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daloy-politsey · 3 years ago

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On my first date with Yehoram, I offered him a sip of my prosecco at the hip Tel Aviv bar I had brought him to. He tensed, paused and quietly replied, “I’m not sure if I can. I don’t know if it’s kosher.” I immediately recognized his confession for what it was: a coming-out. I told him that it’s fine, that we can ask the waitress if the wine has a certification, that I grew up in an observant family too. He finally breathed.

I already knew that Yehoram is female-to-male transgender. In fact, it was the only thing written on his dating profile. Over the course of our year-long relationship, and then our seamless transition into friendship late last year, he explained to me that the queer community will often accept that he is trans but not that he is religious. But the same is not always necessarily true of the religious community – and particularly of his family.

There are many preconceptions about his family. The matriarch Mazal, 74, and patriarch Yehiel, 78, were both born in Sana’a, Yemen, and immigrated to the newly-declared State of Israel in early childhood. (Haaretz is honoring their request not to publish the family name.) They are visibly Haredi: Mazal wears long skirts and tucks her hair into modest black caps; Yehiel trims his salt-and-pepper beard, and wears a uniform of crisp dress shirts, black pants and a black velvet kippa.

They speak with heavy Yemenite accents – which have been at least partially adopted by their seven children – and their speech is seasoned with religious aphorisms and allusions. People are surprised to learn that Yehoram, 32, is accepted and supported by his parents, to a degree that is rare even in the secular homes of Tel Aviv.

At their kitchen table in a town near Rehovot, central Israel, Mazal has set out water, juice and a homemade cake. Yehiel has set down a voice recorder of his own, to make sure he isn’t misrepresented. They have a story to tell about being the parents of a trans son, and they have decided that I am allowed to tell it.

Before we begin the interview, both are apprehensive. After much deliberation, they decide that I can publish their names but not their images. Yehiel is a respected figure in religious circles: he serves as his synagogue’s main cantor on the High Holy Days, is a mezuzah scribe and kashrut supervisor for the Chief Rabbinate. He spends his free time poring over religious texts, with Yehoram often alongside him. His son no longer attends the local synagogue in which his father plays so large a role; the congregation knew him before his transition, and it could hurt his family’s reputation.

If someone goes to the rabbi with this article in hand and tells Yehiel that he’s out of the fold, “at our age, there’s no fight left. There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “It would destroy me.” When he thinks I cannot hear him, he says that he suspects that one of his contracts as a kashrut supervisor was not renewed for this exact reason – because of his unconventional family.

But if getting his story out shows religious parents that they can embrace their own LGBTQ children, he wants it published. “I want to help,” he says.

Mazal chimes in. “Both of us do. You hear these stories about parents throwing their children out ... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you throw out your child.”

She recounts going to the shivah of a friend of Yehoram’s – the transgender queer activist DanVeg, who took her own life in 2016. “I saw them all in the living room, with their heads on each other’s shoulders. I started to cry. I wanted to hug them all, to go one by one. And they came to me; they saw the look in my eye. There was a man who had become a woman, who came to hug me. And a young girl, and more. I couldn’t take it,” she says, wiping away tears that are coming faster and faster. “More and more of them told us that they’re alone, abandoned by their parents. How can you throw out your child? The child of a human being!”

I get up to hug her, and she cries into my back: “Why? Why would you throw your child out of your house? Why?”

They say they never suspected that Yehoram was different before he came out to them, if not unconventionally, as queer at the age of 18, some 14 years ago.

He did not employ the usual lexicon: “I told them, this is how I am – I’m wearing pants from now on and I’m not interested in men,” he recounts. In Yehoram’s absence, Yehiel recalls it as well. Yehoram sat his parents down in the living room and said his piece, and then asked his parents for a response.

“We got up immediately, as if it were coordinated,” Yehiel says. “We hugged [him] from both directions … and we told [him], ‘You have nothing to be afraid of, no need to worry. You’re our daughter, it doesn’t matter what you do.’” Yehoram then opened his backpack to show a couple days’ clothes inside. “If you didn’t accept me, I would have killed myself,” he told his parents.

From there, they worked to make sure that their son wouldn’t, for one moment, forget that he is loved and cared for. They also made sure that he could live a normal life. “It was important that he be self-sufficient, have a respectable career, be able to build a life without us,” Yehiel explains. “Every day, I’m afraid that he won’t be here. I think about how he can build his life so he’s not dependent on anyone else.”

Mazal and Yehiel tend to refer to Yehoram with female pronouns when he isn’t in the room, and occasionally slip into them when he is. To her, Mazal says, he will always be their daughter. “It’s hard for me,” Yehiel concurs. “[He] should be patient.”

Mazal calls him by his chosen name – an anagram of his birth name – to make him happy. “And to connect with [him] – what can you do? We love [him] either way. [He’s] our daughter.”

There have been difficulties in accepting him along the way, she concedes. But like many parents of LGBTQ children, they are mainly rooted in concerns that he will be able to live a safe, fulfilling life.

No one should mistake their acceptance for liberalism – they repeatedly note that the Pride Parades, with their scanty clothes and glitter, are unsightly. “The left brings it in,” Mazal says. “Non-Jews from abroad, with all their tattoos and whatnot.” However, their embrace of their transgender son and the many queer people who have passed through their doors does not come in spite of their firm religious beliefs, but is the direct result of them.

Yehiel, a lifelong religious scholar, has poured over sources biblical, talmudic, rabbinic and kabbalistic. The kabbalistic concept of the soul provides a simple explanation for the transgender phenomenon, he believes.

“We have the knowledge that Jewish souls can be reincarnated into anything – into non-Jewish families, into animals, even into food,” Yehiel explains. “We were taught that the soul of a man can be reincarnated into a woman, in order to remedy something he had done in a past life.”

When Mazal was pregnant with Yehoram, she had already given birth to five daughters and was hoping for a son. The couple went to a respected rabbi, who told them to buy a bottle of wine for the circumcision ceremony and to come see him 40 days into the pregnancy. Yehiel says that when the time came, it was hard to get hold of the rabbi to schedule an appointment, and they were only able to see him eight months in. The rabbi gave them the blessing regardless.

“The body was already formed female,” Yehiel says, but the prayers had worked: “The soul was male.”

And there is scripture to back up the existence of LGBTQ people within Judaism. “You’re not different, you’re not strange,” Yehiel says. “This [phenomenon] has always existed. It’s in the Torah, and it’s in the mystical sources.” Mazal adds: “It’s a shame that we don’t lay this out these days, to have everything written up and organized to say that it’s all there in scripture.”

At 26, Yehoram told his parents he was transitioning. He underwent top surgery – a double mastectomy – without informing them. “On the one hand, it hurt us,” Yehiel admits. “For us, it meant that’s it – it’s sealed. If he’d told us in advance, we would have told him to wait. Maybe the situation would change.”

But what’s done is done, Mazal says. “What hurt me is that [he] underwent the surgery and I wasn’t there. That ate at me.”

Both loudly agree that the important thing is that he is happy and healthy. “We hope just for success – and thank God there are many successes, so everything is alright,” she says. “I’m just waiting for children,” she laughs.

Yehoram, who has taken a seat next to her, smirks. Mazal jokes about him coming home pregnant one day. He’s slightly irked, but jokes along. A couple of years ago, he froze his eggs through Ichilov Hospital’s fertility clinic for transgender men, and hopes to one day become a father, no matter how he has to do it. His parents strongly supported the move. They have 31 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Yehoram asks a question of his own: Whether his parents want to talk about the time they took him to an esteemed rabbi in Tel Aviv, after he came out at 18.

“After he told us everything, we consulted with a rabbi,” Yehiel relays. “I remember that he got angry and yelled at him. I didn’t like that. He hurt him, and I couldn’t stay any longer, so we left.”

“The rabbi told me that I had lapsed, deteriorated in my spirituality,” Yehoram explains. It’s clear that he remembers it vividly. “That I had fallen.”

After that, the rabbi told him to leave the room, and for his parents to stay. “I heard shouting, and then you left the room,” he says to his parents. “You didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. We were quiet all the way home.”

No one discussed the incident for days after, and they barely spoke at all. After three days, Yehoram says, he asked his mother what had happened after the rabbi told him to leave the room.

“I didn’t know what happened, I assumed the worst. You told me that [Dad] got very angry and told [the rabbi], ‘How dare you hurt and belittle a Jewish soul?’ You said you had to give him however much money, and that you just threw a small bill onto the table and left the room,” Yehoram tells his mother. “It really surprised me. I thought you were on his side, and then I suddenly heard that you were on mine.”

When he is with us in the room, Yehoram sometimes seems agitated by his parents’ insistence that their acceptance has always been complete. He tries to direct them toward other instances, other rabbis they don’t or won’t recall. It is often difficult for parents to acknowledge the pain or discomfort that their actions caused their children, even if they were accidental. Mazal brings out a picture from Yehoram’s bat mitzvah, of them embracing the young girl he was. They look almost exactly the same, 20 years later, beaming. Young Yehoram, in a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Elisha Alexander, co-CEO and founder of the transgender advocacy and information organization Ma’avarim, says that even though Yehiel and Mazal’s acceptance of their son may seem unique, he would like to think it’s more common than we assume.

“There are religious and even ultra-Orthodox people who accept their trans family members, but it’s usually in secret. The main problem in these communities is the leadership,” he says.

But if more of them realized that embracing their children was a matter of pikuach nefesh – the Jewish concept that saving a life supersedes most religious commandments and norms – they would be more inclined to find a halakhic solution to integrating transgender people into these communities.

There is also a misconception that acceptance is a binary choice: That any parent who does not kick their transgender child out of the house or disown them has, by default, accepted them. “This could not be further from the truth,” Alexander says. “Accepting your child means accepting every aspect inherent to them, including their gender identity, pronouns and so on.”

When parents refuse to do so, their child may seek acceptance elsewhere. He adds that studies show that acceptance within the family drastically reduces the suicide rate among transgender people.

Knowing this, Yehiel says that any parent in his position must continue loving and supporting their child. “This child can fall,” he says. He does not mention it, but he is aware of the stories and statistics: trans youth who find themselves on the street face high rates of abuse and exploitation. Thirty to 50 percent of transgender teens report suicidal thoughts and behaviors – a rate three times higher than for teens overall. But that figure falls to 4 percent when families accept and embrace them, says Sarit Ben Shimol, manager of the Lioness Alliance for families and transgender children and teenagers.

Yehiel adds that it is the duty of parents to give children the support they need to thrive. “As a parent, it is your responsibility to tell your child: You are my child and you are my life. My life depends on you. Watch over me so that I can watch over you,” he says.

As we get up from our seats, Yehiel looks at me for a moment and asks, “If it’s not too personal – since we already opened up the topic – what is your relationship like with your parents?”

I tell them that I talk to my parents, and especially my mother, almost every day. That it was difficult for them to come to terms with my sexual orientation as well, and that sometimes I have an inkling that it still is, even if they won’t say it outright. But I try to be patient.

“Good,” Mazal says. “It’s important to be patient – they’re learning too.” She embraces me again, and Yehiel rests a hand on my shoulder. They invite me to come again, whenever I like. “After all, you’re like our daughter, too.”

#lgbt jews #transgender #judaism #jumblr #transphobia cw

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whitehotharlots · 3 years ago

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The point is control

Whenever we think or talk about censorship, we usually conceptualize it as certain types of speech being somehow disallowed: maybe (rarely) it's made formally illegal by the government, maybe it's banned in certain venues, maybe the FCC will fine you if you broadcast it, maybe your boss will fire you if she learns of it, maybe your friends will stop talking to you if they see what you've written, etc. etc.

This understanding engenders a lot of mostly worthless discussion precisely because it's so broad. Pedants--usually arguing in favor of banning a certain work or idea--will often argue that speech protections only apply to direct, government bans. These bans, when they exist, are fairly narrow and apply only to those rare speech acts in which other people are put in danger by speech (yelling the N-word in a crowded theater, for example). This pedantry isn't correct even within its own terms, however, because plenty of people get in trouble for making threats. The FBI has an entire entrapment program dedicated to getting mentally ill muslims and rednecks to post stuff like "Death 2 the Super bowl!!" on twitter, arresting them, and the doing a press conference about how they heroically saved the world from terrorism.

Another, more recent pedant's trend is claiming that, actually, you do have freedom of speech; you just don't have freedom from the consequences of speech. This logic is eerily dictatorial and ignores the entire purpose of speech protections. Like, even in the history's most repressive regimes, people still technically had freedom of speech but not from consequences. Those leftist kids who the nazis beheaded for speaking out against the war were, by this logic, merely being held accountable.

The two conceptualizations of censorship I described above are, 99% of the time, deployed by people who are arguing in favor of a certain act of censorship but trying to exempt themselves from the moral implications of doing so. Censorship is rad when they get to do it, but they realize such a solipsism seems kinda icky so they need to explain how, actually, they're not censoring anybody, what they're doing is an act of righteous silencing that's a totally different matter. Maybe they associate censorship with groups they don't like, such as nazis or religious zealots. Maybe they have a vague dedication toward Enlightenment principles and don't want to be regarded as incurious dullards. Most typically, they're just afraid of the axe slicing both ways, and they want to make sure that the precedent they're establishing for others will not be applied to themselves.

Anyone who engages with this honestly for more than a few minutes will realize that censorship is much more complicated, especially in regards to its informal and social dimensions. We can all agree that society simply would not function if everyone said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. You might think your boss is a moron or your wife's dress doesn't look flattering, but you realize that such tidbits are probably best kept to yourself.

Again, this is a two-way proposition that everyone is seeking to balance. Do you really want people to verbalize every time they dislike or disagree with you? I sure as hell don't. And so, as part of a social compact, we learn to self-censor. Sometimes this is to the detriment of ourselves and our communities. Most often, however, it's just a price we have to pay in order to keep things from collapsing.

But as systems, large and small, grow increasingly more insane and untenable, so do the comportment standards of speech. The disconnect between America's reality and the image Americans have of themselves has never been more plainly obvious, and so striving for situational equanimity is no longer good enough. We can't just pretend cops aren't racist and the economy isn't run by venal retards or that the government places any value on the life of its citizens. There's too much evidence that contradicts all that, and the evidence is too omnipresent. There's too many damn internet videos, and only so many of them can be cast as Russian disinformation. So, sadly, we must abandon our old ways of communicating and embrace instead systems that are even more unstable, repressive, and insane than the ones that were previously in place.

Until very, very recently, nuance and big-picture, balanced thinking were considered signs of seriousness, if not intelligence. Such considerations were always exploited by shitheads to obfuscate things that otherwise would have seemed much less ambiguous, yes, but this fact alone does not mitigate the potential value of such an approach to understanding the world--especially since the stuff that's been offered up to replace it is, by every worthwhile metric, even worse.

So let's not pretend I'm Malcolm Gladwell or some similarly slimy asshole seeking to "both sides" a clearcut moral issue. Let's pretend I am me. Flash back to about a year ago, when there was real, widespread, and sustained support for police reform. Remember that? Seems like forever ago, man, but it was just last year... anyhow, now, remember what happened? Direct, issues-focused attempts to reform policing were knocked down. Blotted out. Instead, we were told two things: 1) we had to repeat the slogan ABOLISH THE POLICE, and 2) we had to say it was actually very good and beautiful and nonviolent and valid when rioters burned down poor neighborhoods.

Now, in a relatively healthy discourse, it might have been possible for someone to say something like "while I agree that American policing is heavily violent and racist and requires substantial reforms, I worry that taking such an absolutist point of demanding abolition and cheering on the destruction of city blocks will be a political non-starter." This statement would have been, in retrospect, 100000000% correct. But could you have said it, in any worthwhile manner? If you had said something along those lines, what would the fallout had been? Would you have lost friends? Your job? Would you have suffered something more minor, like getting yelled at, told your opinion did not matter? Would your acquaintances still now--a year later, after their political project has failed beyond all dispute--would they still defame you in "whisper networks," never quite articulating your verbal sins but nonetheless informing others that you are a dangerous and bad person because one time you tried to tell them how utterly fucking self-destructive they were being? It is undeniably clear that last year's most-elevated voices were demanding not reform but catharsis. I hope they really had fun watching those immigrant-owned bodegas burn down, because that’s it, that will forever be remembered as the most palpable and consequential aspect of their shitty, selfish movement. We ain't reforming shit. Instead, we gave everyone who's already in power a blank check to fortify that power to a degree you and I cannot fully fathom.

But, oh, these people knew what they were doing. They were good little boys and girls. They have been rewarded with near-total control of the national discourse, and they are all either too guilt-ridden or too stupid to realize how badly they played into the hands of the structures they were supposedly trying to upend.

And so left-liberalism is now controlled by people whose worldview is equal parts superficial and incoherent. This was the only possible outcome that would have let the system continue to sustain itself in light of such immense evidence of its unsustainability without resulting in reform, so that's what has happened.

But... okay, let's take a step back. Let's focus on what I wanted to talk about when I started this.

I came across a post today from a young man who claimed that his high school English department head had been removed from his position and had his tenure revoked for refusing to remove three books from classrooms. This was, of course, fallout from the ongoing debate about Critical Race Theory. Two of those books were Marjane Satropi's Persepolis and, oh boy, The Diary of Anne Frank. Fuck. Jesus christ, fuck.

Now, here's the thing... When Persepolis was named, I assumed the bannors were anti-CRT. The graphic novel does not deal with racism all that much, at least not as its discussed contemporarily, but it centers an Iranian girl protagonist and maybe that upset Republican types. But Anne Frank? I'm sorry, but the most likely censors there are liberal identiarians who believe that teaching her diary amounts to centering the suffering of a white woman instead of talking about the One Real Racism, which must always be understood in an American context. The super woke cult group Black Hammer made waves recently with their #FuckAnneFrank campaign... you'd be hard pressed to find anyone associated with the GOP taking a firm stance against the diary since, oh, about 1975 or so.

So which side was it? That doesn't matter. What matters is, I cannot find out.

Now, pro-CRT people always accuse anti-CRT people of not knowing what CRT is, and then after making such accusations they always define CRT in a way that absolutely is not what CRT is. Pro-CRTers default to "they don't want students to read about slavery or racism." This is absolutely not true, and absolutely not what actual CRT concerns itself with. Slavery and racism have been mainstays of American history curriucla since before I was born. Even people who barely paid attention in school would admit this, if there were any more desire for honesty in our discourse.

My high school history teacher was a southern "lost causer" who took the south's side in the Civil War but nonetheless provided us with the most descriptive and unapologetic understandings of slavery's brutalities I had heard up until that point. He also unambiguously referred to the nuclear attacks on Hiroshmia and Nagasaki as "genocidal." Why? Because most people's politics are idiosyncratic, and because you cannot genuinely infer a person to believe one thing based on their opinion of another, tangentially related thing. The totality of human understanding used to be something open-minded people prided themselves on being aware of, believe it or not...

