#happy third day of hanukkah to all those who celebrate!

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hi! I'm wondering if you can make a list of fics where Erik's jewish heritage isn't ignored? I just came across the fact that a lot of authors don't explore this part of him for some reason and i found it kinda upsetting so i'm wondering if you have any recs! I liked "As They Kiss, Consume" and "Who Shall be King Hereafter" by sherwoodfox, in case anyone who's reading this ask is interested in the same topic.

Hi Anon. I'm sorry for taking so long with this list but your request sent me on a wide search for fics that fit with your request. I tried to find a variety of fics where Erik's Jewish heritage is addressed. Some of them aren't necessarily cherik, but most of them are. I hope you enjoy this list.

Mistletoe, Latkes, and Long-Term Revenge Strategies – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles knows that Erik hates working at a department store in the best of times. Being Jewish in a department store during the holiday season is far from the best of times. He does what he can to help.

A Nice Boy (the Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Bashert – AvengingAngel

Summary: Erik and Charles meet and fall in love. I wanted to write a story where Erik had a huge family. Pretty fluffy (for me anyways). I suck at summaries.

Note: The summary doesn’t reveal much but if you’re looking for a fic where Erik is jewish and has a large family with a heavy dose of cherik fluff and angst then this one is for you.

Math Reasons – pearl_o,  pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Ser

It’s kind of our whole things – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Sequel to Math Reasons

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside – heyjupiter

Summary: "It's just, this is my first Chanukah away from my parents. And it's--it's like 90 degrees out."

Erik Lehnsherr and Kitty Pryde celebrate a Genoshan Chanukah. It's a little different from the way it used to be in New York, but some unexpected visitors help them embrace the spirit of the holiday season.

Hold Back the Rain (front!strict mashup) – euphorbic

Summary: Charles Xavier: society darling, powerful political activist, well-known professor, and Dominant.

Erik Lehnsherr: anti-social, international motorcycle racer, and defiant submissive.

Erik is at Sepang in Malaysia for the fourteenth leg of the International World Championship. After doing poorly in qualifying, he's furious to find he has to take another VIP around the track instead of meeting Charles at the KL airport.

The Swan – waitfornight

Summary: In 1939 Erik and his sister Ruth are sent to Devonshire, England, during the Kindertransport refugee program to live with Kurt and Sharon Marko as foster children just before the start of World War II. Angry and wishing he could return home on the night of his seventeenth birthday, Erik meets a boy alone in the forest who is cursed to transform each day into a swan, only taking his true form by night.

Swan Lake AU.

The boy with the heart on his sleeve – euphorbic

Summary: Charles loses a high-stakes bet to Raven and is required to get a tattoo. However, when he makes a disparaging remark about the art form, Raven's acerbic mentor, Erik, steps in.

Or, the one where Erik and Raven are tattoo artists.

The Wurst Case Scenario – sareyen

Summary:If anyone asked why Charles, come rain, wind or shine, made the significant trek during his dismal lunch hour to dine at "Edie's Kosher Delicatessen", he would stubbornly say that it was because their pastrami on rye and potato knishes were absolutely to die for. He wasn't completely lying, because the deli's namesake, Edie Lehnsherr, made the best matzah ball soup Charles has ever had in his life. Still, Charles would rather shave his full head of hair off than admit that the real reason he would willingly walk through hail and fire to get to the corner deli was because of Erik, the insanely attractive man working the counter.

Sure, Erik has barely spoken two words to Charles other than "Hello, what can I get you?" or, after the third day in a row that Charles came to the deli, "Welcome back, what can I get you?", but Charles was more than happy to just ogle at the man from afar while devouring the juicy wurst Erik had put together with his (large and very capable) hands.

But, little does Charles know, Erik doesn't usually work the front counter. He only does it when he knows the cute blue-eyed man will be dining in.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction – melonbutterfly

Summary: Since that day on the beach, Charles and Erik have learned to agree to disagree for the sake of living and working together. Then, for Christmas, and Charles gives Erik Hanukkah back a second time, and their relationship shifts a little further.

Terrible Hanukkah Sweaters and Other Life Challenges – professor

Summary: “Why am I here again?” Erik groans.

“I need you to lift things and glower at people over my shoulder when I tell people that it’s not ‘politically correct’ or a ‘war on Christmas’ to have a non-denominational winter holiday festival,” says Theresa Pryde.

Well, at least those are two things he’s good at.

