also a tiny bit odd that a Konoha shinobi uses this technique as it is a specialty of Kiri ninja. If you really want to use it, I’d suggest having some backstory and have Mao horribly beaten by a Kiri nin who used this jutsu, therefore giving her the determination to learn it herself. Some drawback should be established.]

Water Bullet

Water Prison

Water Dragon Bullet

Also knows Wind Release: Gale Palm [please tell me she incorporates senbon into this. ;)]

Genjutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Fighting style: Mao’s fighting style is fluid, focusing on dodging and defending more than attacking and preferably done in mid to long range rather than up close. She focuses mostly on ninjutsu, minor seals, and chakra string assisted weaponry. [Chakra strings? Who taught her that?]

— Personal traits —

Personality:

Mao is a subtle antagonist, as she likes to encourage all of the crazy and wild ideas that Anko comes up with, though Mao does on occasion actively participate in mischief. She is witty and often comes off as blasé, which sometimes causes problems to arise when she meets new people. And while she may seem blasé about things, Mao is fiercely protective of all of her friends and family and is quite kindhearted – though she tends to get embarrassed when caught out on said kindhearted, soft moments. [I knew she would be like this. Damn leo’s. Me likey though.]

Once she sets her mind on something it becomes her passion, which sometimes leaves her seeming as if she has a one-track mind. She finds humor the best medicine and cover to all of her more tumultuous emotions, and as humor is part of her default character it can take someone who knows her to tell when she’s just deflecting. [Yes! Character development!]

Likes: All types of food – she loves food more than anything, tending her small her garden, naps in the sun [She must love Akimichi food ;)]

-what she likes to do in her free time: Mao either fiddles around with her chakra strings or takes naps in odd but sunny places. She also likes to read novels.

Dislikes: The period of cooking where you can smell the food come together but can’t eat yet because it’s not done, when Anko or one of the boys cajole her into serious taijutsu practice, missions in rainy humid places because it turns her hair into a monster.

Habbits: When thinking hard about something she goes through the hand signs for the alphabet of standard sign language. When concentrating on a task (a puzzle, something to do with writing or reading) her tongue will poke out of her mouth a little bit. 

Fears: Losing everyone, and to a lesser extent being alone – it makes her progressively anxious.

Ambition: To see her kids (genin) grow up and to have a family of her own one day.

— Relationships —

Parents: Yuri Fujioka and Asada Fujioka

Sibling(s): None

Relative(s): Spinster aunt Junko Fujioka [I hope Junko is truly living up to the spinster title.]

Teammates/Ex-teammates: Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane

Friends: Kurenai Yuhi, Izumo and Kotetsu

Best friend(s): Anko Mitarashi, Ashi Inuzuka and Michi

Crush: Genma Shiranui, eventually (it’s a slow thing that happens over time) [SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX]

Rival: She doesn’t really have it in her to have one, not seriously. Anko might be the closest thing.

— Background & history —

Childhood:

Mao was mostly quiet and to herself; she didn’t go out of her way to speak to people so she often drifted around among groups in the Academy. It was a melancholic truth that she didn’t really have very many friends, and she claimed what she had was enough. Though what she had was a bunch of acquaintances and her childhood friend Ashi Inuzuka and his partner Michi, who were three years ahead of her.

But it was in the academy that Mao befriended Anko – or, rather, Anko injected herself into Mao’s life. When it happened the majority of their classmates were confused at the pairing, often asking how it happened. Mao’s answer?

“Skewers, dirt, and a declaration of undying love.”

How much of that was sarcasm Mao’s classmates didn’t know. (Mao would laugh about their confusion, because all she did was offer Anko a stick of dango after the plum haired girl’s got knocked into the dirt. And after she’d had knocked the person that had wronged her into the dirt.) And it was from this point on that Mao became the so-called “devil on Anko’s shoulder”, as she often enabled the plum haired girl’s wild schemes. [Evil little Leo child.]

Genin days:

The beginning of her genin days were rough, as her team didn’t mesh too well in the beginning. Kotetsu and Izumo often ended up leaving her out without meaning to, which caused a lot of tension. Eventually their sensei, Shun Sarutobi, kicked them to the wilds and made them talk. After that they became a fairly capable team that still had some bumps to smooth over. Izumo was often forced to be team mom as well, as Kotetsu and Mao fed off of each other and caused more problems than not, or just got too off-track. They graduated a few months after the Kannabi Bridge incident, so things were still somewhat stressful.