This is the problem with CRT. This is is the motivation behind the majority of people who wish to ban it. It’s not because they are necessarily racist themselves. It’s because they recognize, correctly, that the now-ascendant frames for understanding social issues boils everything down to a superficial patina that denies not only the realities of the systems they seek to upend but the very humanity of the people who exist within them. There is no humanity without depth and nuance and complexities and contradictions. When you argue otherwise, people will get mad and fight back.

And this is the most bitter irony of this idiotic debate: it was never about not wanting to teach the sinful or embarrassing parts of our history. That was a different debate, one that was settled and won long ago. It is instead an immense, embarrassing overreach on behalf of people who have bullied their way to complete dominance of their spheres of influence within media and academe assuming they could do the same to everyone else. Some of its purveyors may have convinced themselves that getting students to admit complicity in privilege will prevent police shootings, sure. But I know these people. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ve read their work. The vast, vast majority of them aren’t that stupid. The point is to exert control. The point is to make sure they stay in charge and that nothing changes. The point is failure.

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 73 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Courtney committed a fireable offense when she lost Miss Fame’s sketches.

This Chapter: Bianca rides in on a white horse, and Violet says yes to cake.

***

BIANCA: I need Courtney’s address

ADORE: Why

BIANCA: Because she seems upset and she’s not answering and I’m worried

ADORE: What did you do?

BIANCA: NOTHING

BIANCA: I don’t think

BIANCA: Something probably happened at work

BIANCA: ADORE. SEND THE ADDRESS FOR FUCK’S SAKE

BIANCA: I WILL CUT YOU OFF BITCH

BIANCA: Adore, please.

ADORE: Fine! But if she’s mad, that’s on you

BIANCA: ACCEPTED

ADORE: Just to warn you, it’s a real shithole

BIANCA: Alright, alright, just please send the address

Even though Bianca felt like a little bit of a stalker just showing up at her place like this, she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do. Courtney had cancelled with those few cryptic messages and then gone radio silent. Bianca knew her well enough by now to be certain that something had gone wrong, since just hours earlier, she was sending sweet messages about how much she couldn’t wait for them to be together.

She tried calling her a few more times from the car, but there was no answer. Finally, standing in front of the crumbling brownstone, she had to come clean.

BIANCA: Look, I’m sorry for taking drastic measures, but I was really worried…

BIANCA: I’m outside your building

Seconds later, her phone rang. She answered, heart filling with relief. “Hi baby-”

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice sounded broken and raw, and it was immediately clear that she’d been crying. Bianca could feel her heart in her throat, head suddenly racing with all the possibilities of things she may actually have done wrong. Had she really fucked this up so quickly?

“I was worried about you, so I thought…” Bianca bit her lip, afraid to even ask if she was the one who had upset Courtney like this. “Are you gonna let me inside?”

There was a pause, a few beats, the sound of sniffling.

“I just...I kind of don’t want you to...see it.” She sounded choked up again, voice small and soft.

“Angel…” Bianca couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. It didn’t sound like she was angry, at least not with Bianca--just ashamed of where she lived, which Bianca could understand. “Do you think I’ve always lived in a penthouse?”

“No,” Courtney admitted after a pause.

“No,” Bianca repeated. “Not by a longshot. Please let me in, I need to see you. I just want to talk.”

A few minutes later, Courtney appeared, opening the door from the basement level. Bianca raced down the narrow steps and swept her into a hug, trying not to fret too much about the way she hung limply in her arms.

She followed her inside, and while she’d been prepared for something small and substandard, based on everything she’d heard so far, this was far worse than her fears. A tiny basement unit, dank and dark with exposed pipes and what looked like the world’s oldest sofa bed. It was also clearly an illegal sublet with no kitchen--only a metal, industrial sink with an electric kettle and micro-fridge below.

Besides the bed, there was little furniture. Her closet appeared to be two wardrobe boxes, and a few other boxes were stacked next to the bed to create a makeshift side table. Bianca took it all in, wondering exactly how she ended up in such a dismal place.

But now was not the time to ask about that, not when Courtney looked so utterly miserable. Even in the dim lighting, Bianca could see that her eyes were red and swollen. She followed her to the sofa bed, sitting down gingerly beside her (and holy shit was that thing uncomfortable) and taking one of her hands into her lap.

“Tell me why you’re so upset, angel, please.”

Courtney took a shaky breath, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I did something...really terrible today.”

“Did you kill someone? Do you need me to get a shovel?” Bianca asked, and she was rewarded with a hint of a smile as Courtney shook her head.

“No, but…” Every trace of smile disappeared from her face as she said, “I bet Miss Fame is gonna think this is worse.”

“What happened?”

“I accidentally left an envelope with a bunch of her sketches in a cab.” A tear rolled down her reddened cheek.

Bianca’s eyes went wide, understanding why Courtney was so distraught. Fame rarely sketched anymore, but when she did, she was as attached to the original work as if it was a piece of her own body. She immediately went into problem-solving mode, trying to think of things to mitigate the damage.

“Have you tried calling the cab company-”

“I don’t know which cab company it was, I didn’t get a receipt and I can’t remember no matter how hard I try,” Courtney cried. “But I did call, I must have called a hundred different companies, but...I think they might be gone.”

“Okay-”

“It’s not okay! Her sketches, her original sketches! How could I have done that, I’m so dumb, I’m so bad at that stupid job!” More tears poured down her cheeks, sobs heaving her chest.

“Hey, come here…” Bianca pulled her in, hushing her softly, a hand rubbing circles into her back. “I know, I get what a big deal it is, but it sounds like you did everything you could. And I promise you, it’ll be okay-”

“How?! How will it be okay?! I’m gonna get fired!” Courtney exclaimed, and Bianca had to bite her tongue, the word ‘so?’ nearly slipping from her lips.

“Okay, well...let’s say you do get fired,” Bianca said slowly. “I don’t think you will, but if you do...would that be so bad? It’s clearly not your dream job.”

“But I need it. I can’t get my new work visa without it. It’s been months and I still don’t have the answer and-”

“You don’t have a work visa?”

“Not after March. I have an attorney who’s working on it, but he keeps running into problems and he’s already charged me so much and I don’t know-”

“Hold up. Galactica hired you, but they’re not handling your immigration issues?” Bianca asked.

“Well...Violet told me not to tell Miss Fame, so I...I was afraid to bring it up with HR. But I got the number of an immigration lawyer from Miss Fame’s contacts, and...it’s all just so expensive. He keeps asking for more money, and I can’t-”

“Wait a second.”

Bianca was no immigration expert, but she knew two things: 1, getting a work visa for an entry level administrative job was nearly impossible and 2, it was actually impossible without the full support of a sponsor company.

“Whoever that lawyer is, they’re a total fraud. Don’t give them any more money, okay?”

“Oh god.” Courtney moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why can’t I do anything right?!”

“This isn’t your fault,” Bianca assured her. “You trusted a professional and they took advantage of you. They could be disbarred for that. And as for the sketches...stop beating yourself up. Yes, she’s going to be angry, and upset, but things happen. People make mistakes. I’ve made plenty, believe me.”

“Like this?” Courtney asked, eyes skeptical.

“I once dropped my boss’s wife’s passport off a subway platform.”

“Did you get fired?” Courtney asked.

“No. But I did get yelled at for a solid hour. Maybe two. It wasn’t a good day. But...I got through it. And you’ll get through this.”

“Maybe. But I just know I’m gonna fuck up again. Everything is...I don’t think it should still be this hard, not after 4 months. Miss Fame even said that, earlier today. I’m not new anymore, I should know better. I should be better. What’s wrong with me?!”

At first, Bianca said nothing, simply wrapping her in an embrace. She knew that Courtney was finding the job stressful--anyone in their right mind would find that job stressful. But the fact that it was this bad...Bianca felt guilty for not noticing sooner. She rocked Courtney slowly, letting her fall apart in her arms, whispering comfort into her ear.

After a while, when she sensed that Courtney was cried out, sobs slowing down and some of the tension finally melting away, Bianca pulled back and took her by the shoulders. She paused, considering for a minute if she really wanted to get involved before saying, “Maybe this isn’t the right job for you.”

“Well, I don't have another offer, so...oh, god, what am I gonna do? Is the visa thing really bad? Am I gonna get deported?”

“No,” Bianca said with a smile, shaking her head decisively. “I’ll take care of your visa. Don’t worry about it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but there are options. I promise, okay?” Bianca kissed her cheek softly, up near her ear, lips lingering on her tear-stained skin. “I’ve gotten pretty attached to you, so you leaving the country would be a huge bummer.”

Courtney finally seemed to relax, letting out a small chuckle, resting her head on Bianca’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave you either. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand tighter, lacing their fingers together. “Does that mean you want to come home with me?”

Courtney nodded slowly, squeezing Bianca’s hand back. “Yes please.”

“Good.” Bianca tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And, um...okay so, remember when you said that Christmas music makes you want to go to the beach?”

“Yeah…” Courtney tilted her head, puzzled.

“Well I may have booked us a little...getaway. Just for a few days. So you can have some sun and relax and get away from this dreary weather.”

“Where?” Courtney asked, eyes wide.

“Puerto Rico. It’s not that long of a flight, so-”

“But I thought you had to stay and work!”

“I can work from there.” Bianca flashed her a charming smile, adding, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did. I’m…” Courtney took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed, and then glanced over to where a beaten-up duffel bag lay on the floor. “I guess I need to pack some other clothes, although I’m not sure I have the right stuff here...”

“There are stores in San Juan.”

Courtney laughed, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. “I’m never gonna get used to the way you live.”

“You will. And that’s a promise,” Bianca said. “So will you come with me? Our flight leaves tomorrow at 2.”

“Yeah, of course! I just need like 20 minutes or so to pack.” Courtney’s mood already seemed to brighten as she began pulling boxes out of a stack against the brick wall.

“Of course, take your time. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Oh. Uh...yeah, sure. It’s uh...out that door and down the hall, on the right. I share with Fred, but I think he’s at work right now, so-”

“Who’s Fred?”

“Um-”

“You know what, I can hold it,” Bianca assured her, crossing her legs.

“I’ll be fast, I promise,” Courtney said, pulling a pair of sandals out of the box and tossing them to the floor. “And B...thank you.”

“For what, sunshine?”

“Everything.”

***

“I’ll get to the dishes in a minute, mom!” Gigi closed the door behind her, looking around her bedroom in an attempt to remember where she had put her earpods. She crouched down, digging through her backpack. Symone had made her a playlist of music she had to listen to over the holidays, and if she was gonna be put on Cinderella duty, she might as well make it productive.

It felt strange to be home; the smells, sights and sounds were all exactly the same, while she couldn’t help but feel different, like she had grown up in the weeks she was away.

Some of her friends had reached out when they had seen on Instagram that she had returned to L.A, but she hadn’t responded yet. She was an adult now, with a real job, not a college kid that could mess around and do all the things she used to, hanging out in the skate park suddenly so lame and childish compared to all the things she was doing in New York.

She had spent the day in her mom’s studio, watching her work like she had done so many times before, her mom excitedly asking about what clothes she should make her, and showing her all of the sketches she had done while Gigi was away based on the pictures she had sent.

Gigi couldn’t wait to wear her mom's creations, the outfits more chic than anything she had seen in the multiple designer stores she had now been in. Sutan’s words that her style was her edge ones she had really taken to heart.

“There!” Gigi exclaimed triumphantly, pulling her earpods out of her backpack. She grabbed her phone, and was just about to get to the kitchen to do the dishes, when she saw that she had gotten a message from Symone, a massive grin spreading on her face as she slid back down to the floor, leaning against her bed to respond, her chores completely forgotten.

***

JINKX: Hey honey. Just want to make sure you made it home from the airport okay.

JINKX: I read it was snowing a ton.

JINKX: Plus you know, I haven’t heard from you in almost 4 hours so I miss you like crazy.

JINKX: ;-P

ALASKA: Haha, I’m fine. At a bar right now catching up with the bro.

JINKX: Tell him hi for me

JINKX: xoxo

ALASKA: <3

***

It was Christmas Eve Day, barely past dawn, but Courtney was already awake. She’d slipped from the bed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Bianca, padding over to the big picture window to watch the golden sunlight reflecting off the buildings, admire the light dusting of snow on the trees in the park. She wasn’t used to thinking of New York as pretty, but from up here, it really was.

“Hey...good morning…” Bianca said, her voice rough with sleep, just the way Courtney loved most.

“Good morning.” She turned around, giving her a slightly apologetic smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nahh...I guess my body just doesn’t want to sleep without you.”

“I love it when you’re cheesy,” Courtney giggled.

“Oh yeah? Plenty more where that came from. What are you doing all the way over there?”

“Just...checking out the view. It’s pretty amazing.” Courtney turned and headed back to the bed, suddenly missing Bianca’s warmth beside her.

“The view over here isn’t half bad either,” Bianca told her with a wink.

Courtney giggled some more, crawling toward her across the mattress. “Happy Christmas Eve…”

Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, Bianca’s hands cradling her face.

“Speaking of which...how do you feel about opening one of your presents now?”

“Really? Already?” Courtney asked, eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s kind of useful, so I think it makes sense.” Bianca got up out of the bed, pulling a huge box wrapped in silver from her closet.

Courtney sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly as she ripped open the paper to reveal a gorgeous pink Fendi suitcase, covered in what had to be custom crystals. Her mouth fell open.

“I figured you could use it for our trip. You know. I’m all about practical gifts.”

Courtney couldn’t help laughing. The suitcase was anything but practical...but it was perfect, like it was designed from Courtney’s wildest daydreams.

“I don’t know if I have enough to fill this,” Courtney said, running her fingers over it, watching the way the stones glittered in the light.

“Well...that’s cool, I could use the extra space myself.”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. She’d seen Bianca’s packed suitcases, two giant Louis Vuittons and a large, matching carry-on, nearly ready to go.

“You need more space? We’re going for a week...what are you even taking?!”

“More presents,” Bianca said, dimples deepening.

“Oh my god…”

***

Violet chewed on her lip; sorting through Google images really not where she excelled. She was looking for pictures of Raja at the Met Ball, slowly combing through what she could find since her emails to Max and Pearl had gone unanswered. It was annoying, but expected. Pearl never missed out on the chance of ignoring her emails, and Max was british so he completely ignored both phone and computer the minute he left the office, so she was on her own.

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from her station at the living room table to see Sutan head peek in through the kitchen door, his phone against his shoulder, the glasses in his hair betraying that he had been working as well even though it was Christmas Eve. “My mom’s asking if you like klappertaart?”

“... Excuse me what?” Klappertaart? Violet had no idea what that was. It wasn’t unusual for either Raja or Sutan to get a bit confused when they bounced between Indonesian and English, their sentences sometimes mixed up, but that didn’t sound Indonesian at all. “Is that German?”

“Dutch, actually,” Sutan smiled. “Remind me to educate you on the thrilling saga of Indonesia's colonial history some day.”

“Ah,” Violet felt a brief stab of shame, that information seeming like something she should have known, though she had barely even been aware that Indonesia existed before she had met her boyfriend.

“So?” Sutan walked fully into the room, leaning against the doorframe, his black pants tight in the waist, and Violet couldn’t help but admire him for a second. “Klappertaart?”

“I still don’t know what it is.”

“Oh fuck, right” Sutan’s eyes widened, and Violet laughed as she heard a noise from the phone, Murni clearly picking up on her son’s swearing, Sutan quickly putting the phone against his ear.

“Ya Bunda, ya ya, maaf,” Sutan grinned, walking over to the table before putting the phone down so he could continue talking.

“Klappertaart is… It’s a cake, that’s…” Sutan paused, clearly looking for his words. “There’s coconut and… Know what, excuse me.” Sutan held the phone up again, Indonesian falling from his lips as he talked to his mom and Violet had to hide a smile, Sutan clearly never considering what was in this mysterious klappertaart.

“There,” Sutan pulled away, “It’s a coconut cake with almonds and raisins, and we usually have it for Christmas.”

“Huh,” Violet ran over the ingredients in her head. It was incredibly nice of Sutan’s mom to ask if she liked the menu, and there weren’t any of the ingredients that she hated, though warm raisins were disgusting, but she was pretty sure she could get away with picking them off, so there was no reason to create a scene. “That sounds lovely.”

“Great,” Sutan smiled, bending down to give her a quick kiss before he returned to his phone call.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #bitney #jalaska #vitan #bianca del rio #adore delano #courtney act #gigi goode #jinkx monsoon #alaska thunderfuck #violet chachki #raja gemini #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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thestupidhelmet · 4 years ago

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Hey there, can you pls help a fellow writer? Here's the thing: I've been writing T70S fanfic for a while, and I feel that I'm managing to keep the characters in character, writing dialogue and their thoughts is easy for me now, but I'm having a whole lot of trouble with their body language.

For instance, when Jackie's really happy or excited about something, she claps her hands enthusiastically, smiles and gives those small adorable jumps. I've seen her doing that on the show and I try to bring that to my stories, but I'm having trouble writing her body language in other situations.

And that's a problem I'm having with all the characters. Like, I know Kelso and Eric both tend to gesticulate a lot with their hands when they're excited about something, but I don't know how to write them when they're scared, or sad, etc. Does that even make sense?

Anyways, I have no trouble writing about the character's feelings, I do have trouble when they need to express their feelings with something other than words, usually, their body language.

I want to give each character their own unique way to express themselves through their body. Like, Hyde and Eric, for example, will behave differently when they're like, really happy or really sad.

Hyde is not the type of guy that claps when he's really excited about something, he's a chill guy and he's the one I struggle the most to write when he's experiencing a strong emotion.

What I mean to ask is: can you give me some tips? I'm really struggling with this. Sorry if this was way too long, I don't even know if this ask made sense to you, but... well, I just could really use some help.

Hi! For my own T7S stories, I’ve made specific choices for the characters’ (emotional) body language based on my understanding / interpretation of who they are, and you can do the same. You’ve obviously observed quite a bit from the actors’ performances from the show, but I’ll describe body language you might not have spotted.

Jackie

She displays a variety of behaviors when she’s sad or upset, depending on what lies underneath her sadness. It also changes depending on her life experiences (basically, how many times her heart has been broken and by whom). You’ll find some commonalities in her body language when she’s upset, however.

When she feels hopeless or is grieving, she stays relatively still, sitting in one spot. She’ll hug a pillow or pick at a stuffed animal’s ear until her feelings overwhelm her. Then she’ll full-out cry while continuing to stay in one spot and picking at whatever she’s grabbed for comfort. See “Ski Trip” (1x13).

As she experiences more heartbreak, her stillness remains when she’s upset. She’ll stare off into the distance while crying. But unlike in “Ski Trip,” she sometimes cries silently. See “Kelso’s Serenade” (2x21).

When she’s depressed, she loses affect in her voice. Her movements are slower. See “Jackie Moves On” (2x22).

When she’s fighting to be understood -- whether she’s angry or sad or wanting desperately for someone to do something specific -- she becomes animated. She makes pleading gestures with her hands. She’ll also place her hand on her heart.