Shrapnel – librata

Summary: It's late 1940, and tensions between the Axis and the Allies are tightening. Displaced and alone, 16-year-old German Jew Erik Lehnsherr finds himself employed as a servant by some snobby, terrible family in England whose house is far too big and whose money never seems to end. The worst part is, he isn't just mucking stables or cleaning plates–-he's tasked with tending to the whiny, disabled son named Charles, who might just drive Erik into absolute madness.

Or, the World War II fic in which Erik and Charles experience a changing world and a lot of teen angst.

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

table for three – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik should have known to call ahead to the Chinese restaurant--it's Christmas Eve and he lives in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood, after all. But before he can go home to mourn the loss of another one of his mother's yearly traditions, he's accosted by a teenage girl with a strange proposition--that he should stay and have dinner with her and her mother, instead.

different from all other nights – metonymy

Summary: "This year we are slaves; next year we will be free." Kitty and Erik host a seder for Passover at the Xavier School.

Libertad – ariadnes_string

Summary: Erik knew the look, had seen it his whole life, even before the war.  ”You, with your height and blue eyes and straight nose, you can pass. You can be free of us. You are not marked with your difference.” If you only knew, he’d thought then. He thought the same thing now. And it was that thought, as much as anything, that made him move towards the gate.

Wash Away – sebastian2017

Summary: One quiet, lonely morning, before Yom Kippur, Erik makes his way to the sea in search of forgiveness.

After? There is No ‘After’ – Unrepentant_Marvelist

Summary: Erik knows what he is for. He has known his responsibilities as a survivor since the moment he woke under a scratchy, lice-infested blanket in the Red Army hospital. His world is painted in lucid blacks and whites (so often splashed in red) and there is no room for uncertainty or indecision... until a certain sunburned Englishman throws himself into his world.

The Children of an Idle Brain – Margo_Kim

Summary: Sometimes, when he’s lucky, Schmidt can’t hurt him. It’s like there’s a room inside of Erik’s head that’s he’s usually locked out of, that won’t open no matter if he beats himself bloody against it. On those days, he endures. But sometimes—and Erik doesn’t know why, whether it’s that the stars align or some higher power takes pity or Erik screams loud enough to earn his reward—the door opens. Erik can duck inside and slam it behind him and watches himself through the windows as Schmidt slowly, methodically tortures him to strength.

These days, this past week, there’s a boy in the room with him and he tells Erik, “That’s horrible,” like that means something.

Somehow, across the world, Erik's and Charles' minds touch when they need each other most. They can't be sure that the other boy is real. They suspect that he is not. But that doesn't mean they aren't each other's lifeline until they lose each other and then for a while longer.

Tehillim – kvikindi

Summary: Erik, in Israel, afterwards: another life he could have had. If.

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) – childishinquiry

Summary: Erik has worn long sleeves his whole life, even before they had to wear yellow stars. Marching along his arm, in neat, black, English letters, are the words "My name's Charles Xavier."

Precious Few Years – sherwoodfox

Summary: Erik and Charles (known only to each other by the letters inscribed on their wrists) are meant to be together, soulmates, destined for the most powerful kind of love and connection a human being can experience.

But they are separated in almost every possible way- by distance, by circumstance, by language, by war. Their chances of success- of finding one another in the labyrinth of the world- are very slim. There is a reason why most people never find their soulmates.

But of course, Charles and Erik aren't ordinary children-

They have their gifts.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #Erik is Jewish #holocaust #asks #earnestly answers

[seasonsofeverlark]

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding. 

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict. 

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre​, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge. 

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday! 

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

  Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep. 

  I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband. 

  Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service. 

  “I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier. 

  I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod. 

  Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood. 

  Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color. 

  “Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah. 

  There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody  is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah. 

  “Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles. 

  “There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back. 

  This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family. 

  The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky. 

  The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half. 

  Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable. 

  First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights. 

  Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,” 

  He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” 

  His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced. 

  My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

  Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.” 

  Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

  Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night. 

  “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.” 

  He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second. 

  My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night. 

  I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together. 

  When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

  I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should! 

  Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah. 

  The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

  Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!” 

  “I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room. 

  Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun. 

  Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece. 

  The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

  When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick. 

  I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

  “So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

  There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

  “That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

  “Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair. 

  “Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

  “Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?” 

  “Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins. 

  “Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys. 

  “I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

  “I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

  “No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

  “Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

  “Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

  “We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

  “It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud. 

  “Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

  I almost choke on my cookie. 

  Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

  “Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

  “Not to…” the twins mumble contritely. 

  “Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!” 

  The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

  Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

  “Haymitch…” I ground a low warning. 

  It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between… 

  Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell. 

  “Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!” 

  I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

  But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

  When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

  I giggle at the memory. 

  I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.” 

  I happen to agree. 

  I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in. 

  Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other. 

  My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

  “But, Mamme…we know the story!” 

  Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?” 

  I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM! 

  “Yes, Mamme.” 

  I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has? 

  Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude. 

  I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

  There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

  I was 11 then. 

  That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army. 

  Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected. 

  Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

  Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments. 

  Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others. 

  “Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

  I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes. 

  “Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!” 

  “Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot. 

  The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

  Prim takes a deep breath and nods. 

  Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically. 

  “Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages. 

  Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

  “Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

  “‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

  “Purified!” 

  “Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

  Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring. 

  Aspen continues the narration after a second. 

  “At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

  Hushed voices comment their approval. 

  The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

  “Eight days…” corrects Thom.

  “Eight days straight!”

  “It was a miracle!”

  Everyone claps, excitedly. 

  “The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

  “That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

  “And won back the Holy Temple,”

  “And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!” 

  The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration. 

  After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces. 

  The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

  Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made. 

  “Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

  “For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.” 

  My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

  Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!” 

  My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?” 

  I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

  “I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.” 

  My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?” 

  “I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early. 

  Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children. 

  My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results. 

  Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman! 

  Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse. 

  Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

  I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!” 

  Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair. 

  “Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes. 

  I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

  Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat. 

  “Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own. 

  “I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek. 

  It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way. 

  We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

  Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund. 

  Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents. 

  Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did. 

  Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can. 

  While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet. 

  I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles. 

  Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg. 

  It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in. 

  I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.” 

  Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

  Peeta and I survived against the odds.

  It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. 

  It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.  

  It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for. 

  “Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on. 

  “Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

  My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!” 

  “What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly. 

  Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!” 

  “Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip. 

  He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

  Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor. 

  “Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

  Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.” 

  I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob. 

  Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week. 

  “Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

  “Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

  “Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle. 

  I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn. 

  Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago. 

  My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff. 

  My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully. 

  Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays. 

  After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

  But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!” 

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!” 

  “Together?” My voice wavers.

  “Together!” he vows. 

  “Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

  I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back. 

  “Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears. 

  “It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

  The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape. 

  Peeta is crying. 

  I’m crying too! 

  My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her. 

  “Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it. 

  Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

  “Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief. 

  “Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?” 

  “No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

  My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

  “We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table. 

  We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!” 

  The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

  Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s! 

  “Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim. 

  “Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

  I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!” 

  The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess. 

  After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her. 

  Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag. 

  Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely. 

  I fall asleep after a while.

  When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light. 

  Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not. 

  “Peeta?” I call softly.

  My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,” 

  No, I wouldn’t. 

  I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family. 

  I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect. 

  “Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

  “Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between. 

  My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah. 

  Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

  I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift. 

  I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange. 

  “Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

  Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle. 

  He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy. 

  I nod, accepting his explanation. 

  Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly. 

  “Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!” 

  I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

  We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

  Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically. 

  He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on. 

  I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow. 

  We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah. 

  Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby. 

  Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

  “I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.” 

  I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

  “I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

  “Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #prompt

[dog-day-morning]