It was on their first C-Rank that Mao’s unsure outlook on her life went through a change. A few things went wrong and they all ended up hurt in one way or another, thanks to rogue shinobi and bandits still feeling empowered thanks to the previously ended war, and their sensei too was hurt as he did his best to protect them. He himself lost an eye in the conflict. It was a wake-up call and Mao, who had previously been unsure of what she was doing since being a shinobi was just something expected of her, started putting in more effort and time than she ever had to getting stronger. Because if there was one thing she knew, it was that she wanted to protect her friends. [I LOVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTTTTTTTTTTTTTT YES.]

Chuunin days:

Mao participated in the chuunin exams the same time Anko did, and the two actually ended up fighting in the final round. Anko came out the ultimate victor in their match, but both were promoted in the end along with Izumo and Kotetsu. Apparently a great showing of teamwork during the second phase of their exams, involving transporting an “important document” to Tanzaku Gai without losing it to the “enemies” provided by the chuunin and genin corps helped push forward the promotion of their entire team.

It was after their promotions that, somehow, all members of Team Shun slowly started drifting towards the Intelligence Division. They began running intelligence gathering missions under the guidance of the brand new tokubetsu jounin, Aoba. When not on missions or training together, Team Shun worked on finding their own niche within Intelligence, with Mao initially drifting over to Cryptology a few days a week. It was due to her interest in sealing that initially had her go that way, but after a short period she eventually just drifted back to being a general member of the Intelligence Division. [Sounds plausible. Cute idea for Chuunin exam btw. ;)]

The Kyuubi incident happened about a year after the quartet’s promotions, and Mao didn’t have much of a part in everything besides helping civilians to the shelters and away from the trouble after her initial shock.

The first breakdown Mao had after the initial scare of the mission gone wrong was when Orochimaru defected from Konoha and Anko went missing along with him. Mao nearly had a come apart, with Kotetsu and Izumo having to stop her from barging into the Hokage’s office, emotions blazing. They calmed her down enough that she wouldn’t just burst in anger and Mao practically demanded to be part of a search team, declaring that she knew Anko best.

The Cell she was part of weren’t the ones that found Anko, but they did run into the team that did. Mao stayed by the semi-unconscious and in pain girl the whole way back to Konoha, and once they got back as well. It was after this incident that Anko joined the former Team Shun in the Intelligence Division, quietly at first and then with a bang, much to the chagrin of many. Mao eventually became the one people called whenever Anko became too much for them, and Mao was both amused and a little exasperated by this. [Love this and I want to read this whole ordeal in story format please.]

Around the time Mao was fourteen, she decided to try for a summons. She did this with the guidance of her old sensei and Anko, who had already been long signed onto the Snake contract. Mao’s reverse summoning brought her to Matsuyama Forest where she eventually found her way through the foliage and creatures living there to the master of the forest – the Great Tanuki Chagama-sama. After agreeing to come back to Matsuyama once a year to help with the harvest of food during the peak of the season, Chagama-sama allowed Mao to sign the contract. [What a cute little way to pay back to the Tanuki, oh my goodness, I want to read an omake about her helping harvest please.]

Tokubetsu Jounin/Jounin days:

Once both girls turned sixteen, Mao and Anko (who the Fujiokas had taken in after the Incident) moved into a cheap apartment together after becoming tokubetsu jounin. The only rules? For Anko to keep her mess confined to her room, and for her to never attempt cooking on her own. It was also at this point in time that the two joined the Torture and Interrogation subdivision of the Intelligence Division.

Mao, with the assistance of Anko, annoyed Ibiki into teaching Mao more about the sealing arts. In turn for this Mao was to assist Ibiki whenever he wanted Anko the hell away from him. Mao also eventually became somewhat of a gopher among the Intelligence Division, often being the link between Ibiki and Inoichi when they couldn’t meet with each other. [again in love with these little ideas because uhm yes Inoichi and Ibiki not liking each other???]