When she’s fighting for her life -- her emotional life / happiness -- she’ll let snot run down her face while trying to get the other person to understand her needs. See “Don’t Lie to Me” (7x12).

When frustrated, she’ll slap her leg, slam a door after leaving a room, or even kick or pinch the other person. (No! Bad, Jackie!) See “Nobody’s Fault but Mine” (5x23) and “The Immigrant Song” (5x24).

When annoyed or disgusted, she’ll grunt or lean her head back -- or do both at once. With Eric, she’s also sneered. (Too many examples exist to list a specific episode.)

When she’s trying to coax someone to doing what she wants, she’ll do a subtle shoulder shimmy (which I bet she picked up from her mom). She’s done this with Hyde and, I think, Donna. See “Kelso’s Serenade” (2x21) for an example with Hyde.

When she has a sudden idea she thinks is important, she’ll gasp and put her hand on Donna, Kelso, or Hyde’s knee (depending on whom she’s talking to).

Jackie will rub a person’s knee or arm as an expression of emotional support. She’ll also lean her temple against a friend’s (or lovers) when she’s feeling affectionate toward them.

Honestly, I could keep on listing body language for her. But you can find it yourself by watching the episodes. Find an episode where Jackie experiences a specific emotion you’re looking to write into your own story and see how it’s portrayed. This advice stands for the rest of the characters, but I’ll list some body language for them, too.

Kelso

When he’s scared, he closes in on himself physically, trying to make himself a small as possible. He also shakes while doing this. Or he’ll scream. Or he’ll shove someone -- even a person he supposedly loves -- out of the way to get himself to safety. He’ll also find someplace to hide if he feels it’s necessary, usually under a pierce of furniture.

When he’s sad, he’ll cry. Sometimes he’ll hug something with sentimental value to his chest, like a photograph while crying. Or he’ll rip apart something symbolic of how he’s feeling, like a cookie shaped heart.

If feelings of anger or loneliness are mixed into his sadness, he’ll sometimes cry but it’s less forceful. He’ll slump to the couch.

If he feels particularly betrayed, he won’t look at the person who hurt him while in that person’s presence, even if they’re talking to each other.

When anger and betrayal mix, he’ll get physically violent -- usually, but not always, to his own detriment. He’ll run into a screen door then yank it off its hinges. He’ll shoot someone with a BB gun, etc.

When he’s confused, he often stares blankly with a strange expression on his face.

Eric

When he’s scared, the pitch of his voice rises. He’ll swallow more. Sometimes he stutters. He’ll fidget. He’ll look from side to side. He becomes hypervigilant of his surroundings.

Eric often expresses his anger either directly or passive-aggressively. When direct, he’ll shout his feelings and thoughts or speak them at a louder volume than normal. He’s not particularly cruel in what he says.

When passive-aggressive, he’ll smirk smugly while or after making a sharp insult. He’ll rest his hands on his hips or hook his hand / thumbs in his pants pockets in between gesturing. He’ll also laugh smugly while sticking out his tongue then blow a raspberry. This last sequence of behavior seems to be one he and Hyde share, so maybe one of them picked it up from the other while growing up.

If frustration is mixed with his anger, he’ll shout and shove furniture around.

When feeling a particularly overwhelming emotion, whether pleasant or unpleasant, he tends to get on the hood of the Vista Cruiser and look up at the sky. If deeply upset, he might cry silently and slam his fist onto the car’s hood. See “The Promise Ring” (3x25).

After making a devastating choice he believes is right but breaks his heart, he’ll shove his hands in his pockets, look down at the floor or his shoes, and stay quiet. See “Love, Wisconsin Style” (4x27).

The quality of Eric’s voice often reveals a lot about his emotional state. He’ll speak really quietly, not whispering, but as if trying not to scare away a doe when delivering bad news.

Fez

Fez is relatively open and direct with his emotional expression. When he’s sad, he cries. When he’s angry, he shouts. When he’s hurt-angry, he might cry-shout. When he’s happy, he might sing a song and/or do a little dance. Or he’ll hug and kiss his friends (male and female) when he’s grateful.

He’s generally not afraid to speak his mind. If his feelings are particularly intense, he’ll demonstrate his emotional state with a physical display (e.g., ”You dump Fez? I dump fries! There’s your scene!”)

When he’s scared, however, he sometimes pulls in emotionally to protect himself. He won’t speak his mind. Or he’ll clasp his hand in prayer, look up, and ask God for help or answers. He might disregard another person’s boundaries to feel safer (see “Ski Trip” when he’s cold). On the opposite end of the spectrum, he can become obsessive (e.g., calling Eric at three in the morning to ask if they’re still friends).

Fez tends to keep his hands on his hips a lot, regardless of what he’s feeling at any given moment. It’s one of his characterizing personality quirks.

Donna

When she’s angry, she can yell her feelings or an insult (or both). Or completely swallow her anger and talk / act as if she’s fine. She’ll stomp away after an argument, whether up a flight of stairs or to her yard. In season 3, she also takes on a quality of becoming emotionally distant and dismissive, which is reflected in her body language by maintaining a physical distance while looking the other person squarely in the eye.

When she’s sad, she’s doesn’t tend to cry. She’ll talk about what’s upsetting her with emotion in her voice. She’ll gesture with her hands or bite her thumbnail. If she’s discussing her feelings with Eric, she’ll hug him.

When she’s depressed, her posture slumps.

When she’s terrified or feeling betrayed, that’s when she’ll cry. She might reach out to the other person (Eric) with her hand.

Donna tends to act out and/or become self-destructive when she’s feels powerless. Her body language gains a swagger (her walk, her facial expressions, her tone of voice).

If she’s happy, she’ll gesture in excitement with both hands. She smiles and laughs, too, while explaining what’s made her happy.

Donna will hug friends and family to show emotional support.

Hyde

Hyde does not like people knowing how he’s feeling at any given moment, whether it’s happy, angry, sad, etc. But he does express emotion through body language.

When he’s nervous and he’s sitting, his leg might bounce or his foot will shake. More often, though, he’ll cross his arms over his chest protectively. This latter behavior is true for many of his emotions.

He’ll pace when he’s conflicted. Or stand still and pinch the bridge of his nose while considering all the variables of his internal conflict. He’s very careful when speaking or purposely revealing his (emotional) truth, and he might take a few breaths before actually saying it aloud.

He’ll also pace and scratch the back of his head he’s antsy or edgy.

Generally, though, he tries hard to suppress his feelings. This often makes him stand stiffly with his arms dangling still at his sides.

When he’s amused, he doesn’t hide it. He’ll chuckle or laugh. If he’s very amused, he’ll laugh hard and press his hands against his stomach. If he’s laughing that hard with a friend, he’ll hold onto that friend for support while lowering his head.

He’s rarely happy, but with Jackie he is. His joy beams out of him like sunlight. See his private moment with Jackie at the start of “Magic Bus” (6x03) and the circle scene with Jackie in “I’m A Boy” (6x08) for examples.

He’ll hug his male friends when they’ve been gone for months or they’re about to leave for a long time. He’ll also hug Kitty and Red when he feels happy for or grateful to them.

That being said, he doesn’t like when people hug him spontaneously. Depending on who’s doing the hugging, he’ll either shove them off angrily (Kelso, Fez, and Eric), endure the hug until he figures out how to make it stop (Kitty), or even panic a little (Roy). Hyde has to be the initiator or co-initiator of the hug. He likely feels trapped and out of control otherwise, which makes sense considering the physical abuse he experienced from his mom.

He’ll clasp or sling his arm around a friend’s shoulder in camaraderie or support.

If you’d like more advice about showing character emotion through body language, I recommend The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide To Character Expression by Becca Puglisi and Angela Ackerman.

I hope this post helps! :D

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Steven Hyde #Jackie Burkhart #Eric Forman #Ask #Anon #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #Writing Advice #Fanfic Writing Advice

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ameliathefatcat · 3 years ago

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Ok, I’m thinking about a 920’s NYC au for EoA

Part 1 Background:

Naomi Turner (formally Naomi Tartakovsky) is a poor Jewish-Russian immigrant who went through Ellis Island

In this au Naomi has two brothers Chayim/Charlie (who’s four years older than her)and Lieber/Leo (six years younger than her). Her brothers names being changed at Ellis. The name last name in Russia being Tartakovsky and at Ellis having it changed to the more American Turner. The siblings mother died before they to the USA with their father .

Naomi was beaten in pogroms and other antisemitic attacks making her very feisty and willing to punch people who sneak up on her

She is also not afraid to give someone a verb lashing. When she gets angry or piss she would yell at people either in Russian or Yiddish.

Naomi still has her snark in this au. But her insults are in Yiddish

Mateo De Alva Jr’s father Mateo Sr died in war leaving him to be raise by his single mother Rafa for most of his childhood

Mateo’s mother remarried, a shady business man named Victor Delgado. Not only did Mateo get a stepfather he also got a step sister Carla

Mateo and Carla have a rocky relationship at best. Mateo doesn’t like Victor or Carla that much. Victor tries to buy Mateo’s love.

Mateo is really into the new technology coming out. Loving his radio (that Victor some how brought him)

Mateo is pretty shy. Preferring to stay in the apartment than. Carla makes fun of me for that

Elena Castillo-Flores is being raised by her grandparents after her parents died of illness. She also lives with her little sister Isabel (Six years younger than her)and older cousin Esteban (three years older than her).

Elena’s uncle and aunt (Esteban’s parents) where possible victims on the Titanic (depends on the year it takes place)

Elena is a natural born leader and musician and also has strong maternal instinct. Taking care of Isabel who was a sickly child

Her family has some money, her late father and uncle being a business owners . After her parents’ deaths Esteban got the business since he was closes male relative.

Elena has dreams of being on Broadway or being in the new thing a movie

Gabriel Nunez lives in an apartment above his parents bakery

An only child Gabe grew up playing outside with the other boys.

He was also very sheltered for most of his childhood

He loves his toy soldiers as kid wanting to become an American hero and join the army when he’s old enough

Gabe often tries to stop bad things from happening, breaking up fights and trying to stop petty crime

#elena of avalor #au #1920s au #princess Elena #Naomi Turner #gabe nunez #mateo de alva #Jewish! Naomi #more to come later #idk what this is #this is the mid 20s btw #all four amigos are teenagers #Gabe and Mateo would probably have to serve in ww2 #they would probably start their families during the Great Depression

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hintofcolor · 4 years ago

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Things I’ve managed to convince myself are canon:

Dick was born in Romania and spent his entire childhood traveling with the circus not once settling down therefore when his parents died in America (supposedly just another country they stopped in) he was forced to stay there. Meaning dick was an illegal immigrant for a long time while Bruce constantly was trying to use his money and power to get Dick legal without him leaving the country OR anyone finding out

This also means Dick couldn’t really speak English when he moved in with Bruce (this is backed up by him constantly dismantling the English language in the YJ cartoon)

All of the bat kids were bullied brutally in school

Bruce encouraged them to fight back just like Alfred did with him (“never throw the first punch but if get hit make sure they’re the ones that stay down”)

Dick spent a couple weeks in juvie after his parents died and it was the worst couple weeks of his life

Dick had a childhood crush on Wally (who is straight) when dick was 16 he sat Wally down and told him. He told him he expected nothing out of this confession he just hated feeling like he was lying to Wally, Wally understood and was really nonchalant about it nothing changed in their relationship

Jason grew up loving wonder woman and considered her his greatest inspiration in being a hero when he was robin

In return Diana absolutely adored Jason

When Jason got older his respect for Diana only grew and Diana constantly stood up for him, even going as far as (subtly) threatening Bruce a couple times

Jason can’t handle the smell of drugs at all, he always has to wear a filtered mask during drug busts just in case

Jason used to smoke but ever since coming back the smoke just reminds him of the explosion (I saw this somewhere I can’t remember where shout out to you tho)

Jason hates the color green

Tim was severely neglected as a child

Tim learned multiple different languages from all the nanny’s he’s had

Tim is an amazing photographer

All of Bruce’s kids are really close with Selina and go to her to talk or just if they need a break from Bruce and she absolutely adores it

This is one of the main reasons Bruce wanted to marry her

Bruce might be a little awkward and socially inept but he is a good father and loves all of his kids and even tho he might slip up sometimes he would NEVER (I’m looking at you Tim king) NEVER EVER intentionally hurt one of his kids physically or mentally BECAUSE THAT IS EXTEREMELY OUT OF CHARACTER @ ANY WRITER WHO HAS MADE BRUCE A JERK GOD LEARN YOUR CHARACTER JEEZ

Damian is a phenomenal artist and is considered a prodigy

It is something he keeps to himself however

Both Dick and Tim have gone and worked under Selina during thier robin days for a few weeks

The only person who is close to Dicks level when it comes to acrobatics is Selina

There are days where you are only allowed to speak in your native tongue to help Everyone keep up their language skills (Tim speaks Filipino dick speaks Romani Jason speaks Italian Stephanie speaks Portuguese Damian speaks Arabic bruce switches Cassie speaks Chinese) these are the days duke feels like slamming his head through a wall

All of the bat kids have green lantern shirts

Tim has a habit of stealing clothes from literally anyone

Tim prefers tea over coffee

Ace and Titus are both trained service dog however Titus is Damians specifically while Ace is trained to alert Alfred of Bruce and to alert Bruce of Dick Tim and Jason

Bruce is think about getting another dog for Cassie steph and duke because he doesn’t want to overwhelm Ace with 3 more people

Nobody in that spoiled family except for Jason and Alfred can make ANYTHING other that ramen cereal and toast

Dick is insanely healthy because that’s how he grew up in the circus AND the manor

Bruce once lit the refrigerator on fire trying to cook. No one knows how. He denies he ever did such to this day

Dick was considered a heartthrob as a teen and actually was featured on vogue in native dress and took the opportunity to talk about his culture

Vickie was fuming but so was Lois

Dick dresses like Harry styles. Convince me otherwise. I dare you.

However his go to look is a Hawaiian short tucked into black skinny jeans and black converse

Just like Selina everyone in the batfamily has a tendency to confide in Dinah

No homophobia sexism or racism is allowed in the Wayne house hold if you display any of the following you will promptly be kicked out. It has happened before

Cassie has punched lex Luther in the face at a gala

Bruce laughed

Cass has also only worn sweats and a sports bra to a gala

Cass is a ballet dancer and likes teaching her brothers the moves she has learned

When Bruce came back from the dead and found out the justice league thought Tim was going insane with grief and didn’t do anything about it he yelled and screamed for a solid hour. Then he went silent. for weeks he didn’t say a word. It was the most terrifying he had ever been

Duke hangs on to the fact that he is the only meta allowed in Gotham with absolute pride

All the robins check in on the kids from the ‘we are robin’ movement every now and again just to make sure they are okay

Adults are terrified of the bats however children love them

Every member of the batfamily has been called over by child screaming out their window only to spend the next hour helping said child with their homework

Batman makes sure he is approachable to children he wants them to feel safe enough around him to ask for his help no matter what

That has led to him: 1. Patching up stuff animals 2. Calming down imaginary friends 3. Giving opinions on important matters such as which color is the best 4. Helping with homework 5. Trying to be persuaded into convincing the parents not to make broccoli anymore. It’s his favorite part about putting on a mask

Teenagers tho a little more hesitant also approach him with a little more serious matters and more for advice. (How can I help my friend with depression? How can I help my anxiety? I think friend is doing drugs how can I help. I don’t think these are good people I’m hanging out with but now I’m too scared to stop)

However if teens catch any bat sitting on a rooftop close to their windows they ask more stupid type of questions

“Hey nightwing how do you ask out a girl?” “Red hood I’m trying to write this book so hypothetically how long does it take some one to bleed out?” “If I payed you would you take my physical for PE for me?” “How good do you think you would do on the pacer test?” “Can you tell my little sister to shut up, she’ll listen to you?” “How much do I have to pay you to scare my friend?”

Talks between people and the vigilantes from rooftop to window happen a lot and it is always the highlight of the patrol. They like that the people of Gotham trust them.

Jason was brought back via whatever that superboy reset was (I’m still a little fuzzy, sue me) clawed his way out of his grave and then found by Talia. He was then but in the pit for his head injuries. Making it easier for the shadows to manipulate and brainwash him into hating Bruce. However that’s the only thing they manipulated him into. Jason didn’t go ‘insane by the pit’ and his thoughts and stances on killing are his own. And the way Bruce handles Jason being back is what made Jason continue hating Bruce even aged the brainwashing ‘wore off’

The day his dad died was what Jason considered the best day of his life

Dick is extremely intelligent and was considered a child prodigy (this isn’t a headcanon this is actually canon some of y’all just forget and need to be reminded)

Dick loves math (also canon)

Jason can sing. Like really really well.

Theater Nerd™️ Jason Todd

Jason is scared of thunderstorms

Damian is afraid of heights

Lady shiva absolutely adores Tim

They have all been arrested a few times each for varying reasons when they were teenagers

If Alfred or Bruce yell one thier full names the other kids will cover for them but ONLY if they use the full name other wise it’s every man for himself

I know this one isn’t batfam but I think kon playes the electric guitar and has a really unique punk-ish vibe type singing voice (think hobo Johnson)

Dick has naturally curly hair

#comics #dc comics #tim drake #damain wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #bruce is a good dad #alfred pennyworth #selina kyle #wally west #birdflash #kon el

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queen-eliza-schuyler · 4 years ago

Text

Work Place Problems- Chapter 1

“Secretary Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton,” said a petite omega.

Thomas felt his breath being stolen away. This is the man he is supposed to be opposed to? This adorable, tiny, cute omega?

“You’re drooling,” Madison mutters under his breath to the shocked alpha.

Thomas quickly regains his composure.

“Nice to meet you all,” he says with all the elegance of a man of his stature. “We are having a meeting soon, yes?”

Alexander’s eyes widened comically. “We do?” he shrieks in alarm.

Washington tries not to sigh. “Yes. I’ve been telling you about it for a week.”

“I cannot believe you expected me to pay attention!” Alexander replies haughtily.

Washington couldn’t withhold his sigh this time and Thomas had to bite back a grin.

“Just go, son,” George said, tiredly.

Hamilton huffs but complies.

He rounds the corner to walk right into Angelica.

Angelica’s lips quirk up slightly but allows the omega to pass.

“Mrs. Schuyler-Burr! What a pleasure!” James says with a smile.

“Hi, James! How’s Dolley?” Angelica replies with an equally sincere smile.

“She is fine. She would like to invite you and your husband along with Peggy and Maria Schuyler-Reynolds for the annual Christmas party,” James says.

“We’d love to come. Will Lafayette and Hercules be there?” Angelica asks.

“Yes, they will! I do believe Eliza and George, along with their significant others, received the invitation,” James answers smoothly.

George smiles in confirmation.

“I do believe it’s time to start the meeting,” George said, gesturing to the large room behind him as he opens the door.