The word of God tells us we shall suffer for the cause of Christ, he who seeks a greater reward must attain a greater faith. Unto whom much is given that much more is required. You wanna eat that whole caramel cake, you crave that sweet tea, you pursue that woman in a nightclub hoping to get her in a compromised position, face down tail up because face it, we're not willing to bow down to the will of God, but we’re so happy, and ready to give in to that round mound of doo doo brown. The 3 Hebrew boys Meshach, Shadrach, and Abednego went into the fiery furnace defying Nebuchadnezzar's declaration to worship him. These men had the inspiration, strength, and courage to say, even if He doesn't deliver us, we know that He can. That kind of faith is called perfected faith. We can be lazy because we refuse to work with what God gave us before the day of calamity comes to devour us. Tribulation is kicking into high gear, and many of God’s people are none the wiser. There are people who were working 3 jobs before, and after this pandemic became a global concern who know what is on the horizon. You don't need an Issachar spirit to discern the times; read the Bible. He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, ‘A shower is coming.’ And so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,’ and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time? The gov't has pulled back on unemployment benefits forcing many to find a job. The 2 righteous servants in the parable of the 3 servants increased the wealth of their employer who trusted 3 men with different amounts of talents [money], and the 1 who didn't work diligently for his master inherited weeping, and gnashing of teeth. God invested in us, and He expected a greater return from this major investment. Jesus was the greatest financial venture ever made. The Father placed His faith in His Son who in turn gave Him many more sons that walk amongst us waiting for the Day of Judgment. This investment which supersedes all, but are intertwined will never decrease, and forever increase. The 144,000 isn't a spiritually inspired interpretation based on mine, and Mima getting the Holy Ghost or having an encounter with the Holy Spirit to speak in tongues. Sit down grandma, your Depends are leaking brown stuff that reeks of formaldehyde, and raw chitlins. God is looking for a righteous Nation to worship Him not themselves. These men, and boys who represent the 12 tribes of Israel have never been defiled by women, and hopefully not by men either. You lucky mother You can take the word literally or as a misinterpretation. Those who don't believe in the written word who believe that God's word isn't infallible aren't all to blame for this heresy. Those who originally interpreted the King James Bible added to, and took from are suffering for a misleading interpretation. The prophetic which God didn't let man corrupt altogether has pretty much played out verbatim. We may be dying to a world that is trying to kill our faith that God has no intention of doing until He finds His true worshippers, and He’ll never destroy one's faith in Him. Winter is coming and you and I must be prepared. We must live like today is our last without being caught up in fear. I'm suffering from a form of laziness called jackass. God shall supply all your needs, but faith without works is dead. The ant has the intuition to work throughout the Summer knowing that Winter is coming. A lot of these drones won't live to see the finished product. Ant mounds look like the Pyramids of Giza that secure the Queen, but where is the King? They serve the one who gives life that sustains the colony, she is their goddess, but what happens if the Queen dies? There's more than one Queen serving the colony who can breed an entire colony independent of one other. fulfilling their role while working together in unison with the others who all serve a greater purpose. This

is a major element that drives the Kingdome of heaven. Christ is just like His Father In the Kingdome that includes the Holy Spirit which they will pour upon all flesh again soon. There are no cowards or sinners in the Kingdome. The angels are not as drones, they are blessed warriors.

Revelation 21:8

8 But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.

1 Corinthians 6:8-10

8 Nay, ye do wrong, and defraud, and that your brethren.

9 Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,

10 Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

Alkebulan we need to wake up and get right. Black American's of the tribes of Judah, Gad, Reuben, and Issachar you need to aim at my forehead, and scatter my scatter brained grey matter all over the pavement. When Joe Biden told a radio podcaster if you don't vote for me you're not Black, he must be color blind. This vaccine that suspiciously looks like the Mark of Whodunnit. They can plant a microchip in your arm that can track your every move, financial transaction, and possibly your dreams while you sleep. Some Walmart stores are refusing to take cash when you check out; they only take debit, and credit cards. These are signs that we’re living in the End Times. The Last Days. I'm looking at this as a sign to get the hell outta this city, and decompose. What in God's name am I afraid of? Jesus took a beat down like a man on a mission.. You're not weak or simping if you gave your life for a people you fed, healed, gave sight to, preached to, taught them a new way to live, pray, love, told them about a Kingdome greater than Jerusalem, and you didn't kill anybody in the process knowing what they were going to do to your physical body in an almost retarded like bid to destroy their salvation. I've done none of that; my bad. Stop looking for men, especially zaddy to deliver us. “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” Some of us foolheartedly called Bill Clinton the first Black president when he's not, never can, or will be to me in any sense, Barack wasn't either. Thomas Jefferson, the third elected president, who served two terms between 1801 and 1809 was described as the “son of a half-breed Indian squaw (Black) and a Virginia mulatto father (Black).” Abraham Lincoln, the nation’s 16th president, served between 1861, and 1865. Lincoln had very dark skin, and coarse hair and his mother allegedly came from an Ethiopian tribe. His heritage fueled so much controversy that Lincoln was nicknamed “Abraham Africanus the First” by his presidential opponents and cartoons were drawn depicting him as a Negro. Warren Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Dwight David Eisenhower, and the scourge of the South Andrew Jackson were all n**gahs. I’ll see you come Hanukkah you self-hating black, Uncle Ruckus’s. I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, why should I be overjoyed about the genocide, and enslavement of God's people? Christmas is what it is. Hopefully you will celebrate this holiday season together fulfilling God's prophetic word. I can't unless you kill me. The Christmas holiday is as pagan as Joel Osteen is at scamming. David Duke, you might wanna go to ancestry.com, and take a DNA test. You might be 30% Swahili. By the looks of those big, gorilla nostrals you had before that rhinoplasty. You, and Bull Connor may be related to Idi Amin. Your biggest shame is your greatest blessing. Personally you can kiss the skid marks in the middle of my skid marks after I take a fresh dump. Conservative, political pundits, and wannabes whose names I won't mention, but one in particular who looks like he smoked 23 blunts in 15min. with no filter. Please keep him in California, and let him drown with his zaddy, and pancaked tail, bowed hipped women. Use your lips as a floatation device dude. These people are ashamed of the God who has blessed many, and plenty. These people suffer, hopefully not always, from the white savior or white zaddy complex. The truth isn't in any of them, that's why they're so adept at lying when making bold-faced statements before the public that opposes their previous opinion like people don’t have YouTube or google. I’ll Bing a factoid or Yahoo that mother to get the truth I may even pay for it, gimme a dollar. My inability to walk amongst men as a man has stagnated my propensity to live That's BS, my Apostle said something this past Sunday that's stuck on my forehead. YOU'RE LAZY!!! I am what I am, a pain in the rear end. This has gone on way too long. Sometimes