It was when Mao was eighteen when she first met Genma Shiranui, and that incident was all thanks to Shoukichi. The tanuki found Genma one day and snatched something of his, which eventually led Genma to Mao. He seemed really surprised when she pulled out her “box of wonders” before pulling his missing item from the pile. [YES A LITTLE EXCERPT? YES.]

(“…I think your friend might have some problems.” He jokingly eyed the creature as it scampered off, probably to snatch something else. “Might need to use some of those employee perks for therapy.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Inoichi-senpai about some therapy-no-jutsu.” Mao clasped her hands together prettily. “Would you like to be there to voice your concerns and lend your support?”

The senbon in his mouth quirked up as he smirked. “Of course, just give me the time and date, Tanuki-chan.”) [hnnnnnnnnnnnngggggg I need more.]

Later Shoukichi manages to snatch Genma’s lunch, leading the man to come strolling up once again, amused after the initial irritation wore off. Upon hearing the problem she mentioned he must have good taste, and that she owed him a meal, which he did end up taking her up on if only because he was hungry and it meant he didn’t have to pay. Though it became of bit of a normal occurrence, as Shoukichi’s favorite target for theft ended up being the same tokubetsu jounin. It was after a year of these lunches that Mao officially started crushing on the older shinobi – or perhaps that was when she finally realized it, seeing as she never offered to buy anyone else lunch after Shoukichi stole it.

When Mao is twenty-one, she takes that first step into actually making those developing feelings apparent, though it’s not quite of her own free will. Anko drags her, Izumo, Kotetsu, and a few of their coworkers out to celebrate their birthdays and Mao gets more than a little drunk. She ends up kissing Genma, though she wakes up thinking it was some alcohol induced dream. Though it’s at this point Genma starts hanging around a little more – trying to puzzle her out. And months later when it’s his birthday, later that night he kisses her –

“It’s only fair, right? You kissed me for your birthday, so I get to kiss you for mine.”

To this day he reminisces on how utterly red she turned on that day.

But, after that they begin an odd sort of teasing and flirting game that eventually evolves into the same sort of supposedly secret relationship Asuma and Kurenai had by the time Mao is twenty-four and Naruto has graduated from the academy. By this time, Mao is also a full-fledged jounin, having taken the jump the same time as Kurenai. [UHM SECRET RELATIONSHIP YES? CUTE? I SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX?]

During Pain’s attack on the village she’s a key fighter in the battle against one of the Paths. Ultimately, she ends up dead and then resurrected by Nagato - though one of her ninjutsu manages to tear the arm off of the Path that she is fighting before getting killed. [Oooh. Does she have a dramatic death? ;)]

Time skip/Shippuuden:

Mao ends up getting a genin team foisted off on her during the time skip, much to her bewilderment. She’s fairly certain it happened one night when her and Tsunade and a few others got a little too drunk – she figures it was partly Shizune’s revenge for said incident. Said team is composed of Heiwa Inuzuka – the nephew of Ashi – Kaede Yuhi, and an orphan boy named Noboru. And, much to Mao’s amusement, Noburu is supposedly Konohamaru’s rival. She uses this as an excuse to heckle Ebisu, much to his absolute dismay. [You involve so many characters who aren’t completely main and I love it? Teasing Ebisu is great and also like a rivalry about who is the better teacher is also awesome?????? I love this?]

During the time skip Mao and Genma end up getting an apartment together, which Anko still likes to complain about and tease her for all the same. Mao proceeds to pester Kurenai about her and Asuma, which the red-eyed woman takes with a grin. [Wait wait wait when did they become exclusive to all? I need answers and a description of the reactions from friends?]

By the time the chuunin exams Shikamaru was put in charge of roll around it’s been a year since Mao had her team, so she punts them towards the Hokage building without a second thought. [DID THEYSortDO GOOD???? DID THEY MAKE MAMA MAO PROUD?]

War Arc:

Haven’t finished hashing this out completely, so barebones:

The final med screenings before going off to fight find Mao pregnant.

She panics, because she’s not ready and there’s a war

Genma is also panicked, but also relieved as that means she won’t end up on the battlefield.

She spends her free time chatting with Kurenai and cooing over Mirai, as well as heckling Karin to pass the time and keep herself distracted.

Her dream under the genjutsu is getting married to Genma, and having a home constantly visited by her friends and family.

Eventually gives birth to a little boy named Nobu.