Thomas thanks him for the kind gesture and James follows in suit.

They enter the room and see Hamilton flip over through a couple of pages of notes.

“Alexander has a plan to take care of the National Debt as you all know. Thomas is representing the Southerners with Madison. You may speak first,” Washington says, addressing the room when they settle into their seats.

“‘Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ We fought for these ideals; we shouldn’t settle for less. These are wise words, enterprising men quote them. Don’t act surprised, you guys, because I wrote them. But Hamilton forgets. His plan would have the government assume state debts. Now, place your bets as to who that benefits: The very seat of government where Hamilton sits,” Thomas says, feeling slightly bad for the omega.

“Not true,” Alex retorts.

Thomas snaps back, “If the shoe fits, wear it. If New York’s in debt why should Virginia bear it? Our debts are paid, I’m afraid. Don’t tax the South because we got it made in the shade. In Virginia, we plant seeds in the ground. We create. You just wanna move our money around. This financial plan is an outrageous demand and it’s too many damn pages for any man to understand. Stand with me in the land of the free and pray to God we never see Hamilton’s candidacy. Look, when Britain taxed our tea, we got frisky. Imagine what’s gonna happen when you try to tax our whiskey.”

Thomas sits down, pleased with himself.

“Just watch. Hamilton is smarter than you think,” Madison murmurs.

Alex stands and openly smiles at Thomas.

Thomas’s lips twitch downwards. What was he planning?

“Thomas. That was a real nice declaration. Welcome to the present, we’re running a real nation. Would you like to join us, or stay mellow doing whatever the hell it is you do in Monticello? If we assume the debts, the union gets a new line of credit, a financial diuretic. How do you not get it? If we’re aggressive and competitive the union gets a boost. You’d rather give it a sedative? A civics lesson from a slaver. Hey neighbor, your debts are paid because you don’t pay for labor. ‘We plant seeds in the South. We create.’ Yeah, keep ranting. We know who’s really doing the planting,” Alex said vehemently.

Thomas was taken aback. This omega had the guts to stand up to him? He was impressed and irritated but allowed him to continue.

“And another thing, Mr. Age of Enlightenment. Don’t lecture me about the war, you didn’t fight in it. You think I’m frightened of you, man? We almost died in a trench while you were off getting high with the French,” Alex hisses in accusation.

“You don't have the votes,” Thomas says before he can stop himself.

Hamilton looks surprised at his outburst. “What?” he asked, confused.

Madison gave Thomas a warning look. Despite common belief, James truly did care for the immigrant. He was loud, annoying, and a pain in the ass, but he was also an omega.

That didn’t denote his worth but he was in an alpha and beta only field. He was quite literally, the only omega in the entire Government. And James Madison wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt.

“You’re going to need Congressional approval and you don’t have the votes. Sometimes you make me wonder why I even bother trying to argue with you,” Thomas says smirking.

“Oh yeah, Thomas? Turn around, bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits,” Alexander seethes.

“Ok, that’s enough! Jefferson, Madison take a walk. Alexander, come here,” Washington yells.

Thomas has to do everything in his power not to walk over to the omega and show him who’s in charge in front of everyone but manages to stay calm long enough to exit the room with James.

“You’ve made an enemy out of Alexander Hamilton. A man that I like. A man that many people respect and love.” Madison said, emphasizing the words, like, respect and love.

“I know,” Thomas says through gritted teeth.

“I hope you're prepared, Thomas. You just declared war,” James said.

Thomas simply nods.

#jamilton #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #bisexual thomas jefferson #gay alexander hamilton #omegaverse #alpha thomas jefferson #omega alexander hamilton #george washington #james madison

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kathyprior4200 · 5 years ago

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Alastor: Unofficial Character Profile and Timeline

Character profile

Name: Alastor (meaning Greek spirit of vengeance/tormentor)

Birth: January 24th 1896, New Orleans, Louisiana (VA Edward Bosco’s birthday is January 24, 1986)

Human name: Alastor Roscoe Duvalier Cajun (Roscoe means deer forest and is also an old term for a handgun. Duvalier is last name of Voodoo genocidal dictator of Haiti.)

Race: Part White (French-American from his father) part Creole (Native American and African-American from his mother).

Hair color: Brown (red and black in Hell) usually short, sometimes in a small ponytail or brown ends reaching slightly past his ears

Eye color: Brown (red in Hell)

Skin color: Light brown (pale gray in Hell) thin pointed chin, lanky agile body

Clothing: brown/white nice shirts with bow ties, dress coats, hunting boots, wine colored pants, the occasional top hat with voodoo pins sticking from the top.

Items: Hunting rifle given to him by his father, sharp knives, a staff with a microphone on it decorated with small golden antlers curved near the top. (The staff became a red vintage microphone with an eye and magic powers in Hell that became part of him as per the deal he took)

Date of death: 1933

Cause of death: Bitten by dog with rabies, experienced hallucinations, inflamed brain, strange excitement and paranoia. When he sees water, it’s nothing but alligators, leeches and the darkness of an ocean. He ran from police and into the woods at night. The police sent several police dogs after him, appearing to Alastor as werewolves. He encounters Hustle, a deer hunter, yelling in agony, almost caught by police. Hustle alerts the police to his location, saying “Target criminal’s over here!” Alastor grabs the gun from the hunter and shoots himself between the eyes. His body is mauled by the police dogs and the hunter sinks down to his knees in shock and fear.

Demonic life: deer demon, overlord, radio host. His deer-like shadow has a mind of its own and reveals his true feelings.

Likes: cooking, singing, dancing, electro swing, Rosie, Mimzy, Charlie (as a friend), his mother, hunting and skinning deer, being out in nature, people failing, dark coffee, the Picture Show, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, theater, liquor, dad jokes, Jambalaya, epicurean food, making voodoo dolls of the Hazbin characters

Dislikes: being touched, strawberries, post 30’s technology, dogs, anything sweet, frowning, Vox, his father, Angel’s sexual remarks, tea, spray can foods, ketchup

Abilities: supernatural powers, voodoo, radio broadcasting, shadow manipulation, warping space, singing, charm

Kalfu is Alastor’s main voodoo deity, as both are destroyers and dark sorcerers.

Mother:

Loretta Marie Duvalier (last name became Cajun): (named after Loretta Petit, real life American radio personality born in New Orleans. Duvalier is last name of Voodoo genocidal dictator of Haiti.)

Speaks French. As a human, she had dark skin, thick black short hair and often wore bonnets, dresses, and on occasion, charms around her neck. She went to Heaven for her selfless actions in comforting Alastor when he was bullied and abused. She was the only source of light in his life before he snapped.

Her voodoo deity is Erzulie, the goddess of beauty, love, femininity and motherhood.

Alastor secretly cuddles with a voodoo doll of his mother every night.

Father:

Louis Francois Cajun: White man and Christian French immigrant, descendant of two French Canadians. He fell in love with Loretta, but bi-racial marriage was frowned upon, so they held it in secret. He is a skilled hunter and taught Alastor to hunt deer and game at a young age. When Alastor was younger, he told him to “beware the gators�� in the nearby swamp. As Alastor grew older, he became more abusive to him, even molested him after sleeping with another woman on a Friday the 13th. He died brutally by Alastor in the 1920s/30s.

Louis became an oppressive black deer overlord but was defeated by Alastor a second time.

In Alastor’s vision, Louis is represented by Ogun, god associated with dogs, warriors, hunters, conflict. He’s symbolized by an iron knife and has fondness for pretty women and rum.

Samuel Cajun – Grandfather

Antoinette – Grandmother – Voodoo Priestess and Hoodoo oral practitioner

Racheil: Alastor’s friend and love interest (though he doesn’t want sex or serious romance.) She has short blonde hair and looks similar to Charlie in dapper clothes. She, like Charlie, is nice to him and loves to dance and sing. She tries to help him become a better person but after he snapped, she broke up with him and left him to solve his own problems. She almost got stabbed b him but managed to escape with her wife Agatha (whom she had married in private).

In Alastor’s dream, she appears as Oshun, a goddess connected to beauty, sexuality, wealth, pleasure, and rivers.

Alastor later makes a voodoo doll of Racheil’s similar counterpart, Charlie along with dolls representing the other characters.

Mimzy: Alastor’s friend and temporary love interest (Alastor liked to flirt with her but didn’t want to get intimate nor be tied down). Mimzy likes singing, jazz, desserts and doughnuts. She doesn’t like rock. Confident in her singing, she is the owner of a jazz club, both on Earth and in Hell. She is a short, chubby woman who wears pink/purple flapper dresses, a headband with pink feathers and short blonde hair. Her eyes were blue and her skin white as a human, in Hell her eyes were black with hot pink pupils.

Mimzy and Alastor sing several duets together on stage in both realms and even share a kiss much to the disgust of a jealous (human) Husk. As time went on however, Mimzy started falling head over heels for him, while Alastor wanted to stay friends. (She heard about his radio shows but didn’t suspect he was the killer until later). One night, a love crazed Mimzy (who had also had several drinks) tried to undress him and even reached for his private parts. He shoved her off and threatened to kill her if she assaulted him again. Then she realized in shock that he was the serial killer when he defended himself with a bloodstained knife. She tried to call for help, but he choked her with an insane look in his eyes.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Mimzy in his lair with the straw arms missing.

Rosie: Alastor’s friend, fellow overlord, and associate. Rosie wears dark pink dresses, and a large pink hat with skulls, pink feathers, and black flowers on it in Hell. She has black eyes and sharp teeth. She is the owner of her emporium, after Franklin got eaten by demons.

As a human, Rosie looked similar to Mary Poppins: black hair, white skin, elegant dresses and an umbrella in her hands. She owned an emporium on Earth. Alastor used to sing with her and help her out like a gentleman. However, this was before he became insane. Rosie went to Hell after forcing her employees to work long hours with hardly any breaks (It was during a time where people worked their lives away). Like in Hell, she was self-centered and didn’t hesitate to overpower others to fulfill her ends. Hence, she became an overlord due to the impact of her evil actions.

According to Vivziepop, their relationship is similar to Jack and Mary’s relationship from Mary Poppins: both Jack and Alastor help out their lady friends and are polite to them. Like Mary, Rosie is stern, sophisticated, elegant, and a perfectionist. She’s “practically perfect in every way” at least in her opinion. Both Rosie and Alastor love singing, dancing, performing, and killing people. The three of them met up with Mimzy and all sang together.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Rosie in his lair.

However, Rosie, like nearly everyone in Hell, has an agenda of her own: using Alastor to further her status. In fact, she often views those around her as mere friends and servants who purpose is to make her life easy and orderly. She, along with Vox, Valentino, Katie, and Sir Pentious are listed as antagonists.

Niffty: A small cyclops demon with a hot pink skirt and short pink hair with a yellow undertone. She is the maid for the Hazbin Hotel: she cleans the rooms, cooks meals and likes to sew, read and write. She is obsessed with men and was summoned by Alastor. She died in the 1950s as a Japanese-American woman at age 22. She is hyperactive and fast…and also a hopeless romantic who indulges in her own fantasies. Niffty isn’t afraid to use manipulation to get her way. Alastor summoned her from the fireplace but before that, he had charmed her into making a deal with him shortly after she arrived in Hell.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Niffty in his lair.

Husk: A black and white cat demon with red wings with card suits on them. He has long red eyebrows, wears a black hat and wears a large red bow tie. Husk loves drinking, gambling, cards and magic shows. As a human, Husk interacted with Alastor as a broad man with short black hair. He went off to serve in the Vietnam War, gambling and drinking his problems away. He died in the 1970s.

In Hell, Alastor summons the grumpy bad-mouthed Husk to help man the front desk of the hotel for “charity work” and transports him there. Alastor got Husk to make a deal with him by promising him booze, cigars, and drinks spiked with catnip. Husk can speak many languages and is good with children.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Husk in his lair.

Alastor’s ancestor from his father’s side: Marie LaLaurie, (1787-1849) real life New Orleans serial killer, cruel to Creole slaves

Dr. Facilier: distant relative

Alastor’s cousin from his mother’s side: Clementine Barnabet: (1894-1923) real life Louisiana voodoo priestess and serial killer, killed families with an axe.

Real life Axeman of New Orleans serial killer 1918-1919

Killed women and primarily used an axe. Spared those who played jazz in their homes

Albert Fish: serial killer, child rapist and cannibal 1924-1932 crimes, died in 1936

Alastor "Hazbin" Roscoe Cajun/Duvalier born January 24th, 1896 (Edward Bosco's b day Jan 24th 1986) to Francois and Loretta Cajun, born at 3:00AM; Loretta gave birth in the woods on the way to the hospital (born 3 weeks early). Light brown skin, brown eyes, round glasses, short brown hair with reddish tint, pointed chin, thin agile body

1897: Age 1 Things start off normal in New Orleans, infant Alastor plays in his crib and loves the music on the radio.

1898: Age 2 Alastor meets his uncle and aunt and discovers the marvelous outside world

1899: Age 3 Alastor watches musicals on the picture show and falls in love with them. His mother makes him Jambalaya, his favorite food of comfort

1900: Age 4 Reading and preschool, Sunday church goings which Alastor finds boring

1901: Age 5 Kindergarten: Alastor is teased for his freckles and whenever his hair glows a reddish tint in the sunlight

1902: Age 6 First grade: Alastor learns reading, writing, math, and art. He hates gym and loves music and art.

1903: Age 7 Second grade: Alastor's parents get into a fight for the first time in a while; Alastor is sent to his room whenever it happens. After he comes back upset, both his parents say that frowning is weakness. Loretta says "Remember to smile, Alastor, it shows dominance and confidence. You're never fully dressed without one." He takes that lesson to heart for the rest of his life.

Vision 1: Alastor dreams he is a young red deer who performs onstage and receives a standing ovation, representing childhood innocence.

1904: Age 8 Third grade: Alastor discovers his love of theater. He finds joy in attending and watching Mardi Gras parades and the costumes. He says 'Throw me something, mista!" during the parade but the other kids got to get the prizes thrown from the parade instead.

1905: Age 9 Fourth grade: A group of boys start to bully him and even punch him badly. Alastor smiles through it all. He tells his father and mother. While his mother comforts him, his father scolds him for not fighting back.

1906: Age 10 Fifth grade: Alastor gets his brutal revenge by daring the boys to enter into a nearby swamp. One of the bullies gets eaten by a crocodile while Alastor just watches. Alastor gets nicknamed by his father and bullies as "Alastor Hazbin."

1907: Age 11 Sixth grade: Alastor goes hunting with his father and his father shows him how to hunt and skin deer and other game. He becomes skilled over time and loves the meat. He also learns how to cook from his mother...Jambalaya being his favorite to make.

1908: Age 12 Seventh grade: Alastor gets slapped by his father for not participating in sports. Other kids make fun of him for being of mixed race. Loretta begins teaching him about Voodoo and Hoodoo. Alastor connects with Kalfu the deity and learns of his heritage as part French and part Creole. His grandmother was a powerful priestess and was believed to orally pass on stories and display feats of magic. His Grandmother was born in Haiti, moved to France and then to the U.S. His Uncle, Father, and Grandfather were Canadian/French Christians. His aunt was conflict avoidant, unlike his uncle and father. Loretta tells him (though he soon doesn't listen) that Voodoo is not to be used for evil, sacrifices, nor cannibalism and to only resort to cannibalism for survival.

1909: Age 13 Eighth grade: Alastor's father yells at him for not showing interest in girls. One fateful night, his father sleeps with another woman and Alastor notices. A helpless Loretta watches as Francois whips, humiliates and molests him in his room, warning him not to tell or "he'd kill (them) both." Loretta comforts him with hugs and Jambalaya. As he eats, Alastor imagines eating off his father's fingers.

Alastor is diagnosed with anxiety, narcissism and psychopathic tendencies. He is bullied in middle school and is not interested in sex and girls like the other boys. He finds it gross and pointless.

Loretta's Jambalaya nearly kills her when a drunk Loretta (too much Scottish Comfort) puts gunpowder and wasabi into it. Alastor's father makes him memorize Bible passages.

1910: Age 14 Ninth grade: Many girls both in school and outside fall in love, but Alastor isn't interested. A Satanic Ritual book appears after it was dropped by accident by imps. He looks through it with great interest and makes a deal with dark Loas: gain near unlimited power in the afterlife in exchange for his soul and the soul of a loved one.

1911: Age 15 Tenth grade: High school was a nightmare. The bullying was worse and Alastor became more and more withdrawn. During this time, Alastor becomes interested in being a radio host and also reads books on weapons and cannibalism.

Vision 2: Alastor dreams he is a red buck, who runs from hunters representing the elite white people. He evades a crocodile, resembling his father and his mother appears as the Voodoo goddess of beauty and motherhood.

1912: Age 16 Eleventh grade: Alastor applies to be an apprentice for a local radio station several times, but doesn't get in. His father and uncle berate him everyday and his mother is busy at secretary work, and Voodoo rituals every month.

1913: Age 17 Grade 12 Alastor graduates and applies again. He starts at the bottom, but rapidly moves his way up. He starts by telling dad jokes, then wants to talk about murder and crimes "far more interesting than the weather and social events."

1914: Age 18 After experiencing harsh critiques from mainstream stations, Alastor is fired. However, he soon decides to pursue his goals on his own. His makes radios from scratch and starts his own shows, with a few private listeners at first.

World War One begins! Alastor uses this opportunity to broadcast on a private station news of deaths in the war in graphic detail. More people start listening and his soon starts making money. Alastor makes his first kill when a man assaulted him and beat him up for him being "Black and outspoken." He was able to get away and he wondered what it'd be like to do it again on the ignorant folks.

1915: Age 19 Alastor promotes war efforts through announcements and songs, including his ending song "You're Never Fully Dressed." However, he still describes brutal murders for the sinister folks.

1916: Age 20 Alastor meets Husk and Mimzy at a jazz bar and club for the first time. He dances and sings with Mimzy, loving her confidence and sexy looks. (Though he doesn't like to be touched by anyone other than his mother, due to fatherly past trauma).

1917: Age 21 Alastor meets Racheil (alternate form of Charlie) and they become fast friends. He learns of the Axeman, a fellow serial killer and learns to be careful.

1918: Age 22 Spanish Flu Pandemic occurs! Sadly, Alastor's mother becomes gravely ill and passes away. Alastor smiles even as he cries. Alastor's father doesn't seem to care. Alastor gets raped again and his father abandons him. Alastor's mother goes to Heaven and Alastor, not knowing what else to do, eats her remains.

1919: Age 23 Alastor becomes depressed (and even suicidal for a while). He doesn't eat much. Alastor eventually snaps and begins his life as a serial killer. After his mother’s death, Alastor lost his remaining traits of humanity…succumbing to his demonic nature. At that point, he didn’t care who he ate and/or killed…it was the last think he could do to keep himself sane along with drinking liquor, coffee, sewing voodoo dolls, and broadcasting the murders by himself.