I feel as though God wants me to kill myself because the PO PO won’t. I would feel better if my natural family would stab me in the neck, not my back, with a piece of diseased, pork, spare rib from a boar hog, and let me die from a rare form of trichinosis. The people have spoken while I’m playing Jay, and Silent Bob. Father, get me outta here. Elohim, 9/16/2021

#your financial transactions

[poormeowmeowcollector]

The perfect Christmas Tree

Relationship: Loki/short!reader

Summary: You want to make the Christmas season something more livid within the tower, but you can't find a good tree. Until Loki offers his help.

Notes: part of the 'Tis The Season Challenge of @the-emo-asgardian and a twisted form of 10. Finding the perfect Christmas tree. But, in my defense, it didn't say who is the perfect Christmas tree ans it's 3am.

Read On AO3

You always loved Christmas. It is the time of the year when your family is a little less annoying and you are a bit more tolerant of listening to "All I Want For Christmas Is You” (as long as it's the My Chemical Romance version) and the food is just a huge plus.

The Avengers don't have the best memories around Christmas—maybe with the exception of Sam, Steve and Bucky—and you can't blame them. Hell, Thor, Loki and Wanda aren't even Christians, but Thor enjoys the food and Loki just goes around saying that this is a celebration stolen from pagans and then capitalism stole it from Christians. And he does celebrate Yule but you caught him at 4am raiding the cookies Wanda had baked for Hanukkah.

And, since Christmas is the happiest season for winter, you decided to make the perfect Christmas celebration the tower has ever seen. And you are so close to it. There are cookies and movies and songs and decorations and Wanda and Thor helped you include Hanukkah and Yule to the party—since Loki, the actual witch, is too busy with seasonal depression to help—but something is missing.

And that something is the damned tree.

You tried to find the best tree but it was pointless. Both Thor and Loki are extremely sensitive to earthly plants, so an actual tree is out of the list, and all the fake ones look too fake. And you want something special for the tree, but you don't know what.

So, you are now just sitting in the living room, staring at the empty corner with the decorations from the three religions beside you and trying to think of what to do.

"Still thinking about that tree, huh?" Loki's voice interrupts the silence. You hide a flinch and turn to face him with a smile. He smiles back, walking closer and leaving the hot cup of chocolate on the table.

"That obvious…" You sigh. He has seen better days, that's sure. The dark circles from the attack have returned, making his pale green eyes glow, his hair looks like a mess and he's in some dark green Æsir pyjamas. But he's still pretty.

Or your crush is still going strong.

"Why don't you just give up. This thing won't work and you know it," He asks and you frown, staring at him as you search for an answer.

He turns away to take a sip of his chocolate, and your eyes are still on him. On his hair. They look like they used to during the attack, like a sinister Christmas tree.

He sees you smiling like you just lost your mind as your brain clicks everything together.

"Stand up," You demand, and he gives you the raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Please, stand up, I have an idea!" You repeat. He still doesn't get it but obeys.

"Great. Now go to that corner," You instruct as you smile. Loki gives you a look but does what you say. And you grab the green garland and tangle his body with it, careful not to tie his hands.

"What are you doing?" He asks, way too clearly than needed. He always does that when he's angry.