They get married some time before Nobu turns three, and Mao ends up pregnant again.

A little girl named Ritsu.

[Sorta cliche to find out she is pregnant before the battle but hey that’s shinobi life for you. And SHE DOESN’T FIGHT IN THE WAR? WHAT. NOPE I DON’T LIKE THIS IDEA ANYMORE I NEED HER FIGHTING AND KICKING ASS. YOU MADE HER SOUND SO AWESOME AND THEN BOOM ANTI-CLIMACTIC END WITH THE WAR AND NOT FIGHTING IN IT? NO SIR-E-BOB. I mean how far along is she pregnant? If she’s under 3 months, I’m pretty sure she can fight? Like if you don’t fight, you may die anyways, so why not fight? Shinobi life? Ninja way? Let’s G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!]

Epilogue/Chapter 700+:

Genma and Mao are living together happily with their two children, and Nobu’s crush on Mirai provides both of them great amusement. Mao still works in the T&I department, mostly handling paperwork and heckling the newbies. 

[Super relaxed epilogue is super relaxed because everyone who lives to the epilogue of Naruto deserves some damn peace and quiet.]

All in all; I lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ove Mao and I need her story pronto. I really don’t see many flaws with her character. Yeah, the ending was mediocre to me with the war. And yeah why does she know how to use the Hidden Mist Technique if she is a Konoha ninja? And maybe the chakra thread too but hey it’s not that big of a deal.

Final score: 9.7/10. I’m rooting for Mao. I love the small details and after going through it all, it didn’t seem like that long of a submission? But hahahaha it is. Me likey. I want more and want a story written.

Love, Dom.

[fizzypunks]

an ache deeper than this

fandom: naruto word count: 3.7l/complete rating: t

AO3 summary: shikamaru is feeling old and achy on the way back from a mission, and neji gives him a massage.

 “We’ll make a camp here for tonight,” Neji said, looking up to the sky and the setting sun. Twenty-five minutes till sundown, and two more days left till their team reached The Village Hidden in the Leaves.

 Two days till home, after over two weeks of mission. Shikamaru could have sighed in relief, but he didn’t -- though he was relieved, he felt like he’d been whittling down his stamina a lot more these days, and he didn’t want to sound too happy at the prospect of rest. He’d save his sighs and complaining for      slightly     bigger things than settling down for the night.

 Hinata stopped a couple of branches behind them, and a quick glance showed that she was surveying their area. Her eyes relaxed, with a little smile shot toward Shikamaru. “No one’s following, and there’s no one flanking.”

 Shikamaru smiled back — he never had to be concerned about their surroundings, not when he was with two Hyuugas.

 Lee looked into the same sky, the same direction, and patted Neji on the back. “That is a good call, Neji! The night is swiftly on its way, and we are in a good location to set up camp! We have done a great deal of traveling!”

 Neji laughed, looking down to the grass below his branch. “Indeed, Lee. I’ll leave the tents for you.”

 “Leave it to me! It will be ready in half an hour!”

 Lee dropped to the forest floor, followed by Kiba and Akamaru. Neji and Shikamaru shared a bemused glance. Of this promise, they had no doubt it would be fulfilled, and fulfilled fast.

 ~

 When Shikamaru wants to complain about pains, aches, and other physical issues that seem to follow him around like a persistent pet, he has to remind himself to not call it a factor of old age. That just wasn’t possible. He knew it, and if he were to say it, it would make him sound more whiny than he cared to be these days.

 It’s just the way of a ninja -- who cares if he’s 21, he’s been an active shinobi since he was 12. He’s lived through war, too many S-rank missions to count, and plays an active role fulfilling academy duties such as dodging hyperactive students with weapons. He’s a seasoned shinobi, and he has the scars (and joints) to prove it.

     You’re not old, you’re a ninja.  

 That still doesn’t make the aches and tightness in his shoulder any better -- knowing the cause doesn’t prevent it from happening. Short of retiring, which he didn’t see coming any time soon,      this     was going to be his life. He was going to have to get used to it.

 Maybe he can grumble. A little bit.

 “Nara,” came the calming voice to pull him from his thoughts.

 Shikamaru looked up from the log he was backed against, eyes focusing in on the Hyuuga in front of him. The sky blended into his long, restrained hair, and the calm fire lit behind him brought a glow to his white robes. His hands were in his pockets, and from his flat expression, it wouldn’t be easy to assess his demeanor.