1920: Age 24 Roaring Twenties and Jazz Age. Alastor becomes known (though no one suspected it was him) by several names "Bayou Butcher," "Deer Devil" "Louisiana Lunatic" among others. Alastor revels in his fame and becomes richer and more materialistic. He buys himself suits, and a cane with deer antlers on it. One of his disturbing hobbies was using his gentleman charm to lure women into his home where he would lie them in the basement and kill them while broadcasting their screams.

Alastor plays in a jazz band and enjoys watching musicians play while smoking and drinking liquor. He often cries in private and makes straw dolls. He drinks dark coffee every morning.

1921: Age 25 Mimzy falls in love with Alastor and touches him inappropriately. He threatens her with a knife and she discovers he's the serial killer. She rushes to call for help but Alastor takes her into an alleyway and stabs and chokes her to death. Feeling slight remorse, he takes her home for his meal.

1922: Age 26 Racheil breaks up with him after being concerned about his sanity. Worried he might be caught, Alastor lays low for a while before starting up again. After Alastor's father comes back, he decides to get his revenge. He ties him to a tree and tortures him during the night. The predator becomes the prey. Alastor tracks him down to a local bar. (Although he usually doesn’t stalk or chase his victims as it breaks his moral code, but his dad is an exception. Also following others/sneaking toward them are often required to kill others.) His father had been secretly afraid that Alastor would be stronger and would want to kill him, thus proving his son more dominant than himself. He had weapons ready, but Alastor had set up several traps in advance. Though Alastor was physically weaker than his father, he was very clever. He had packed a backpack of all his weapons, rope and essential tools. His father says “You and your heathen mother deserve to die” only for Alastor to respond, “Nobody talks about my mama that way.” Seeing his father knocked out, Alastor raises his knife to kill him but stops. That would merely be too easy. He supports him by the shoulders, pretending to be concerned for him as onlookers watched in shock, “It’s okay sir, you just fainted from the heat. Let’s go for a walk in the woods.” He takes him deep in the forest and chuckles darkly.

Alastor knocks him out and ties him to a tree in a forest, waiting until he wakes up. He starts (smiling the whole time) by slicing off his father’s dick among his father’s cussing (“when you screwed me once”), inserting a hot knife inside his father’s privates (“when you screwed me again”) then slicing off his ears (“this is for all the times when you wouldn’t listen to me”), shoving his own severed penis down his throat (“When you shoved your macho beliefs down my throat”) he whips him, then slowly cuts deep down his chest with a chainsaw, organs revealed (“this is for mama”) and finally shots him in the heart (“and this is for me, you heartless bastard.”) He eats his father’s flesh over jambalaya and it’s the best meal he’s ever had.

1923: Age 27 He kills his victims in various ways: some hanging from trees with their organs spilled out, some buttered and eaten, others buried alive, some people shot and stabbed when he doesn’t feel like dragging it out. He’ll often poison other’s food/drinks and watch their reactions with a grin on his face. He enjoys tricking others into corners/tight spots so he doesn’t have to run after them. He’s found of pranks, especially deadly ones done on others. He saves brutal killings for racist men and women and those who think ill of him and his show. He becomes known as the “Deer Devil Dealer of New Orleans.” He only started killing people and animals at random after his mother died and he lost his mind.

1924: Age 28 Vision 3: : He has nightmares about a demonic skeletal deer covered with maggots and sores with chunks of meat over bone and one eye hanging loose running after him. He finds himself in a dark snowy forest, a fierce biting wind. After it seemed like he had been defeated by the monster, Alastor looks into a puddle and sees another, far worse monster, a demonic wendigo reflection staring back at him…Alastor sees a horned face and malnourished skeletal body, ripped red pinstriped dress coat, four clawed hands, red and black hair and red eyes, sharp teeth, large black antlers…the wendigo form resembling his current demonic form in Hell. After killing the alligator representing his father, the wendigo Alastor look-alike shadow appears and says “This is who you really are,” before Alastor wakes up.

1925: Age 29

1926: Age 30

1927: Age 31

1928: Age 32

1929: Age 33 Alastor enjoys the Stock Market Crash and uses the opportunity to enjoy watching orphans suffer. It helps remind him that he's far better off than many, besides the fact that kids were annoying to him. Alastor makes an "Axeman letter:"

"Hell, 1929 Stock Market Crash Esteemed Mortal of New Orleans: The Deer Devil/Bayous Butcher/Louisiana Lunatic/Hazbin of Hell

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the sound waves that surround your earth. I am not a human being, but a demon and overlord from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians call the Deer Devil. Down here, I’m the inevitable Radio Demon.

When I see fit, I shall appear and claim other victims as I see fit. I alone know whom they shall be. No clues will be left behind, save for what you might hear on the next broadcast. Tell the police and the racist, elite scum of the world to beware. Let them try not to discover who I am, for it’d be better for them not to have been born than to incur the wrath of the Deer Devil. You’ll have a deer in the headlights look and won’t have any idea what hit you until after it’s too late. Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a monster and murderer. But if I wanted to hurt anyone else here, I would have done so already. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. I could kill every one of your best and worst citizens, for I am in a close relationship with the Shadows of the Other Side. At 6:06 pm next Friday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans and then visit those in Hell. I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is: I am very fond of jazz music, electro swing, and jambalaya. I swear by all the Loas and deities that I will spare those who can provide me with some great entertainment when I visit. Word of warning, I can read you people like a book, and see into your very souls. Anyone foolish enough to challenge me will have their corpses consumed and their screams muffled by the lovely sound of jazz bands jamming the night away. I have been, am, and will be, the worst spirit that ever existed in fact, fantasy, or realm of Hazbins. Smile and stay tuned! ~Deer Devil (Alastor)"

1930: Age 34 Great Depression occurs!

The event hits Alastor and many others hard...he runs low on food so he eats others and hunts more and more to survive. Now Alastor kills at random instead of focusing on the racist mean people.

1931: Age 35

1932: Age 36

1933: Age 37 Alastor's Death

The police eventually track Alastor down with the help of Racheil and Chasseur, a fellow deer hunter whose daughter had been killed by Alastor. Not too long before the police discover where he is, Alastor gets bitten by a rabies infested dog. For the next several hours, Alastor experiences hallucinations, paranoia, brain inflammation and a fear of water. In water, all he sees is leeches and alligators. In his hallucinations, he is being watched by a wendigo. The police chase Alastor though the dark woods, police dogs hot on the trail. A local deer hunter, Hustle, joins in on the chase. Alastor navigates the woods, trying to find a place to hide. The hunter accidentally shoots him in the back as he ran, thinking Alastor was a deer.

Alastor experiences extreme agony when the deer hunter spots him, pointing a rifle at him. The hunter announces his location to the police. Seeing no other way out other than pain and imprisonment, Alastor takes the gun from the hunter and shoots himself between his eyes. The police dogs maul his dead body and the hunter sinks to his knees in shock and terror. Strangely enough, Alastor dies with a creepy smile on his face, the mark of Kalfu appearing behind his cold neck, unnoticed by anyone.

1933: After death: Alastor's old body falls away as the deal with the Loas takes fruit. The shadows give him his immense powers in the shadow world and he transforms into his demon form in Hell. He gets his microphone staff, which enables him to broadcast his murders and victories. He is known as the Radio Demon. He conquers several areas of Hell, eventually getting the attention of the overlords who know to stay wary of him.

Alastor befriends Mimzy and overlord Rosie and they sing, dance, talk and murder other demons for fun. Alastor treats them both with respect and knows not to piss off Rosie as she's stern, violent, and "practically perfect in every way."

Every year when the Exterminators appear, Alastor broadcasts the chaos during the 24 hour period, and will go out and kill the angels too.

1950s: Alastor makes a deal with Niffty who becomes obsessed with him and men. She becomes his servant/slave/associate and cooks and cleans for him.

1970s: Alastor makes a deal with Husk and Husk becomes his servant/slave/associate after Alastor promised him a better life with money and booze and the promise of " finding love."

2019: Alastor sees Charlie on TV and decides to help her with the hotel (for his own enjoyment, of course.) He dances and befriends Charlie, forming plans to use her to dig deeper into the royal family and eventually take the throne and rule Hell. He hopes that with a shadow army and more possessed members, he can invade Hell, Heaven and even Earth to spread his chaos. He defeats Sir Pentious and changes the name to Hazbin Hotel, his formerly mocking nickname he embraced.

Future: Alastor helps Charlie and the others protect the hotel from Sir Pentious, Vox, Valentino, Velvet and other villains.

Other non canon versions of Alastor:

Stalaros (commonly known as 2p Alastor). Alastor with opposite colors and personality: he wears white and blue and cries a lot. He is one of the clients at the Haven Hotel run by Caoline Egnam, Heaven's princess. Stalaros is gay and horny like Angel Dust.

Lavender/Purple Alastor: Peaceful and confident, an OC made by fans.

Radiodust Alastor: An Alastor that loves Angel Dust. Popular with fans.

Charlastor Alastor: An Alastor that loves Charlie romantically. Popular with fans.

Redeemed Alastor: Appears as a man with a deer head and human-like traits in Heaven. In this universe, he reunites with his mother.

FHE (“For His Entertainment”) Alastor: Alastor in his truly evil form: he takes over all of Hell and possesses the demons. His shadow can turn into a monster wendigo. This Alastor has a hole between his eyes from a bullet wound, and antlers stained with blood.

#hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel theory #alastor #human alastor #alastor lair

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1085

survey by -egocentricity-

On Myspace, what was in the last bulletin you posted? I haven’t been on Myspace for well over a decade; and even when I was there I didn’t have any friends added nor did I remember ever posting anything. Friendster and Multiply were a lot more popular.

When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? I took a selfie last Saturday in the dining room. It’s of me holding up the vape pen that Andi lent me for the meantime to show Angela, since she wanted to see what it looked like.

Have you ever been scolded by a mall cop? I remember being lightly chided once when I was like, 7 – I was leaning on a glass wall of a store in the mall, so the guard from that store nicely told me to get back up to be safe. Overall, I don’t think I’ve ever exhibited behavior in public that should’ve gotten me into trouble.

How often do you catch yourself daydreaming? Definitely not so much these days. I need to keep being preoccupied with work or other things to do/accomplish since my daydreaming always seems to end with thinking of scenarios that now upset me, like, idk, happier times with my ex. I’m tired of letting that happen and always being upset in the end, so I try to avoid getting lost in my thoughts anymore.

What's your favorite thing to think about as you're falling asleep? Idk about you but thinking in general keeps my mind up and racing lol, so when I’m trying to sleep I do my best to black out my mind so that I can doze off.

Is there anything that you want to do, but won't because you're too afraid? So I went to college with this girl - I believe she’s several batches older - who, as soon as she graduated, set out on a hitchhiking journey across the world. She’s been doing it for four years, and I believe she has finally made it to Europe after being stuck in Kazakhstan for a year due to Covid. She’s amazing and her spirit is so fucking beautiful. She has a Facebook page that I actively follow detailing her experiences; but as great as her journey has been, I don’t know and I highly doubt that I can set out for such a demanding, commitment-heavy challenge myself.

Who was the last person to yell at you? My mom is the only person who does that, but she hasn’t done so in a while.

Who gets up the earliest in your household? The latest? My dad, since his work starts the earliest. I will sometimes hear the car engine purring by 5:45 AM. The latest would be my sister, since she stays up the latest as well. I think she’s up by 8 AM, but she doesn’t show up outside of her bedroom until 10 or 11.

Have you ever had a pet walk across your keyboard while you were typing? No, and I am glad that’s the case because both of my dogs are too big and I fear that they could actually snap my laptop in half.

What political issues do you think deserve less attention/worry? No political issue deserves any less attention than others. Political issues always mean that someone is on the losing end and I don’t think it’s fair to compare and decide which ones can be put on the backseat.

Anyway, I do believe it’s not so much the issues that should be compared, but the people in politics who are given the spotlight. Here in the Philippines especially, a lot of celebrities want to have their own political careers (and usually win a seat) despite their zero experience and the media gobbles that shit up all the time, which is disgusting. Related to this, I hope the media makes a consicous effort to wipe Trump out of the headlines once he’s out of office.

Which political issues are you most passionate about? I dunno if I can measure that since I’m pretty vocal about a lot of things. What I can tell you is that in the political issues I have a say in, I always side with the marginalized and the oppressed. IPs, POC, LGBTQ+, immigrants, factory workers, jeepney drivers, contractualized employees, activists, student-activists...my heart has always been with them and their cause.

You're going to your favorite foreign country; what landmarks do you go see? I’m not sure if I have a favorite country, but I’m very picky about landmarks in general anyway. I’d rather experience the local life and eat at smaller local places and go to lesser-known beaches and stuff.

What is the longest amount of time that you have spent away from your home? A little longer than a week, and this was usually when I traveled abroad.

Did the last movie you watched have any emotional effect on you? Yeah, so much so that I was unable to finish it and I had to show up at dinner while still fresh from crying.

What motivates you to go to school? Not applicable to me anymore, but I suppose this can be easily rephrased to mean work. Honestly, my main motivation is the desire to have a perfect record at work lol. I’m super neurotic about this and I hate the idea of being absent or late. Money comes second; I rarely buy stuff for myself so I mostly don’t even realize the money coming in to my account every two weeks. Then third is the desire to be good at my job because I do want to get promoted and rack up more positions as I go along.

How much caffeine have you consumed in one day? The most cups of coffee I’ve had in one day is 3, and that was not an enjoyable experience ha. Right now, I’m on my first cup of coffee.

Are you more hyper and up-tight, or laid back and relaxed? I guess it depends on the situation. I can definitely exhibit either, but my behavior will vary based on the people I’m with and/or how comfortable I am in a certain situation.

When was the last time you heard someone talking about you? Around a week ago. My parents were having dinner separately and I heard my name being mentioned in a few sentences.

How did you pick out your last outfit? I wanted an outfit that was chill and easy to carry around, but would still make me look like I put some effort into picking it out.

When buying shoes, what do you look for in the product? I admittedly like brand names, so that’s the first thing I look at. I also like to keep up with what’s trending, so I look at items in a brand’s catalog that I see more and more people wearing. If it matches with my own personal style, then I keep an eye on it/purchase it altogether.

What happened to cause the last mess you made? The last and current mess I have on me is my work desk, which I’ve since abandoned in favor of my bed + portable desk as my new workspace. Idk, over the Christmas break I just ended up stacking up so much shit on the desk until it became a little too cluttered. I’ve cleaned it up here and there to make the space look neater, but there’s still a lot of stuff.

Are you embarrassed to bring people into your bedroom? Not embarrassed; I just find it unnecessary. My bedroom is too small to host guests and the only times I’ve let someone in there is when I had a significant other. I prefer people to stay in the living room.

When was the last children's birthday party you attended? It was my third cousin Isabella’s 7th birthday party at a Jollibee. Her family has been living in Australia for a while, but I guess they wanted to host a party with their Filipino family so they flew back here to stay for a few days. Because she is my third cousin and because she’s been living in Australia all her life, I don’t actually have any sort of relationship with her lmao but I still made an effort to greet her and stuff.

Are you good at reading other people's body language? Yes, to the point that it contributes to my overall anxiety.

If you're sick, do you go to school or do you stay home [usually]? I rarely get a fever so when I do it feels like actual death. For that reason, I usually have to skip the day and focus on feeling better.

Does chicken noodle soup really make you feel any better? I never had it whenever I’ve felt like crap in the past. I don’t really like soup though, so on a personal level I doubt it would have any effect on me.

What is one meal that you like to eat whilst sick? I don’t have a go-to meal because again, I rarely get sick.

Think of the last survey you filled out; did you enjoy it? Sure, it was easy to digest and it’s the kind that you can take over and over again.

Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? I’ve fed bread, but to fish in the sea; not ducks or geese since idk if we have either here other than in zoos. In our trip to Mactan in 2010, I remember how we were allowed to pay a certain small amount to get bread from the resort and proceed to feed the fish swimming around in the beach.

Is it hard to imagine you were ever as small as a 1-2 year old? Yeah, I definitely feel that way sometimes.

What set the tone for your mood today? Eh, I wouldn’t say I had an overall mood today, honestly. It was a normal day at work, maybe a little more uneventful than other days; and I was on top of my tasks so there wasn’t anything to dread or worry about. I was just concentrated on getting the day over with and wasn’t strongly attached to any emotion.

Have you ever set out to ruin someone else's day? I don’t think so.

Have you ever felt like the whole world was against you? It happens sometimes.

The name of the last video game you played? Mario Kart 8 probably? It’s been a while but it’s all I play if I do play a video game, so it’s a safe guess.

The name of the last board game that you played? We whipped out my old box of Trivial Pursuit last November when we didn’t have electricity and internet because of the typhoon.

What was the last thing that you told yourself? I don’t remember the last time I talked to myself, but like two minutes ago I was starting to feel sad so I silently reminded myself to think of positive things.

How many times a day do you wash your face? At least once, in the morning before I start work. I’ve learned that cleaning myself up, even if it’s just splashing water on my face, super helps if I want to start working in a good mood.

Do you remember your D.A.R.E. officer's name? I didn’t have one of those, anddd I’m sure we didn’t have that program here.

Someone throws hot coffee on you; how do you react? It’s taken me a whole goddamn week to finish this survey, lels. Anywho... I think out of instinct I would scream out in extreme agony first? And I’d probably spend the first immediate seconds to try and process what just happened. I don’t know if I would fight back because I’m pretty sure the burns would be hurting too badly for me to focus on revenge.

Is there a high school or college that you would rather be attending? I attended one school from kindergarten to college, and I can’t imagine having attended anywhere else. I had one dream university and I ended up attending it.

Have you ever lived in an apartment or duplex home? Yes, both. My parents lived in an apartment for a few months when I was a newborn. From ages 2-10 I lived in my childhood home, which is actually a duplex. The other house belongs to my grandpa’s late sister and her family.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? Sure, but I care so little about my weight that they don’t really have an effect on me. The most common one I get is to “eat more.”

Where do you stand when it comes to sexual intercourse? Erm not really lmao. Just do it?? Idk. And just make sure consent is mutual and that you aren’t doing it out of pressure.

Name a show from the 90's that you miss? I guess ‘miss’ is the wrong word since I never watched it while it was ongoing, but I do love Friends. I’m excited to see what they have planned for the reunion episode.

Who provokes your sarcastic side the most? Bad co-workers, but luckily I haven’t had to pull that side of me in a while.

Have you ever thought about joining the military? Never.

When you were little, did you ever stare at disabled or "different" people? Being a kid, I probably did but never thought anything of it during those times. My mom certainly would’ve whooped my ass if I tried to comment anything mean or be a smartass.

Could the contents of your bedroom get you in any trouble? The one thing that would piss my mom off are my vape pens. I still have Gab-related stuff in my room that I’m too lazy to throw out, but I doubt I will get into trouble from those anymore because there has been no relationship to speak of in the last four months.

Do weather patterns sometimes have an effect on your health? Not on my health, but on my mood.