"You'll be the Christmas tree!" You smile. And he glares at you, not believing what you say.

"Forget it," He snaps and tries to walk away but you put a hand on his chest.

"Please, it'll be fun. For me, please…" You beg, deploying the puppy eyes. For the last months on the team, Loki had suggested a lot of crazy things and you will not make him take your turn to madness. He sighs and closes his eyes.

"I will regret it but… fine," He hums, walking back to his place as you pass the red garland around him.

"You will look so pretty!" You exhale, grinning like a sunbeam.

"I haven't slept for a week, haven't showered in three days and I'm running lower on will to live than your laptop on battery. How will I be pretty?" He disagrees, and you suppress a frown. You always hate it when he doesn't feel good, he doesn't deserve it.

"Don't you trust me?" You ask, blinking at him. He sighs, again.

"I do, dear…" He tries to make a small smile, but he looks like he doesn't remember how.

"Then, trust me when I say that you will look perfect," You respond, making his smile widen.

He stands still as you tangle him with the lights. You are too focused on not risking him getting electrocuted to speak and he stays silent as well. But when you are done with this, he says one word "cocoa,". You nod and grab the cup from the table, standing in your tiptoes as you place it on his lips and let him sip—he can't move his hands without ruining something.

"Thank you, dear," He smiles and allows you to place the cup back before you can start placing the balls and decorations you made with Thor and Wanda, or tangle the little ropes with the garlands and lights in order to sit there.

And then, you hang two pieces in his ears, glad to find out that they sit perfectly and that Loki doesn't give you the murder glare.

"But why are you so eager to make this thing?" He asks, watching as you try to tangle a homemade star of David on his shoulder.

"Because this is a season when we can just have something together and be less miserable," You respond without a second thought. Loki makes a low sound from the back of his throat.

"Why have you decided to hate it so much?" You ask, staring at him.

"It doesn't feel right," He mutters, almost ashamed of his answer. You tilt your head, asking for elaboration. "It's all about family and being with people you love and all those things and… I haven't lived it… It's like it's mocking me, you know," He looks away, the shame getting stronger. It was about Asgard, like always…

You cup his hand, he was inhumanly cold as always, searching for his eyes. "That's why I'm making this thing. You're not the only one with bad or no memories about this season, and you deserve some happy memories…" You speak softly, hoping you don't make things worse.

He turns back to you, his eyes glowing with tears he tries to hold and a slight smile on his lips. He mouths a thank you, not having the voice to speak it up. And you reply with a smile, squeezing his hand before you release it, a small whine echoing.

"I just have to place the star and you're ready," You announce, digging into the bag for the golden star. You laugh as you take it out and stand on your tiptoes to reach Loki's head.

"Do you want me to duck?" He asks, seeing your struggle. To be fair, you are not exactly gifted with inches and he is the third tallest avenger, after Thor and Steve.

"No, I'm fine. I just gotta…" You sigh between your teeth, trying to reach him.

A green light appears beneath you and lifts you up several inches, reversing the high deference. "Thank you, sweetie," You smile. He tries to hide a blush.

Damn, he looks so cute from up here!

You place the star and balance it on his head, secretly thanking him for his good posture. You lower yourself to have eye contact. "Now you look like a pretty Christmas tree," You smile and kiss the tip of his nose.

His magical platform vanishes, and two glowing hands that tickle when they touch you bring you closer to him. At first, he just brushes his forehead to yours. But then, you pull him to a kiss.

He tastes so nice, like snow and mint and chocolate. And you can smell the aftershave in his face, feel the small grin before he kisses back, the magic hands holding you softer, closer.

"Alright, what's going on?" Tony asks, or yells, from the door. The magic hands vanish and you stare at him.

"I'm kissing our Christmas tree," You blink, as if this isn't the weirdest thing you ever said.

"I love it too…" You hum, bringing him close to a hug.

"Ok, you're high. Loki, let's suppose you are the one with a decent state of mind. Why are you covered in Christmas decoration?" Tony sighs. You can see Loki grinning, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, I'm the Christmas tree," He answers, again, as if this isn't on his top ten of weirdest things he ever said. Tony groans.

"Why did I wake up today?" He asks himself, rubbing his eye bridge.

"And, can you call the others? We're about to light him up, people should watch." You ask, smiling at Tony. He sighs and nods, speaking to JARVIS as he settles on the sofa.