 Shikamaru smiled, which in turn brought one from Neji.

 “Nara? You haven’t called me that in a while.”

 “You haven’t complained in a while, either, so I figured I’d check in.”

 “You’re such a good squad leader. Thanks, captain.”

 Neji’s eyes shifted to the side, a self satisfied smile replacing the gentle one before. “Don’t call me that.”

 Shikamaru laughed, propping his arms over the back of the log. He liked this. He      missed     this. He sees Neji often enough, but by misfortunes way, they often take on different missions. This shared mission, it would seem, is a blessing. Even if it was more trouble than it was worth, but it was also an incredible peace of mind to be side-by-side with him and not just waiting to be reunited.

 That was more common than not, too.

 Neji sat down on the same log Shikamaru rested against, just to the left of him. His robes were sullied with the regular wear and tear of a mission, and due to the nature of their combatants in the land of earth, the edges of his pants were singed and blackened.

 Shikamaru reached out and rolled the material between his fingers, watching parts of it break off. “Did you consider that maybe there’s nothing to complain about?”

 Neji looked down to him, then sighed. “This mission is long, got derailed, took longer than anticipated, and no one has slept in a bed in two weeks. I’d consider that… troublesome.”

 Shikamaru chuckled, dropping the hem of his pant leg. His eyes turned toward the fire, where Lee, Kiba, and Hinata roasted veggies. “Hmm. You have a point.”

 Neji rested a hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder, and Shikamaru tried not to flinch. He thought he must have done a good job, since Neji didn’t comment on it. He just squeezed, gazing out to their friends at the far side of camp.

 “When we’re home, it’s possible we might have to take on another S-rank. Kakashi already told me that he got word of missionaries out in the Mist, and he doesn’t want to send genin or chunin.”

 Shikamaru couldn’t help it this time, he had to sigh - he      had     to, in some way, let out his frustrations, and nothing was appropriate except for the soft tufts of tension that need to be released from his body.

 This life was clearly not made with him in mind -- he could do it, but it was a pain.

 “What a drag.”

 Neji squeezed again. “Indeed.”

     Man, my shoulder hurts -- what the fuck did I do to it?  

 Kiba and Akamaru were wiped too, because Lee was animatedly talking to him and Kiba was only nodding in agreement. Hinata, with a bowl of food in hand, was more engaged in the conversation, smiling and nodding along as Lee continues his story.

 They were far enough that the two of them couldn’t hear any details, just tones, just exclamations. It was sort of heart-warming, if Shikamaru ponders on it. Walking away from a mission that took blood and sweat and tears (Lee’s, admittedly, but tears nonetheless), only to be sitting with your friends and teammates in a tranquil evening of rest.

 It’s nice, seeing everyone you love alive.

 “So, which shoulder is it?”

 Neji’s hand was still resting on him, atop his jacket, and Shikamaru was again removed from his thoughts.

 “Hmm? What?”

 Neji shot an annoyed glance downward. “Where are you hurting? And don’t tell me you’re not, you’ve been favoring your left arm and side all day.”

     Ah    ,      to think a Hyuuga wouldn’t see… that Neji wouldn’t know. Should’a figured.  

 “It’s not that bad.”

 “But it hurts?”

 Shikamaru laughed, looking up to Neji and trying to be annoyed and finding that he couldn’t. Neji could frustrate him, call him on his shit, or generally be a pain to deal with on missions, but Shikamaru couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. “... A little bit, I guess.”

 “Take off your jacket,” Neji said immediately, like all he needed was a reason.

 Shikamaru obliged, and he removed his flak jacked with all the care in the world. Sitting down, having a chance for his body to relax and not move, had set his muscles into a calm state that did not take kindly to being interrupted.

 The sharp pains running down his back, his scapula, and his neck were renewed. He gasped when his jacket was freed from his shoulders. “Damn it,” he sighed, setting it off to the side.

 “I thought you said it wasn’t that bad?”

 Shikamaru shook his head. “It isn’t,” he insisted, but he didn’t try to sound convincing.

 It was Neji’s turn to sigh. In a quick and quiet motion, he stood, hitching a leg around the log so that he could sit behind Shikamaru. Shikamaru sat on the ground, a long leg on either side of him.