If it snows a lot where you live, do you experience cabin fever? It doesn’t, so idk what this would feel like.

When was the last time someone disapproved of something you were doing? Not entirely sure; this hasn’t happened in a while. Admittedly, as a people pleaser, I thrive on doing what people would want me to do lol.

How good are you at getting along with other people? On a scale of 1 to 10, probably a 9? I’m super nice to everyone and in the end it only really boils down to whether I have chemistry with them or not. If I fail to feel comfortable around someone I’m more likely to stay formal, but I do try to be lively and crack jokes with everyone as much as I can.

Do you consider yourself to be approachable? I want to be and I always try to come off as such, but my resting bitchface hurts that chance sometimes haha.

Do you know anyone that's a little emotionally unstable? Uhm, no one comes to mind.

Have you ever felt like you were going out of your mind? Yes.

Has anyone ever suggested that you might need "help"? I don’t recall being told this by anyone before. But with the way I broadcast my anxiety and sadness from time to time, I’m sure people have thought of it.

Do you take offense to things easily? Yeah you can say that. I’ve always been more sensitive than most.

How do you respond to cheesy pick-up lines? As with any pick-up line, I inwardly roll my eyes and move on.

Do you like to give people a taste of their own medicine? It’s such a waste of time and energy for the most part, so no. But if I feel petty, I have no problem doing it.

How was the service at the last restaurant you visited? It was...fine. Nothing to write home about. It was unlimited Korean barbecue and they actually had a system in place where they gave us a link to some internal website they kept, and we could simply order from there to minimize contact with the servers. I will say that I never got the kimchi jjigae I had ordered, but it was fine because I was full by then lmao.

Are you ever jealous of happy couples? No. I mean, I guess I’m reminded of my loneliness when I see couples in public, but I don’t get jealous or angry. I just shake it off and try to focus on myself.

Describe a thought that is sticking with you today? That I can’t wait for Friday.

Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? I’ve been thinking more of my anxieties than certain people, tbh.

In a car: air conditioning, or roll the windows down? Air conditioning. Though sometimes it’s nice to have the windows down, especially when I’m driving within my village or up a mountain.

When was the last time you did anything to your playlist? I made an angst-themed playlist over the weekend.

Is there a new song or band you've discovered? Massive Attack. Hayley Williams did a super great cover of their song Teardrop, so I checked out the original version which I also ended up enjoying. Olivia Rodrigo too, who I found out is part Filipino yay!

Which teacher gives you the most homework? My Journalism Ethics professor will probably rank the highest on this list.

What type of personality do you find most annoying? Idk, condescending ones maybe? There are a million kinds of personalities lol, but yeah I hate those who make you feel dumb, and feel good about doing so.

How did you hear about Bzoink? If my memory serves me correctly, my 10 year old self just wanted empty about me surveys to answer. Bzoink was always one of the first websites to come out if I searched for surveys on Google.

How long did it take you to sign up for an account - if you have one? I don’t think I ever made an account on there since I was too shy to share my answers.

Are you punctual? Yes, very.

Have you ever howled at the full moon? No.

Have you ever seen yourself on camera? Like if I’ve seen photos of myself??? I would be very surprised if anyone can say they haven’t.

Do you give any consideration to what's said in your horoscope? No.

When was the last time you felt like you were being followed? This has never happened before, thankfully.

#survey #surveys

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tsarinastorm · 5 years ago

Text

Stare Blankly- Adam Sackler/Reader- Part 1, Chapter 6

*This is a prequel to my upcoming fic, “Same World.” My work is also on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

You walk into your apartment and find Hannah sitting at the table on her laptop, with notes scattered everywhere and Marnie sitting down on the living room floor playing with Grover. Your dog River runs to see you, but then returns to befriend the baby. You say hi to all of them then go to your room to change into a more comfortable outfit. You unpack your takeout, and make plates for all three of you. You sit down on the couch with your plate, and you start to tell them about your run-in with Jessa, “I ran into Jessa today. She was fighting with some guy and couldn’t pay for her food.”

“Well that’s classic Jessa. She’s always a hot mess, she causes all of these problems not caring about anyone else’s feelings and then doesn’t know why everyone is mad at her.” Marnie says and Grover starts reaching for a toy. Hannah adds, “Yeah for someone who wanted to be a therapist, she’s not very self-aware. She starts fucking and dating my ex-boyfriend, doesn’t tell me, then is shocked when I didn’t tell her I was pregnant.”

“Do any of you talk to her anymore?” You can’t help but ask because adult friendships go through waves.

“No, I told her that I wasn’t mad at her anymore but she’s not my friend. I have no idea what her life is like and she doesn’t know mine.” Hannah says and you can tell that she’s not as over it as wants to sound. Marnie then shares, “She wasn’t even supposed to be there for brunch that day and that was the last I saw her or heard from her.”

“UGH! Fuck! This article is going to kill me.” Hannah yells as Marnie shushes her. Hannah’s picking up her notebook and is bent over her laptop again. You sit down across the table from her, and ask, “What’s your article about? I thought you were copyrighting?”

“I am, that’s my day job but I got this article freelancing. It’s supposed to be on Mothering conference I went to.”

“See that’s why I don’t do essays most of the time. It’s easier to write other people’s emotions than your own. What’s the problem? How was the Mothering conference?” You ask so you can help her get through her writer’s block or maybe give her a new angle for the piece.

“It was supposed to be ‘empowering’ but it was all about mothers feeling perfect all the time and didn’t talk about the struggles facing mothers every day. I’m a proud, and ‘empowered’ single mother and it is hard, it’s really fucking hard. I don’t know why they just didn’t talk about that. Like you be a great mom and still acknowledge it’s difficult. It was façade feminist: looks feminist on the outside but hollow on the inside.” Hannah says and sighs. She walks over and picks Grover up, he smiles up at her. You then realize that’s what Hannah should write about.

“Why don’t you write what you just said about the façade feminism? Explain why it felt that way to you. And you know talk about how great being a mother is, but also how difficult it is.” You say and she smiles and says, “Yes! That sounds like a great idea!”

Hannah sits down and starts typing at a rapid pace. You and Marnie put on a new show on Hulu while Grover naps peacefully.

*****************************************************************************

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it! I know you’re not a dramatist like me, but I think you’ll have fun!” Your friend, Kirsten says as she leads you through her party. You had met Kirsten in law school, and she was working for legal, but her real passion was theater. She was a terrific actress and had never been afraid to put herself out there. She had a larger than life personality that you had grown accustomed to. This was her birthday party but of course, she had a band playing and had a skit plan.

You’re catching up with Kirsten as Adam Sackler walks through the door. Attempting to avoid him, you head towards the restroom. Before you can make it too far, Kirsten pulls you back and says, “Y/N, this is my friend Adam, we’re in the same cabaret group.”

Adam looks at you awkwardly and you look at him awkwardly. “Oh I know Adam, I didn’t know you were in the same cabaret group.” You finally say, and then Kirsten moves close to Adam and clutches onto his arm. You know Kirsten well enough to recognize that move: she’s going to flirt with him to see if he’s interested. Not that it means she’s interested in him, she likes to play the game more than anything. You can tell that Adam isn’t sure what to do with attention so you smile as you watch the exchange. Kirsten eventually moves along, and Adam moves to stand next to you. When you make eye contact with him, you both burst out in laughter. Once the fit of laughter has settled down you suppress your next comment.

“Kirsten is one of a kind. She’s putting the moves on you.” You raise your eyebrows provocatively at him and he shrugs his shoulders in an innocent way back at you before replying.

“She’s great but not my type.”

“What is your type then?” You question because Kirsten is gorgeous, bubbly and certainly not dull. From his relationship history, you can’t determine what his type actually is.

“You.” He’s observing your reaction with his amber eyes that you feel are boring holes into you. The look on your face is that of pure astonishment. Then, you laugh uneasily because you’re both flattered and unsure how else to respond. A change in topic is much needed at this time.

“I never saw you as a cabaret guy.” You comment.

“Well this cab group is very innovative and challenging, plus I like the artistic vision. And it’s a good break from my day job.” He says and takes a drink of his seltzer water.

“What’s your day job now?”

“I’m working on this indie film by a Romanian couple which talks about immigration and family. Think a modern A View from the Bridge meets Cassavetes, if you know who he is.” Adam remarks and watches a dance group take to the middle of the floor.

“Yes, I know who Cassavetes is, he was a true visionary. Have you ever read his thoughts on method acting?” You ask. You loved some Cassavetes movies and enjoyed the class you took on him in undergrad. Adam seemed be intellectual and opinionated therefore you assumed he’d have some commentary.

“He has a point that if you mentally become the character then it’s” Kirsten interrupts Adam’s statement by grabbing his arm and yours, dragging you to the dance floor. Adam shows off his eccentric dance moves and you have nothing but respect for them as you throw a couple of your signature moves too. And this dance party goes on for hours.

***************************************************************************

Adam was walking home from Kirsten’s party with Y/N, who was tagging alongside him carrying her heels in her right hand. He was shocked when they walked out of the venue that she took off the shoes she was wearing and pulled a pair of rolled up flats out of her bag to put them on instead. After dancing for hours, the two headed home, choosing to walk together since they were going in the same direction. That’s when the conversation continued. Adam had just told Y/N about some of the stuff that he wrote, and she grabbed his arm, turning him to face her.

“Wait, you write too? Why have you never mentioned that before?” She says in an offended voice. He comes up with some rationale, “I don’t know, you never asked. I write about my life.”

Unable to think of any real reason for why never told her before, he tries to deflect. They begin walking again in order to not cause a pileup in the middle of the street.

“I bet your stuff is good. You’re very honest, which is rare anymore. Did you write the movie about you and Hannah?” She says as if she’s putting the dots together for the first time. Adam wonders how she knew about the film about his relationship with Hannah, and now he anxiously hopes she never watches it. He remembers that she’s roommates with Marnie, that’s probably how she knows about Disclosure. He shakes his head yes, choosing not to answer verbally. She stops at the corner since this is her street. Adam hopes he’ll see her again soon.

“Marnie and I are having this apartment warming thing this Friday, you should come.” She tells him and he responds with the obvious reaction, “I’d like that but are you sure I’d be welcome with all of them being there?”

“Yeah, Marnie is inviting who she wants to and I want to invite you.” Y/N says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Adam is still surprised so he says, “Wait, does this mean you like me?”

“I tolerate you and you tolerate me. Plus we have shared interests.” Adam smiles at her like an idiot as Y/N walks away down her street. He thinks that this is good. He can survive being around Hannah and Marnie if he gets to spend time with Y/N.

******************************************************************

The restaurant bustles around you as you wonder why you agreed to meet Jess for lunch. She had contacted you to invite you out as a way to thank you for helping her out. You ordered coffee and sipped as you waited. Mentally you determined that if Jessa didn’t arrive in exactly five minutes, then you would pay for your coffee and leave but then you see her outside smoking a cigarette.

“Okay so I married to this finance guy named Thomas-John who lived in Williamsburg,” Jessa says laughing, and you respond by saying, “And the fact that he had two first names and lived in Williamsburg wasn’t a red flag? Every guy I’ve ever met with two names has turned out to be a total douche. Not to mention, the people I’ve met from Williamsburg.”

“Well I was young and stupid.” Jessa says. The two of you ended up chatting once she did arrive, and you realized that you actually thought she was fun to be around. She might not be a “best friends” type of girl but you enjoyed being around her. She continues, “I like my lifestyle, I’ve lived it since I was five years old. But everyone else has moved forward and I feel like I’m in the exact same place.”

“What do you really want to do? There has to be a way to accomplish it, and you could always do it in a non-traditional way.” She thinks about what you said, and you wonder why you’re giving her life advice when she more than likely won’t listen to you at all. Jessa raises her eyebrows and finally answers, “I want to help people figure out their lives and their trauma. I thought I wanted to be a therapist but I’m not sure if going back to school is my thing.”

“You could be a life coach. Talk about your struggles and how you got through them. Help others in similar situations.” Honestly, you couldn’t imagine Jessa sticking to anything: she was too much of a bohemian free spirit. She started smiling and thanked you for the advice, she said that she’d work on starting that. For whatever reason, you decided to invite her to your apartment warming, and she said that she’d be there.

“But you should know that Hannah will be there, and Adam was invited too. I don’t know if that will be awkward for you.”

“Uh I can manage, I’ll see you then.” She gives a hug before you both leave to go your separate ways. You suddenly worry that inviting Jessa might prove to be a mistake.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam driver #hbo girls #girls hbo

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needdl · 5 years ago

Text

How to Baffle Your Genin

Neji-sensei was sort of a mysterious man.

Rated M for language. Also available on FFN and AO3.

“Shut up, Tomoe!” Akari yelled, furiously launching herself at her teammate and pummeling her over the head with both fists. Tomoe let out a growl and raised her arms in defense, and seconds later the two were scuffling on the ground wildly.

Behind them, a nervous-looking Higuma stepped out of the way and did his best to ignore them both, squinting his eyes at the houses lining the streets and trying to determine which was the specific one they were looking for.

“I think that’s it,” he told Akari and Tomoe, pointing at a moderately-sized house with neatly kept bushes. His teammates ignored him, pulling each others’ hair and swearing loudly.

“Hey!” He kicked some dirt at them. “Knock it off! We have to meet sensei.”

Tomoe gave him a mean look and stood up menacingly, taking half a step towards him. “Do we, freak?”

“Y-yes.”

“Leave him alone, Tomoe!” Akari stood up and dusted herself off. “Let’s just get this over with so we can all leave. What’re we doing again?”

“Choosing weapons.” Higuma muttered. He was the only one actually excited for it.

“Stupid.” Tomoe said derisively. “I can use a jutsu to fight. People who use weapons are weak.”

She gave Higuma a sneer. “So I guess that makes you the shittiest shinobi in Konoha.”

Higuma scowled back. “And what happens when you run out of chakra, dumbass? You get killed.”

“Ugh, both of you shut up.” Akari pushed past them and marched up the walk to the door. She rang the doorbell with decisiveness.

They waited for a while, shifting on their feet. Tomoe shoved Akari’s shoulder, just to be annoying, and had her foot stomped on in response.

“Should we ring the doorbell again?” Akari wondered. Higuma shrugged, and Tomoe just muttered, “Whatever,” which probably meant she thought it was a good idea. Akari rang the bell again, and this time they heard light movement in the house as someone approached the door. It opened.

“Hi sensei,” Akari and Higuma chorused, Akari very chipper and Higuma… not. Tomoe just grunted.

Their sensei inspected them slowly, pale eyes inscrutable. After a moment, he said, “Students,” and gave them a nod of acknowledgement.

His hair was messily braided with a pink ribbon bow on the end, but he was such an intimidating presence that none of them, not even Tomoe, commented on it.

He continued, “I realize you’re here to pick out your weapons, but I’m afraid my contact is running a little late. But she’s nearby, so we’ll be going to her.”

“Okay!” Akari said, very peppy. Higuma shrugged morosely, and Tomoe grunted again.

There was the sudden thumping of feet on tatami mats, and a little boy came careening around a corner to run to their sensei’s legs.

“Baba, I grabbed my kitty-cat-” He began, then suddenly noticed the three of them standing outside and instantly dove behind their sensei’s legs, peeking out at them with wide eyes.

“Good, Haruki-chan,” their sensei told him. “Is there anything else you want to bring?”

The boy ducked back behind his legs, his little hand clutching the fabric of their sensei’s tactical pants. “No,” he whispered.

“Then let’s go.” Their sensei stepped out of the house and they parted for him, swiveling back to look at the little boy. He stared at them, frozen in fear and clutching a little toy cat in his hand, then yelled, “Baba!” and ran after their sensei.

Their sensei, who had already mostly disappeared from sight along the corner of the house, waited a few moments for the boy to catch up, then continued on, calling behind him, “Close the door and follow.”

The three of them startled into movement- Akari and Higuma both reached to shut the door at the same time and wound up awkwardly closing it together, while Tomoe slouched her shoulders and skulked after their sensei and his kid.

They walked for a few blocks towards downtown Konoha, a few meters behind their sensei as his kid clutched his hand and gave them wide-eyed looks in between chattering to his father.

“I didn’t know sensei had a kid,” Higuma muttered.

“You don’t know it’s his,” Tomoe snarked back. “Maybe he’s watching it for someone else.”

“It called him ‘baba’, idiot.”

“Yeah, so? That’s what I called my grandma. The kid’s stupid.”

“Some immigrants in Konoha use it to address their fathers-” Akari chimed in, her tone edging into know-it-all territory. Both Tomoe and Higuma quickly cut her off; “Okay-” “Yeah yeah yeah we get it.”

Akari sniffed. “Whatever. Point is it’s probably sensei’s kid.”

The boy stopped dead in the street, whipped around to face them and yelled, “MY NAME IS HARUKI!”

They all stopped and stared at each other for a little. The three of them were very taken aback- and slightly guilty at being so easily eavesdropped upon by a toddler. Their sensei stopped too, and waited patiently until the little boy- Haruki, apparently- had enough and ran to hide behind him again.

He picked Haruki up and tucked him against his side, calling back to the genin, “Keep up.”

He jumped up to a rooftop and started darting away, leaping from one to the next at a pace they’d be hard-pressed to keep up with. Tomoe let out a loud swear and hurried after him, which sent Akari and Higuma flurrying into movement as well.

They caught up to him while he waited for them on a rooftop a few blocks down, talking to another shinobi.

“Holy fuck, who’s that?” Tomoe said incredulously. She was right to be shocked- the other shinobi was possibly the largest man any of them had ever seen, towering over their sensei and completely dwarfing the child in their sensei’s arms to the point of comedic proportions.

Oddly enough, the kid seemed all right with the man, talking cheerfully to him and showing him the toy he had while the man smiled pleasantly down at him. In fact, for all his fierce size, the man exuded friendliness.

The three of them approached cautiously, trying not to stare up at the man. He gave them another pleasant smile. “Hello! You must be Neji’s genin team!”

They nodded dumbly.

“Students,” Their sensei intoned, “This is Akimichi Choji, the leader of the Akimichi clan.”

They let out awkward hellos- or at least Akari and Higuma did, Tomoe just nodded- equally as awkward as her teammates, at least.

“See you next week, then,” Akimichi-sama told their sensei. “Bye-bye, Haruki!”

“Bye!” The kid yelled after him, as the man leapt- completely silently and with all the skill of a highly trained shinobi- from roof to roof until he faded from sight, which took a much longer amount of time than if the man had been of average size.

Their sensei strode to the edge of the roof and said, “Come,” before dropping out of sight. Akari let out a startled noise and raced over to the edge to look down, and surprisingly enough Tomoe was only a step behind her. They both peered over the edge, and Tomoe muttered, “Fuckin’ showboat.”

Higuma, perplexed, joined them, and gaped with Akari over the scene below. Their sensei was coaching his fucking toddler through chakra walking, holding both the kid’s hands in his own and walking backwards down the wall in front of him. The kid was wobbly but had clearly practiced it before, and could get in about three steps on his own before his control wavered and he fell forward against their sensei’s legs with much exaggerated oof-ing.