"Cocoa, my love?" Loki asks. You nod and grab the cup, bringing it to his lips and letting him take a long sip. When he's over, you place it back and steal a small kiss, tasting the chocolate again.

"You really know how to make a hot cocoa," You smile at him. He bites his lip and tries to hide his blushing.

And then, people start arriving. And they all stare at Loki like he's naked. Some ask what is happening and you inform them with a smile. When everyone is settled down, you plug in the lights and walk back to admire your work.

Loki grins and raises his hands like he's asking for a hug, watching as people start smiling at the sheer ridiculousness of the view. And he doesn't give a care.

Sam takes his phone out and snaps a shot, grinning. Everyone but Steve, Bucky and Thor mimic him, snickering echoing.

"You won't post something, right?" He asks, hiding his worry. Loki has been trying to fix his public image since he became an Avenger, and this is certainly not what he means by this.

"I promise nothing," Sam smiles.

Loki tries to walk to where Sam is, but the sound of plugs getting pulled and decorations breaking stops him.

"Don't post. It's private. We'll pick up the mess," You snap. Sam nods and leaves, everyone following his steps until you are alone with Loki again.

"Come on, lets get those things off you," You mutter and untie the decorations before you get the garlands and lights off him. As you put them back to the bag, he kneels down and makes all the pieces of broken balls and hammers disappear.

"You know…" Loki trails off, now sitting on the clean ground. You already know what he's about to say.

"This was ridiculous and embarrassing, I know. I'm sorry," You don't get the courage to stare at him. But he does let his hand cup yours, bringing you down to him.