 Shikamaru immediately tensed when he realized what Neji had in mind, and looked over his shoulder with an expression he hoped wasn’t too surprised. “      Neji    ,” he said, not quite a whisper, but through tense lips. “They’re…”

 Neji took it all in amusement. “Kiba and Hinata are nearly asleep, and there’s no force in the world that will make Lee observant enough to notice.”

 His hands came up to lay gently across Shikamaru’s shoulders, no force behind them, just intent and awaiting action. Shikamaru wanted it in his heart, his muscles begged for a massage that would bring an end to their ache, but the type of person he is has      never     made him feel relaxed in the face of public displays of affection...

 They’ve been together for three years, and everyone knows this, and he will      still     feel himself grow stiff at the thought of being open or vulnerable in public. His ears still would warm if he’s caught in the middle of a kiss…

     It’s a damn curse.  

 Neji’s hands, all soft angles and long digits, rose up the sides of his shoulder, encouraged to do so with the silence Shikamaru granted him, rather than complaints and arguments. They climbed just to the length of skin between his shoulder and his neck. He leaned down, head dipping to the right, his lips ghosting the shell of Shikamaru’s ear. “Can I let down your hair?”

 Shikamaru’s face felt warm -- too warm, too fast. He nodded, eyes forward in anticipation. It was dumb, but he’s just... never been the type to be vulnerable in public -- and      never    on a mission. But he nodded all the same, because Neji’s hands were convincing in any circumstance, and maybe this little log, far away from camp, was private enough.

 The sounds from the campfire kept steady, a gentle scene of friendly stories and muffled laughter.

 “Thank you,” Neji whispered, and he quickly did away with the band in Shikamaru’s hair. He combed through the mass, making sure to not catch in any knots so it could lay flat.

 “That’s nice,” Shikamaru sighed, surrendering to him despite their circumstance.

 Neji carded through his hair, gently and with great care. He was slow, and the feeling was like a calm shore lapped at by little waves. And when he brought his fingertips to trace long paths down his head, Shikamaru definitely didn’t mind at all.

 “Don’t stop…”

 He pushed the lengths to drape over Shikamaru’s right shoulder, and Shikamaru opened his eyes, not having remembered closing them at all. Neji began pressing the tips of his fingers into the knots in his shoulders. “How about after a massage?”

 Ah, yes. That’s what he was supposed to be doing. “Oh… yeah, yeah.”

 Neji chuckled, and the sound was like a hit to the gut. “I’m sorry I distracted you,” and before Shikamaru was able to disagree, he pressed his thumbs into tender muscles. “Now, relax.”

 “Mmm,” Shikamaru winced, thumbs grazing over inflamed muscle and painful nerves.

 “Tell me where.”

 “Right where you are is      perfect    ,” and this was the way it was, he was already sinking back into Neji’s hands, eyes fluttering shut again with each passing second.

 Neji’s hands were familiar, gentle and rough in a perfect harmony that was known only to Shikamaru. He’d never experienced a place that felt safer than within the hold of these hands, and      this    embrace.

 His shoulders fell, by inches, but in magnitude it was like the tensions of a bridge held taut on ropes too worn      finally     giving away. He didn’t even know how      bad     they felt, not until he could move them without also being in discomfort. The tenderness remained, but that, too, was lessening with every squeeze.

 “Your muscles are so tense…” and he pushed a thumb deep into his scapula, a tight roll of knots lighting up under his thumb.

 Shikamaru whimpered, head tilting in favor of his left, and tried to unscrew his eyes as the pain passed. “I know… well, I know      now    , but I didn’t realize I was this --”

 A press, and a loud      pop     between his back ribs.

 “--      hnn --    tense…”

 “You should stretch with me at home.”

 “We’ve tried that…”

 “If you try with me, I’ll make sure you don’t corner me again.”

 Shikamaru smirked, the memory bringing a spark of heat to his stomach. Ghost pains of kneeling behind Neji on his bare knees came back like a blaze, but he didn’t hate it. “Suit yourself.”

 Neji chuckled again.