Their sensei wasn’t looking at them at all, his attention completely focused on the kid, but he was wearing the softest expression they’d ever seen on his face.

Suddenly he looked up at them staring, and they all jerked a little. Even after all this time, his gaze was… unsettling.

“I presume you are all standing there because you need me to walk you down as well, or else you would have done it on your own.” His dry tone was all the rebuke they needed, and they scrambled over the edge.

They made it to the bottom at about the same time the kid did, which was… somewhat embarrassing, but he’d had a head start.

The kid didn’t even say anything, just ran into the door of the storefront they had just walked down. The three of them watched him go in slight alarm, but their sensei seemed unbothered.

“Before we go in, have you given any thought to what type of weapon will be most useful to you?”

“Kusarigama,” said Akari immediately. Their sensei gave her a searching look, then turned to the others. “And you two?”

“I don’t know yet.” Higuma shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Maybe like a- a katana, or something.”

“I see. Tomoe?”

She scowled- not at their sensei, she was actually somewhat respectful to him- and muttered, “I don’t need a weapon.”

“Perhaps not,” their sensei acknowledged. They all stared at him, surprised to hear him admit such a thing. “But being proficient in some weaponry is a useful skill to have.”

He looked them all over again, and they unconsciously straightened up under his gaze.

“You should know that my contact won’t care about what weapons you think you should have, and will in all likelihood give you an entirely different one. She will hear your fighting techniques and match you to what will be best, and there is no use arguing with her about it. She is blunt and does not care what you think of her. Remember this before you cross her.”

Ominous, cryptic warning given, he turned and walked into the shop.

Even Tomoe hesitated a little before following.

---

The store was a weapons store, unsurprisingly, and the walls were lined with huge, antique weaponry with signs that read, ‘DISPLAY ONLY. NOT FOR SALE. DO NOT TOUCH. ALL WALL DISPLAYS ARE RIGGED. WE ARE NOT LIABLE FOR ANY INJURIES THAT OCCUR IF PIECES ARE TOUCHED, BECAUSE WE PUT UP THIS WARNING AND YOU TOUCHED IT ANYWAY, IDIOT.’

The more standard shinobi weapons were on racks and in display cases throughout the store. Higuma covertly looked at the blacksmith’s insignia on the kunai and found it matched the ones they were given at graduation- the store must have been the main supplier.

Most startling, there was a girl sitting behind the main counter, a stack of shuriken in front of her that she was sharpening and polishing with alarming expertise.

(Sure, she could be an Academy student- but they didn’t start any real weapons training until they were about eight, and nobody mastered it as well as this girl apparently had until they were genin at least.)

The girl spoke without looking up from her task, “Hello, welcome to-” She glanced up. “Oh, hi baba!”

“Hello, little bird. Is your mom around?”

“She’s in back taking inventory. But Haruki went to see her, so she probably got distracted.”

“Probably.” He turned back to the three of them, who were reeling at the revelation that their sensei apparently had not one, but two kids. “Go ahead and take a look around, but heed all the warning signs.”

The three of them slowly dispersed, and poked around as their sensei turned back to his daughter. “Your hair looks good, baba.”

“Thank you. I had an expert stylist.”

The girl giggled. Akari leaned over to Tomoe and whispered, “Was that a joke? Can sensei even make jokes?”

Tomoe poked at some senbon and shrugged.

Footsteps sounded from behind a doorway with a sign that said, ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’, and a few seconds later a woman pushed through the doorway carrying a crate of something metallic and clanky, judging by the noises. The kid from before followed close behind her, meowing and making his cat toy jump up and down her leg as she walked- which seemed like a safety hazard of some sort.

The woman was dressed in a manner somewhat foreign-looking, with a qipao of red and pale pink that had frog ties across the collar and her hair in two elaborately braided buns. Her eyes, when she looked at the three shifty-looking genin skulking around her store, were bright and warm, but also keenly calculating.

After a moment, she turned to look at their sensei. “Hi, honey!” She set the box down on the counter he was leaning on, then leaned up and kissed him.

The genins’ jaws hit the ground at the exact same time, the most synchronized they’d ever been. It was almost a shame that their sensei missed it- but he seemed rather busy kissing random women in weapon stores, surrounded by his secret children.

The woman pulled back and said, “Love the hair.”

“Thank you. Hui Na helped me with it this morning.” The girl at the counter giggled.

The woman turned to the genin again, and Higuma chewed his bottom lip nervously as she approached.

“So,” she said, “You three are Akari, Tomoe, and Higuma, respectively.” Her friendly smile broadened until it was too wide and they could see the feral bite to her words. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She stared at them for some very long seconds, her mouth still stretched in that too-wide smile and her eyes terrifyingly blank.

Higuma had a sinking feeling in his stomach. If she was as close to their sensei as all the- kissing indicated, then he had probably told her all the horrible details of their team practices, and how they couldn’t stop fighting long enough to do anything their sensei directed them to do.

“Well!” The woman chirped brightly, stepping away from them and clapping her hands together. It was as though a cool breeze had gone through the room, and suddenly the three genin felt like they could breathe again. “Let’s find you some weapons!”

Tomoe made a very quiet, derisive noise. The woman smiled at her, all warm brown eyes and bright sunshine. “Hm?”

“We don’t even know who you are,” Tomoe pointed out. Akari and Higuma exchanged a look, silently agreeing.

“You don’t- Neji, did you tell them anything?”

Their sensei looked up from where he was playing dolls with his toddler, using a shuriken as a stand in for another cat toy. “I told them we’d be picking weapons.”

She tch-ed. “You’re hopeless.” She turned back to the students, tassel earrings swinging against her neck. “I’m Tenten, the Weapons Mistress of Konoha. How nice to meet you. Now do everything I say.”

---

Akari went first. “I want a kusarigama!”

“Hmm…” The Weapons Mistress cocked her hip out and stroked her chin in thought. “What’s your main attack?”

“Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

“And how’s your taijutsu?”

“It’s… well, it’s fine for my level.”

“Mhm.” The Weapons Mistress thought on it for a moment, then declared, “No kusarigama. I’m giving you tessen.”

“What?”

“The last thing you need is a long-distance weapon if your main skill is Gōkakyū no Jutsu. Tessen will make you balance out your skills more in taijutsu and give you something to fall back on if you ever run out of chakra.”

“But… a kusarigama.”

“A flashy weapon that is far beyond your skill level.”

Akari pulled a face. “That’s the point of training!”

“You don’t have the base skills yet,” The Weapons Mistress told her frankly. “Once you’ve mastered tessen, then maybe you can persuade me to let you try out a kusarigama.”

“...Don’t think I won’t.”

The Weapons Mistress grinned. “I hope you do. Here-” She crossed to a corner of the store and pulled twin tessen off the wall and weighed them in her hands for a few moments, then handed them to Akari. “Try those. Start with them closed, using them with the same movements as defensive kunai while you adjust to the weight. Do that for a month-”

“A month?”

“Yes. Do that for a month and then come back to me so I can teach you more.”

“A… month…” Akari thoughtfully hefted the tessen in her hands for a few moments, then shifted her grip so she was holding them towards the ends. “Is this how I hold them?”

“Yes. Good instinct.”

Akari looked pleased at the praise. “Fine, I’ll use them.”

“How nice.” The Weapons Mistress smirked at her for a moment, seemingly amused. “There’s a training yard out back if you’d like to go give it a shot now, or you can wait-”

Akari was already walking out the door. “Good luck guys see you later-” The bell tingled as the door opened, then again as it slammed shut.

In the silence that followed, the two remaining genin stared blankly after their teammate. The little boy, still sitting on the counter and playing cat-and-shuriken with their sensei, said, “Hey mama?”

The Weapon Mistress turned to look at him, her eyes softening. “Mmhm?”

He held up his toy. “Did you see my kitty-cat?”

“I did.”

“Oh.” He turned back to their sensei and said “Baba?”

“Yes?”

“Did you see my kitty-cat?”

Their sensei just stared at the kid for a few seconds, and the toddler started to giggle. Finally, he said, “No, Haruki-chan. I did not see your cat.”

The kid let out a sharp burst of laughter. “Yes you did!”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Their sensei leaned forward and folded his arms on the countertop, pressing his forehead against the kid’s and smiling down at him.

“Yeah!”

“How rude.”

Over the sound of the wildly giggling kid asking the girl if she had seen the kitty-cat, the Weapons Mistress turned to the genin again, who were now reeling over the fact that their sensei apparently had at least one kid with the Weapons Mistress of Konoha.

(It seemed like the girl was probably hers too, but no confirmation yet.)

The woman’s gaze settled on Higuma. “And you? What kind of weapon did you have in mind?”

“It- uh, uh, uh-” Higuma rapidly spiralled into panic. He was fine when she was addressing them as a group, but the second she actually fixed her attention on him he felt like he was going to barf. Finally he squeaked out, “Sword?”

She tilted her head. “What kind of sword?”

“... a… pointy… one?”

Her brow pinched. “Uh-huh.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Higuma was almost positive the girl at the counter was laughing at him.

“What’s your main ninjutsu?” The Weapons Mistress finally asked.

“Erm, I use genjutsu, mostly. I’m not great at ninjutsu. Or- or taijutsu. Or genjutsu, really, but I’m better at that than the other ones.”

“What do you think your problem is with ninjutsu?”

Higuma inwardly balked. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take this sort of turn.

“It’s, well-” He struggled to find the words, looking anywhere but at her. His gaze landed on his sensei, watching him calmly as his kid(s?) played together.

His sensei, after a moment of looking steadily into his eyes, inclined his head slightly, a ‘go on’ sort of gesture.

Feeling desperate, he blurted, “Hasn’t sensei told you anything?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to hear what you have to say about it.”

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. He shifted on his feet, feeling sweaty and upset as the silence grew larger and heavier.

The Weapons Mistress cleared her throat, just a hint of impatience bleeding into her expression.

“I overthink it. I start to worry about amounts of chakra and how to control it and how to make the jutsu do what I want and then I panic and it all goes wrong.” He blurted, then gasped for air.

She considered it for a moment. “How’s your chakra control?”

“Fine, except when I have to do any real jutsu and then I panic.”

“I see. It seems to me that you might benefit from something that forces you to use chakra more.”

That was the opposite of what he wanted. “Okay.”

“I can tell you’re not happy with it, but you’re choking those feelings down like a champ. Here-” she grabbed a short sword-thing off of a display. “Standard chakra blade. Start by using it as a stand-alone blade, and work separately at channeling chakra through it. You’ll be able to tell when you’re getting better at it based on how it feels.”

“Uh… okay.”

“Good. Go practice.”

Obediently, Higuma took the blade and headed to the practice yard. Akari was doing katas with her new tessen, wielding one with a great more ease than the other- she never did like using her non-dominant hand with weapons.

She spun to face him and held up a closed tessen to his throat. He blinked, alarmed.

“What’dya get?” she chirped.

He held up his weapon. “Chakra blade.”

“You suck at using chakra.”

“I know. She said it’d help me balance it out more.”

“Huh. Well, she’d probably know.”

“Yeah. Hey, guess what?”

“No. Just tell me.”

He sighed. “That ruins the whole premise, Akari.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to argue with me about this? You’re the one who has something to tell me.”

“It’s some pretty mind-blowing information, so it’s really your loss.”

“That’s fine.” She swivelled away again, doing some more katas and looking completely unbothered. After a few seconds she yelled, “OH!” and spun back, jabbing the tessen excitedly in his face. “Let’s spar! Me and my tessen versus your chakra blade.”

He absolutely did not want to do that, but the only way he could think to get out of it was to blurt, “Those kids in there are sensei’s and the Weapons Mistress’s.”

“What?” Akari’s tessen fell from her hand and hit the ground with a dull clang, but she didn’t even seem to register it. “Sensei and the Weapons Mistress?”

“Yeah. I mean she did kiss him when she came in, remember? But I guess I didn’t make the connection until the little kid called her ‘mama.’”

“Holy fuck.” Akari blinked at him for a few moments, before her face turned thoughtful. “Well, I can see it now that I look back on it. The girl sharpening the shuriken did look a lot like the woman, but she had eyes like sensei’s, did you notice?” He hadn’t. “Plus it explains why the kid was so excited to see her, and so comfortable with her.

“I mean, I knew sensei is married, but-”

That was news to him. “Wait, really? They’re married? No, not even that, sensei is married?”

“YES!” Akari scooped up her dropped tessen and gestured with it wildly in irritation. “I keep telling you both that he’s actually a super well-known, super powerful shinobi in Konoha and it’s really easy to find information about him, but you guys never listen to me! I’m not even from a shinobi family like you two are, how come you don’t know this?!”

Higuma was still digesting the information that his sensei had a wife. “He’s… married… weird...”

“Okay, whatever. Let’s spar.”

“No, wait, I don’t want-”

“ThreetwooneGO!” She leapt at him, tessens flashing, and he hastily yanked his new chakra blade up in front of him to parry her attack.

She continued striking at him, with much twirling and theatrics, and he stayed on the defensive, trying to use the blade the way that he’d been advised. His hand wasn’t used to the weight, and it wasn’t long before his grip began to tire.

Akari knocked the blade out of his hand with a loud “HA!” and a flourish of her tessen, snapping the other one open and fanning herself with it dramatically as she smirked at him.

It occurred to him then that the Weapons Mistress really had known what she was doing, because Akari had a flair for the dramatic and the tessen were just flashy enough to keep her interested.

“Yield,” he sighed to his teammate, and she grinned, smug.

There was a clattering from the alleyway leading into the sparring yard, and suddenly Tomoe came storming in, looking stone-cold furious. Behind her was the Weapons Mistress, juggling a few kunai in her hand and looking bleakly cheerful.

Their sensei was a few steps behind, and his approach was best described as… cautious. A chill went down Higuma’s spine.

Tomoe spun around to face the Weapons Mistress. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t need a weapon.”

“Then prove it,” she fired back. Her grin was maniacal. “If you don’t need a weapon, that must mean you think that if you run out of chakra, you’ll be able to fend for yourself with taijutsu, right?”

Tomoe snarled wordlessly.

“You attack me as much as you want. I’ll defeat you with this senbon and nothing else.” She held up the senbon between two fingers, and it glinted in the low lighting.

“Tenten,” their sensei called abruptly. “Disarm yourself completely.”

The woman huffed, but started to comply, tucking the senbon into her hair and removing the bracelets around her wrists that the genin were suddenly realizing were actually summoning scrolls, then taking off the kunai holster from around her fishnet-clad thigh in such a sinuous and purposeful manner that it had both Akari and Higuma flushing a little.

But if they thought that was bad, then what she did next was even worse, which was to snap open the ties of her dress and pull out two sai and a handful of shuriken from her… ahem.

She flicked them over her shoulder and they embedded themselves in the tree their sensei was sitting against, coming very close to slicing his skin. He said nothing, but the look he gave the Weapons Mistress was scorching, although the exact nature of it- whether it was in anger or in some other, more debaucherous emotion- wasn’t clear.

“There,” she said at last, uncoiling an honest-to-god chain from around her waist, which had been concealed under her belt (that apparently acted as another scroll container when needed) and setting it on the ground. “Senbon only.”

“Your boots,” their sensei called.

She cursed under her breath and pulled three slender knives from the sole of each boot, then a small jian from each calf. “Is that good enough for you?”

“What about the karambit in your hair?”

“What about your hair, Neji?” She fired back, reaching her hands up and tugging at the strands to her buns.

“What’s to discuss? It looks very fashionable.”

“Yeah, to a nine-year-old.” The woman pulled a curved blade from her hair and flicked it over to rest at their sensei’s feet.

“If you are insinuating that Hui Na did this to be fashionable, you are sorely mistaken. She was trying to embarrass me.”

“Well you’re really rolling with it, so the joke's on her, I guess.” The woman grinned.

“Precisely.”

Tomoe had been standing with her fists curled tightly, her aura darkening as the woman seemed to take her so glibly. “Are we fighting or not?”

“Oh, of course,” the Weapons Mistress pivoted smoothly to face her, senbon glinting obviously in hand. “Ready when you are.”

Tomoe charged her, one hand ready with her Crystal Release. The woman’s hand flicked out in an idle motion, and seconds later an entire branch from a tree fell down, almost on top of Tomoe. She barely managed to dodge out of the way.

The genin all gaped. The Weapons Mistress twitched her finger, and Tomoe threw herself to the ground as a sharp whistling noise filled the air and a streak of silver, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding air, whistled past the spot her head had been.

The Weapons Mistress raised a casual hand and snatched the senbon from the air.

Tomoe mustered herself again and spread her legs apart, ready to charge at a moment’s notice. Her hands flickered through their positions, and she braced herself and yelled, “Crystal-”

Another twitch of the finger, and the blur of silver was darting away again, this time to slice against the dip between Tomoe’s index and middle fingers.

It was a painful, distracting wound, and Higuma winced in sympathy as Tomoe jerked her hand into a fist with a curse, blood welling up and running over the back of her hand. She didn’t let it deter her for long, however, gritting her teeth and beginning the motions of her hand seal again.

She was stopped once more as the senbon went darting away again, headed for Tomoe’s arms. It stuck deep into her bicep and stayed there.

Tomoe let out a grunt of pain, trying futilely to yank the senbon out as blood darkened her sleeve and slicked up her fingers.

Higuma tore his eyes away from the mildly disturbing sight of his teammate’s struggles to look at the Weapons Mistress. She was standing silhouetted by the setting sun, resting her weight on her heels with her arms folded across her chest, back ramrod straight. For the first time, she was standing completely upright, not cocking her hips out to the side, not tilting her head, not leaning over to rifle through bins and shelves of weapons.

She was taller than Higuma had realized.

Finally seeming to decide the senbon wasn’t worth it, Tomoe stopped pulling at it and charged straight for the Weapons Mistress, hands flicking in her seal and finally yelling, “Growing Crystal Thorns!”

One of her mysterious crystal structures began to form and leapt towards the Weapons Mistress- but stopped abruptly as Tomoe staggered to a kneeling position, gasping for breath.

Higuma and Akari both took a lurching half-step towards their teammate before remembering she was in the middle of a spar and stepping back. Akari chewed her thumbnail nervously.

Tomoe stared up at the Weapons Mistress, her eyes glazed, then shoved herself back to her feet and stumbled towards her again. She got three more steps in before sinking down again, chest heaving as she crumpled onto the ground.

The Weapons Mistress walked over to her small form and pulled the senbon out of Tomoe’s bicep, wiping it on a small cloth before tucking it out of sight within her hair. She glanced over at their sensei.

“Pass me my right wrist scroll?” She caught the scroll as their sensei tossed it to her and unsealed a small vial from it, then injected some of the contents into Tomoe’s other arm. Then she hoisted the genin over one shoulder and stood, fixed her eyes on Higuma, and said, “Run down to the Yamanaka flower shop and get the blonde woman working there- Ino. Tell her that Tenten wants her to swing by the shop to monitor the effects of her Beta strain.”