 When he gets past the stupid part of his brain that insists he’s doing something he shouldn’t, and publicly doing it despite it being easily viewed, Shikamaru admits that it’s not that bad. Granted, their teammates were still a distant thought that didn’t pay them any attention, but still -- he enjoyed the fact that he was able to get away from the pain in his body.

 Neji’s hands are like home, coaxing and pulling him into comfort. He opens his eyes just a sliver, peering out from his sleepiness and tranquility. The lights are little points, blurry beads and circles.

 The ground is hard, he wants fresh clothes, and there’s a creaky forest around them, but with Neji…

     I don’t need anything else.  

 “Neji…” He whispered, leaning toward his thigh. He beckons with a finger, “C’mere.”

 Neji’s hair fell, flowing down into their space, and it was like a curtain, a place that existed between the two of them; another place so familiar, his bones would recognize it no matter what. Neji eyed him from the side, quiet, attentive and awaiting. Shikamaru raised his arm to wrap around Neji’s neck, not to tug or pull or alter in any way except to say      stay    .

 “I owe you.”

 Neji shook his head, but kept his silence with a knowing smile.

 “I do.”

 He kissed Neji’s cheek, ‘cause actions are better than words.

 Neji’s hands start to knead into the conjunction of his shoulder, still under loose restraint of Shikamaru’s arm. A shooting pain issued from each contact point-- little avalanches, little aches releasing themselves from the flesh like tumbling boulders. It hurt, but then the pain gave way to better feelings, fewer pains.

 “Your hands… are so warm,” it was like he couldn’t stop the words. His voice was hoarse and too relaxed for his own liking, since it wasn’t in his house or his bed, and those too tumbled like an avalanche.

 Neji leaned into the skin he was just kneading, lips open in a kiss that only skims the surface -- like what a breath is to a shout, a droplet to a swift river.

 But then he starts to suck, and pool blood into the spot Shikamaru knows will be covered by his jacket. It brings heat to his face as he closes his eyes and leans back into the body behind him. His legs twist, just a bit, and he doesn’t have quite enough will power to not let the tension build in him -- his hips shift, his feet doing all they can not to dig.

 Shikamaru grabs at both calves beside him, squeezing.

     “Don’t do this to me    … they’re over there…”

 Neji’s lips dance further into his shoulder, and a finger tugs his shirt down over the muscled expanse to expose more skin. “I’m watching, they aren’t looking…”

     “Hinata…    ”

 “She never uses it unless she needs to…”

 “Please… you’re gonna… make me too excited…”

 “Hmm,” he laughed, little ripples dancing on his skin. “You look nice like this though…”

 Another wet kiss, another shudder down his spine and straight to his crotch --

     “You’re a fucking menace    ,” Shikamaru hisses.

 Neji laughs and the vibration carries across his skin, and Shikamaru starts to think that this entire thing was a ploy just to mess with him. But then he retreats, slowly and with a small parting kiss to the skin now blooming with a bruise.

 His hands return to their original work, kneading away the tension. “Suit yourself.”

 The hot coil in Shikamaru’s stomach sits in wait, and the hidden breath stuck in his chest came out in a nervous exhale. His heart wasn’t racing but it still surged, and now it too was trying to reconcile returning to normal -- so annoyingly fast did it happen, already bringing him to a state of being needy and tired and yearning.

 Shikamaru rolled his head back, laying in Neji’s lap. “I fucking hate you.”

 “I’m just trying to relax you, it’s not my fault you’re so reactive.”

 They fell into a peaceful silence after a quiet hum of acknowledgment -- before so long, the deep-rooted pain in Shikamaru started to ease, soothed by the heat of Neji’s chakra as he focused on chakra points.

 The sound of silence also came from camp, where talking had slowed and the fire started to sizzle. It was in embers, and the group surrounding it was finally quieting down for a restful night.

 Watching the camp, and enjoying the sense of family that surrounded him, Shikamaru crossed his right hand across his body to rest it on Neji’s. “I wonder if this is what life is gonna look like.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “For years, we’re going to be going on missions, and we’re all going to be waiting for the rest of us to come back. I just wonder…” And he couldn’t take his eyes off the rest of them, nor rip his hand away from Neji.

 “You’re very… sentimental today,” Neji said, leaning into his ear and using his spare hand to run his fingers through his hair again. “Are you okay?”

 Shikamaru nodded, ignoring the goosebumps Neji’s breath brought to him. “Yeah, I’m good. Just feeling old.”

 Neji laughed. “I’m not going to address that since I’m older than you, but if you want my opinion -- yes, I think we’ll be like this.” And then a small kiss, pressed to his cheek. “I think there’s very little in this world that we haven’t dealt with.”

 “I guess you’re right.”

 And because Neji knows what’s at the heart of the issue, the part that’s      really     scary, his voice dropped and Shikamaru was certain he was the only one who could hear him. “And I’ll keep coming back to you, and waiting for you to come back to me.”

 Shikamaru’s grip grew stronger, whiter, like all the pain in his body suddenly relocated into his heart and he had to hold on to      something     to not get lost in it.

 “You better,” Shikamaru said, voice swallowed up in his intention. He didn’t realize how heavy this was.

 “And you’ll come back, too, right?”

 Shikamaru knows he can’t even promise it, yet he feels it in his gut. “Yes,” he responded immediately, forcefully, and his grip became stronger to emphasize.

 The shape of Neji’s breath was a smile, and then a hum. “That’s all I want to hear.”

 Shikamaru leaned into him, and couldn’t help but relish in all the ways Neji was attending to him, giving him all of his attention and assurance. The hand carding gently through his hair was grounding, just like the feeling strong thighs encasing him was comforting, and the deep familiarity of his hair and the floral scent that always clung to it...

 “And,” Neji continued, still as quiet as a whisper. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

 “Gods damn it, Neji,” Shikamaru laughed, shaking his head against the other, ignoring the stoking of the fiery heat within his stomach. “Thank you for being serious for a minute, I guess.”

 “I’m always serious.”

 “Even when you switch topics like that?”

 “Especially when I switch topics to      this    ,” and tugged his hair just a little bit, just enough.

 “Hmm, I guess you can show me,” and he lifts his hand from Neji’s to turn him, by the chin, in his direction, lining up their lips. “Since you wanna be difficult, I --”

 “HEY!”

 Shikamaru dropped his hands, dropped his eyes, dropped his very intentions with every rapid degree of heat that graced his cheeks.

 He looked toward camp in a snap of the neck, feelings stupid for his wide eyes and kick-started heart. Kiba is waving toward them, a clear grin across his face as the others behind him are shuffling to clean the fire.

 “LOVEBIRDS! WE’RE CALLING IT A NIGHT!”

     Why is he so loud?  

 Neji’s body shook with little tremors of laughter, and he knew that Shikamaru would have sounded too annoyed to answer. So he called out. “Sounds good, I’ll be on watch first!”

 Shikamaru knows what he’s doing. He does it all the time.

 Kiba flashed them both a grin, but something about it wasn’t pure and it made Shikamaru want to dig a hole and live in it permanently.

 “Sounds good!”

 “I’ll wake you in two hours.”

 “Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning his back to help put out the fire. But before he did, he shot a look to Shikamaru with a smirk. “Just keep it down, all right? Akamaru’s a light sleeper.”

 And then Shikamaru definitely wanted to be swallowed up by the ground, hitai-ate and all.

 Normally, Neji would be over there, helping, but there was little to do and what there was to be done, was very quick. Lee and Kiba relocated to their tents after their foods were put back in bags, and Hinata to her own tent after she doused the fire with dirt. Neji and Shikamaru stayed as they were, in the few minutes they took to watch their teammates, and it was almost awkward if it weren’t for their friends lack of subtlety.

 They let them have their moment, no questions asked. Shikamaru felt his heart swell again, filled with the unspoken and unconditional love he has with this family. It was a pleasant ache.

 Just a few minutes, and suddenly the dark nature was rich and comfortable and almost absolute around them. A familiar sight in the many years of camping out on missions, the consistent scenery and scents as known to him as the back of his hand. The woods were calm and quiet, and they were alone.

 “So,” Neji started, hands slowed but strengthened, intention growing from his fingertips in every movement. “Not going to bed?”

 Shikamaru relished in the darkness, in the kisses trailing down his neck yet again.

 He smiled into the soft pecks trailing down his neck, this time, and didn’t even pretend to stop them. “It’s a little too early to call it a night, don’t you think?”

 “See, you’re not getting old.”

 “I’ll show you how alive I am,” and Shikamaru kept that promise.