Higuma blinked, stuttered, “Yamanaka flowers, Ino, Tenten weapons shop, Beta strain.”

“Correct. Come on back once you’ve delivered the message.”

Higuma nodded, and dashed away.

---

Akari watched with wide eyes as the Weapons Mistress (Neji-sensei’s wife, probably) carried an unconscious Tomoe back into the shop through the back door, laying her down on a small table before moving out of sight in the doorway.

Neji-sensei, meanwhile, had picked up the various weapons the woman had removed and was starting towards the shop himself. “You can come in too if you wish, Akari.”

She followed him in, clutching her tessen- which she already loved, even if they weren’t what she was expecting to get- and peering around nosily at the back of the store. It was slightly smaller than the front part, with crates on shelves containing common shinobi weapons, and another section leading further down to the left with a sign saying “SPECIALIZED.” There was a door directly to the right that read “SMITHY”, and another door at the edge of the room that was unlabeled, but presumably led to the front of the shop.

Tomoe, on the table- which was greasy with oil and who-knows-what from all the weapon-ing that occurred in the shop- twitched slightly, her eyes fluttering. As far as Akari could tell, she’d been knocked out with some sedative, and probably an unusual one because Tomoe was weirdly immune to the common ones they’d learned about in the academy.

(To be fair, a lot of senior chunin and most jonin were immune to the common tranquilizers, but that was a combination of specific training against them and the build up of the body’s natural defense after being poisoned with them enough times. But Tomoe was a genin and barely batted an eye the day they’d all been tripped with the slightest amounts to make them understand and identify the effects.)

Tomoe opened her eyes fully and glared at Akari. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered, then passed out again.

Presumably, she wasn’t referring to Akari as the son or the bitch in that phrase, but Akari sniffed and put on an offended face anyway. After a moment, she glanced over at the Weapons Mistress and Neji-sensei, who had given the woman back her weapons and was now standing close to her, tilting his head down to look at her as they spoke quietly. Feeling a little awkward, Akari looked at Tomoe again. She had drool running down the side of her mouth.

After their conversation, the woman turned and walked briskly out the door to the main part of the shop. Neji-sensei turned to Akari.

“Tomoe will be fine after a few minutes, and we’re having a poison and antidote specialist come along to monitor her progress just in case. Would you like anything to eat?”

“Uh, um, no thank you.”

“Very well. Stay here with her for a moment, please.” He followed after the Weapons Mistress.

Akari lingered awkwardly by Tomoe’s side for a few moments before reaching out to poke her. She didn’t respond.

Instantly bored, Akari started looking around the room in earnest, now that she was unsupervised. There was a large whiteboard on one wall that had order forms pinned to it, organized into sections presumably based on their status of completion. There was a calendar just next to it with bright red notes scrawled on certain dates- some of them were the dates for order pick-ups, but there was one written in bold handwriting that said “HUI NA’S BIRTHDAY ♥️♥️♥️”- whoever that was.

Akari’s wandering attention led her to the specialized weaponry section, and she peered nosily up at a few of the more intricate pieces- they were very interesting and shiny.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and Akari thought wildly for a moment about rushing over to her teammate’s side to pretend she wasn’t snooping- but then she decided she didn’t care, and just turned to look at who came through the door.

It was the girl from earlier, struggling a little with the weapons from earlier all loaded into one crate. She met Akari’s gaze with a polite smile and said, “Do you mind helping me put these away?”

“Sure.” Akari crossed to the door and grabbed the other side of the crate, then they hefted it over to the common weapons shelf and started filing them into place.

“I’m Akari, by the way.” She told the girl cheerfully, running her thumb over the edge of a kunai that had a chip out of it.

“Oh, I-! I, um, already know. Hui Na,” the girl introduced herself. She smiled a little shyly up at her, and Akari felt her own smile widen- she was cute.

“Are you in the Academy, Hui Na-chan?” The girl immediately flushed at being addressed in such a way, but her smile remained genuine.

“Yes. I’ll graduate in three years.”

“Cool! What kind of jutsu do you like to do?” She didn’t ask wha jutsu Hui Na was good at- experience had led her to ask about people’s interests, rather than their skills, because usually it made them like her more. If people wanted to brag, they would. And if they were like Higuma, they’d talk about how cool Nara-senpai was instead of talking about themselves at all.

(Which was so stupid- Higuma wasn’t cool, obviously, but he was smart and funny in a sarcastic and somewhat macarbe way. He needed to be more confident in what he did.)

“I’m pretty good at the Hyuga Clan jutsu- at least the ones I’ve been allowed to learn- and I really like using nunchucks, like Lee-ojisan.”

“Wow, I bet you’re really good with them if your mom’s the Weapons Mistress!” It was a bit of a gamble, to assume that she was, in fact, Neji-sensei’s and the Weapons Mistress’ daughter, but it paid off when the younger girl smiled in delight, her serious expression changing completely.

“Well,” she giggled a little, “Really, mom gets a little bored with nunchucks, since she mastered them ages ago- she likes swords a lot, though, and she’s been trying to collect all the legendary swords of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist for years now.”

“Huh! Any luck?”

“Of course not- most of them are in Kirigakure, and it’s not like they’re going to give them up. But mom’s really stubborn and everytime Baba tries to point out that she won’t get them, she gets all pouty.”

Akari snorted at the image of Neji-sensei trying to placate his wife. Seems like he had a little practice before he had to deal with two sulky genin- not her, of course, she was a star pupil.

Thinking about her teammates made her remember Tomoe, still lying prone on the table, and she turned to look. Yep, unconscious.

“So what’d she stick Tomoe with, then? She’s immune to a lot of stuff, so it’s pretty impressive that it worked so fast and so well.”

“I’m not sure. She and my auntie Ino develop and test new poisons together, so it could be a lot of things. But mom wouldn’t have used anything that would hurt her.”

Hui Na put the last kunai into place with a little clink, then stood back up. Akari grinned at the still-shy look she gave her from behind her hair.

Aw, sensei’s daughter is so CUTE!

There were voices sounding down the hall- two women, from the sounds of it. The Weapons Mistress came in first, looking moody, and a few paces behind her was the head of T&I, poison expert, special jounin, goddamn leader of the Yamanaka Clan, Ino Yamanaka.

Wait- Hui Na had called her auntie Ino- was she that close to her?

Akari’s head was spinning with new information- sensei was married to and had kids with the Weapons Mistress of Konoha, was friends with the leader of the Akimichi clan, and his kids considered the head of freaking Torture and Interrogation as an aunt.

Yamanaka-sama gave Akari an appraising look with a friendly smile, which broadened into a beam when she looked at Hui Na. “Hey sweetie!”

“Hi, auntie.” Hui Na’s tone remained as steady and calm as ever, but she bounced up and down on her feet a few times in excitement.

Yamanaka smiled at her a few seconds longer before turning to Tomoe. “Seriously, Tenten, you just left her back here…?”

The Weapons Mistress muttered churlishly in reply, too soft to be heard, and the two women descended into quiet conversation. After a moment, the Weapons Mistress turned to Akari and Hui Na, watching mutely, and said, “Why don’t the two of you head up front? Higuma is there, probably dying of awkwardness as your dad tries to prove how wise a sensei he is.”

Hui Na laughed- and Akari couldn’t get over how much her expression changed, from quiet seriousness to pure joy- and told her mother, “All right. Good luck, auntie!”

“Thanks, baby. I’ll see you for your lessons tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Hui Na bobbed up and down one more time, then turned and obediently trotted out the door. Akari gave a little wave to the women and followed her.

The hallway was quite short, leading past one other tiny room filled with weaponry before reaching the storefront. Just as the Weapons Mistress had predicted, Neji-sensei was looking as serious as ever as he spoke quietly and intensely to Higuma, who fiddled listlessly with his new chakra knife while looking generally miserable.

Haruki-chan was sitting on the floor with his little feet turned out, playing with his cat figurine. When the two girls came in, he gave Hui Na a delighted grin but kept playing.

Neji-sensei paused in his conversation with Higuma. “How’s Tomoe?”

“Auntie Ino didn’t say,” Hui Na said, crossing to where he stood at the counter and plopping down in the seat. She tucked herself against his side, and he reached up and ran his hand over her head.

Akari turned away, feeling slightly uncomfortable to be privy to the private moment, and her gaze met that of Higuma. “Hi, Higuma.”

“Hi,” he said glumly. She scowled at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“If I knew that, then-”

“Ugh. Shut up, Higuma. You’re a perfectly decent shinobi but your attitude makes me tired.”

He sputtered, finally looking a little more fiery, and she nodded once in satisfaction. She swiveled to her sensei and chirped, “Anything else for us to do, Neji-sensei?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully, and she realized too late that they were doomed.

---

Tomoe woke up and immediately shot a fist up in the air to punch the face staring down at her.

The face cursed, startled, but swatted her hand away with ease. Then it said, “Tomoe-san. So glad you’re up.”

Tomoe rocked up to a sitting position, glaring at the face- which turned out to be Hyuga-sensei’s wife. The psychopath.

It was all the worse that the woman had defeated her so thoroughly, in such a fuckin’ awesome way. Now her rage was mixed with deep respect, which was way too confusing.

She fixed her glare to the other woman in the room, who was blindingly blonde and statuesque. She gave Tomoe a smile that was nothing short of dazzling and said, “Oh, goodie! The strain lasted just as long as it was supposed to for your body weight. I think we’re ready for the next phase of testing.” All of which was said like Tomoe was supposed to understand it.

Instead, she just scowled and took a look at her surroundings- the back of the store, it looked like, with shelves of weapons all the way up to the ceiling. It smelled like fireworks- and when she saw the sign that read “SMITHY”, it made sense.

She turned to Tenten. “Do you make all the weapons yourself?”

“Not always. I import stuff like kunai and senbon, then just refine them and add my insignia. The special orders I usually forge myself.”

Tomoe watched her for a moment more, then grunted and looked away again. She refused to like the woman, even if she seemed smart and interesting.

“Where’s Hyuga-sensei and the genin?”

There was a pause, and the Tenten said, in a carefully controlled voice, “You know you’re a genin too.” Tomoe looked over at her, brow pursed at her tone of voice, and scowled when she saw the woman fighting back laughter.

“I’m above their level. Where are they?”

“Out front in the shop,” the blonde woman said. She reached out, and before Tomoe could snap at her, injected her with something. Tomoe snarled, hackles raising, and the blonde told her “That’ll help fight any residual nausea and dizziness. You’ll be back to normal within an hour.”

Tomoe glowered. “I’m leaving.” She swung her legs over the bench and trudged to the door that must’ve led to the shop front, pointedly not looking back at either woman.

The door didn’t even slam behind her. Damn it all.

She opened the door to the storefront with a loud bang that made her feel a little better, then stopped short at the sight of Higuma, Akari, and Hyuga-sensei’s daughter busily polishing all the weapons on the shelves. For his part, Hyuga-sensei was reading quietly while his son fell asleep in the crook of his arm.

Everyone (except the sleeping toddler) turned to look at her when she came in. Embarrassed, she snapped, “What?”

Akari rolled her eyes and turned away, Higuma made a face like she was being unreasonable, and Hyuga-sensei’s kid twitched her shoulders and pinched up her entire face before jerking around to face her work again.

When Tomoe turned to look at her sensei, he was watching his daughter with a blank expression on his face that didn’t change one bit when his gaze met Tomoe’s, but still somehow became terrifyingly oppressive.

She actually sighed in relief when he looked away again. He stood, hoisting the kid in his arms, and said, “Hui Na, come here for a moment.”

The girl put aside her rag and followed him into the back hallway. Akari and Higuma instantly whipped around to face her, both pale, and Akari hissed, “What-did-you-do-”

“Nothing!” She scream-whispered back.

“Clearly you did something, I’ve NEVER seen sensei like that-”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP LET’S JUST FINISH CLEANING ALL THE WEAPONS OFF FOR HIS WIFE AND THEN MAYBE WE CAN LEAVE WITHOUT HIM KILLING US.” Higuma, somehow, came through as the voice of reason, and after scowling at each other for a few seconds more Tomoe and Akari began working again.

They worked in silence for ten minutes before Hyuga-sensei came back into the room. He gave them all a slight smile and said, “That should be sufficient, thank you. Shall we go to lunch? I will pay for it-”

Akari didn’t even let him finish his offer before she threw her arms up in the air with a gleeful “YES!” Her polishing rag smacked into the ceiling, clung for a bit, then came back down. She snatched it out of the air with a sheepish look.

They all ignored her, quite used to the theatrics, and Higuma nodded to Hyuga-sensei’s offer.

“Tennie, we’re going to lunch,” Hyuga-sensei called back to his wife.

“Don’t call me that!” She hollered back. She sounded a little flustered, and they all gaped, incredulous, as Hyuga-sensei grinned to himself- outright grinned.

Fucking Akari let out a little sigh, like she was swooning, and that snapped Tomoe out of it pretty quick. She didn’t need to hear the dumbass mooning over Hyuga-sensei’s good looks again- because she didn’t fucking care about his dimple and never fucking WOULD, Akari.

Their sensei looked back at the door. “Ino, would you like to walk with us?”

“Sure!” She yelled back. “Just a minute!”

They waited in silence for a bit, then suddenly the door rocketed open and Hyuga-sensei’s son bawled out, “BABA, I WANT TO COME TOOOOOOO!”

He looked like he was on the verge of tears, and all the genin immediately took a step back from him.

Hyuga-sensei’s expression went all soft again, and he said gently, “That’s fine, Haruki-chan, but weren’t you going to help your mama in the store?”

The kid thought hard for a second, then said, “I want to go too more than I want to stay here today.”

Tomoe squinted her eyes at him, trying to decipher his complicated toddler nonsense-speak. Hyuga-sensei just smiled and held out his hand.

The kid booked it over, seizing his father’s hand and chattering happily.“Tell mama,” Hyuga-sensei told him softly.

“MAMA!”

“WHAT?”

“I’M GOIN’ WITH BABA TO EAAAAAAAT!”

“OKAY! HAVE FUN LOVE BUG!”

“OKAY!”

Silence for a few blessed moments, then another voice. “Waaaait, Baba!”

“Yes?” Thank fuck, Hyuga-sensei and his other kid seemed to be less of the hollering type, and more of the ‘speak at the exact volume needed to be heard’ type.

“Can I come too?”

“Of course, little bird.”

"WAIIIT, THEN WHO WILL SPEND TIME WITH ME IN THE STOOOOORE?" The Weapons Mistress again.

“MEEEEE!”

“PISS OFF, INO!”

There was some raucous cackling, then the blonde woman came through the door, still laughing. The kid followed a few steps behind, smiling down at the ground.

“BYE, TENNIE!” Blondie bellowed.

“SHUT UP!”

“Bye, Tennie,” their sensei echoed.

“I- don’t call me that!” Her tone had gone from annoyed to flustered again, and Tomoe rolled her eyes. What, like her husband was all that? Seriously.

“Y’all cute,” Blondie told Hyuga-sensei.

“Thank you.”

The door opened- again, fucking hell- and Tenten came in, looking sulky. “If no one is staying, then I’m going to lunch too.”

“Yay!” The toddler shrieked.

This was the worst day of Tomoe’s life.

Wordlessly she pushed out the door and started walking towards Ichiraku’s, not even really caring if they followed her or not. She had money.

To her (expertly hidden) surprise, Higuma caught up to her a few seconds later, walking in silence at her side as the flock of people behind them loudly and chaotically got themselves sorted out. He looked glum, but she couldn’t be fucked about it.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He eyed her nervously. “What?”

“What’s wrong with you, dipshit?”

“Nothin’.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and ignored him again.

Behind them, Tenten had put her hysterically laughing toddler on her shoulders and was playfully biting at his legs. What the fuck.

The girl was listening intently to Akari as she talked her head off- seriously, she didn’t know how the kid did it, because Akari was the most annoying person in the world and she was staring up at her like she was made of gold.

Hyuga-sensei and Blondie were walking side by side at the back of the herd, talking. The woman was ridiculously tall, with a good couple centimeters on their sensei- who was by no means a short man. This was a weird day.

She got to Ichiraku’s and settled into a chair. Higuma sat next to her, which was irritating, and Akari sat on his other side. Hyuga-sensei sat next to Tomoe, and his wife ushered the two kids into the seats on his other side, with her on the end.

Blondie just yelled goodbye as she kept walking, then said something that stopped the genin in their tracks.

“Oh, hey, Naruto! Playing hooky again?”

“Hi Ino!” The fucking Hokage was genuinely bouncing in his seat to see the woman. “Aw man, and Neji and Tenten too! Lucky timing for me!”

“Hello, Naruto,” their sensei said in a measured tone. Tenten just waved distractedly at him as she tried to settle the toddler in the seat, because the kid was basically trying to run across the counter to get to-

“Naruto-ojisan! Hi, hi, hi!”

“Sit down, love bug!”

“Mama, it’s Naruto-ojisan! HI!”

“I know, sweetling. But we gotta sit to eat, okay?”

“Okay,” the kid said, looking terribly sad.

The Hokage had been talking to Blondie, but she departed with a slap on his back and he turned to face them all.

“HARUKI-CHAN! How’s it going, buddy?”

“GOOD!” The kid launched to his feet again and went off talking a mile a minute, and the Hokage seemed entirely engrossed- except for when he gave Hyuga-sensei’s daughter a huge grin and a hair ruffle when she wordlessly went over to sit down next to him.

When Tomoe was able to turn away from the golden, radiant presence and tune back into her other surroundings, Hyuga-sensei had already ordered all of their usual food and was watching over them with an amused smile tugging at his mouth.

“Naruto is a long-time friend,” he told them quietly.

“And cousin-in-law, honey,” his wife called to him, a glitter in her eyes.

He sighed, looking a little more annoyed. “...That too.”

“What the fuck, sensei.”

Tomoe had been thinking those very words so intensely in her head that it took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t the one who said them.

They all turned to stare at Higuma, who was going steadily redder. “Uh. Sorry.”

“Seriously, Higuma!” Akari reprimanded. “He’s right though,” she told Hyuga-sensei.

Much to their surprise, Hyuga-sensei laughed, tilting his head back a little. “It’s too bad you and Ino didn’t get to spend more time together,” he told Akari. “Another day, perhaps.”

Akari looked both thrilled and terrified at the very prospect.

Teuchi slid their bowls in front of them, and they all rustled around hastily for the chopsticks. Tenten had given up trying to contain the toddler, and let him run (on the ground) to go sit next to the Hokage as well. She slid into the spot next to her husband, running her hand over his shoulder blade as she did and then leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Hyuga-sensei held his chopsticks over his bowl and murmured, his gaze focused elsewhere, “Thank you for the food.”

#nejiten #neji #tenten #hui na #naruto oc #ino #fanfic #my writing

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