"It was fun. You know, I love it when you let me be goofy and have fun… Not a lot of people did in the past," He smiles, brushing his cold fingers against your hand.

~~~

"You get used to it, actually," Loki hums, staring at the tree.

Well, the "tree" is a hologram of Loki yesterday, his hands raised and a self proud smile on his face.

You hum, shifting to get more comfortable in his shoulder. He smiles and turns to you.

"Well, you make a good tree," You shrug. He traces his fingers on your cheek, giving you another sweet kiss.

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #loki/reader #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel crack #marvel fluff #fluff and crack #christmas special #christmas fanfiction #sinister Christmas tree #y'all are in blame for this #what is happening?

[solalunar-eclipse]

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter Two: Shadow

One | Three

Word count: about 6500 words

No warnings, just more angst than last time because Shadow.

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for the great comments you left on chapter one- it’s really what keeps me writing and posting.

In other news, I believe that Hanukkah started yesterday evening, so to anyone who celebrates that holiday, Happy Hanukkah!

...

It was the dawn of a bright new day, and Shadow stirred as the sun rose, feeling oddly content. His bed was warm, and he was comfortable, and he really didn’t want to get up just yet. Fumbling around on the bedside table for his book, he began to feel even better at the thought of hiding under the covers for another hour or two, curled up reading…

Except his book wasn’t there. He made several quiet irritated noises, before forcing himself to sit upright.

Chaos, he was not a morning person.

This was incredibly frustrating, of course, since he only needed about five hours of sleep a night and tended to wake up early. Coffee beans usually helped with that, though, and some hot water. 

His thoughts now focused on coffee, Shadow dragged himself slowly out of bed, shuddering as the cold air hit his fur. He searched through the clothes he’d brought and pulled out a warm, soft sweater, sighing with relief as he put it on. It was his favorite, too, since it matched his stripes nicely. 

Sliding on a pair of slippers (plaid, fluffy, chosen by Rouge) he padded downstairs silently, eyes scanning the area for his book- and caffeine. He wandered through the main hall, enjoying the view that the large windows provided of the snowy landscape. Still, he wished they’d turn the heating up a little, shuddering as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

As he walked into the kitchen, still half-lost in a morning haze, Shadow was fully awakened by the shock of seeing other people up. More specifically, Rouge’s mother and stepmother were cooking. Already. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting, and his quills bristled in surprise. 

His friend’s mother startled and dropped the flour she was carrying, while her stepmother yelped and fumbled with the frying pan on the stove. Shadow rushed over and caught the dropped bag before it could explode, his nerves feeling slightly shot from having to deal with so much this early on.

“My bad,” he whispered, placing the flour on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake yet- sorry.” he finished lamely. The hedgehog began to feel slightly uncomfortable, as both of the other occupants of the kitchen were looking directly at him. Until now, he’d managed to avoid everyone’s notice pretty well at this party, fading quietly into the background after that first introduction. 

He was not prepared to socialize, especially not this early.

Camellia just smiled at him, though, and said kindly, “It’s perfectly alright, honey, we didn’t realize anyone else could stand to get up so early either!”

Rouge’s mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Shadow as she walked past him. “You say that like I like mornings, Cam.” she quipped.

He felt awkward just standing in the middle of the room- especially having interrupted their formerly-private moment- so he took a couple of steps to the side quietly. “I’ll just be out of your way now…”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it at all!” the bat exclaimed. “Were you looking for something, sugar?”

Having two terms of endearment directed his way in as many minutes stressed (and slightly flustered) Shadow, and he found himself beginning to retreat into his usual cold persona. The hybrid muttered, “I was just looking for my book. If you happened to know where the coffee is, that would help. That’s all.”

The cardinal handed him a bag of coffee beans, still smiling warmly. “And I think your book’s over there, honey.”

Shadow took his book and turned to walk out of the room, nodding a quiet ‘thank you’ as he did so.

However...the second he set a foot outside the kitchen doorway, he froze. Looking back over his shoulder, he asked, “...how much more do you have to do?”

It would be downright rude to leave his hosts doing all the work, wouldn’t it?

...and why did that sentence sound like someone else had said it?

“Oh! Well, we have the eggs, and the waffles, and the…” the bat began to rattle off a long list of the different things they had to make. “But don’t worry about us, dear, you have your book to read!”

He wavered a moment longer in the doorway, before reluctantly putting the book down. Walking back to stand in front of them, he sighed. “Where are the aprons, then?” he asked flatly.

“Are you sure, honey?” Camellia asked. “You really needn’t trouble yourself…”

Shadow raised a brow ever so slightly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Rouge’s mother gasped. “We usually get help a little later on, but if you really want to…”

“I have a little experience with cooking, but not much.” he warned, taking the apron she offered him and putting it on. (This was true. He only knew how to make waffles and French toast, and that was just because Rouge decided she would go without breakfast if she had to cook.)

The cheerful cardinal pulled him over to the counter, making Shadow startle slightly. “Have you ever made hash browns before, honey? Those shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“No…?” he said, a little confused. “I...I’ve never had those before. What are they?”

“What?” Lila cried out, on the other side of the room. “What has Rouge been feeding you? Well, it’s about time you learned then.” She moved over to stand next to Shadow, handing him a bag of potatoes.

The hedgehog just stared at the vegetables, his mind going blank.

He needed to have his coffee before he dealt with this. Now.

…

Two hours and several handfuls of coffee beans later, Shadow could say that he absolutely knew what hash browns were, having produced enough of them to feed an army. He had also made veritable mountains of scrambled eggs and stacks of pancakes, all while asking ‘Are you sure we need this many?’. He’d thought that the dinner spread was incredible last night, but seeing everything as it was being made only served to emphasize just how much food everyone here needed.

A few other family members had shown up near the end to help out Rouge’s parents, but the real flow of people was only just beginning. Young children were now rushing down the stairs, lured by the smell of breakfast. A few adults began to come down as well, along with Rouge and Omega.

The younger bat looked a little surprised to see Shadow in the kitchen, and he internally cringed as he realized just how bad he must look right now. His quills were tied back in a sloppy ponytail and the apron he’d been given was more than a little long on him. It wasn’t long enough to conceal his slippers, though, and his sweater was rolled up past his elbows, while his arms were covered in flour, sugar, and even a little bit of oil.

“Aww, hon! You’ve been helping!” she said, batting her eyelashes in a blatantly over-the-top manner. She was clearly fighting the urge to laugh at his appearance.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

Rouge’s mother bustled up at that, smiling warmly at him. Shadow became significantly more uncomfortable- he was used to having glowers and wide-eyed stares directed at him, not...that.

“He just walked over and demanded an apron, then he got right to work!” she said cheerfully. “He’s really quite helpful, honestly!”

Omega looked at the older bat. “Shadow does not like to admit that he’s helping, even when he is very clearly doing so. His pride is too great to ever admit that he’d do such a thing.”

The hybrid scowled. “That is not true.”

Rouge giggled. “Oh, it’s not, hm? Then what about the time you finished-”

“-don’t you dare-”

“-cleaning my room when I-”

“-now you know how it feels, Shadow-”

“-shut up-”

“-took a quick break, or the time when-”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Shadow roared, leaping at her. Rouge’s mother seemed quite startled at this, but Rouge started cackling just like last night, and Omega looked incredibly smug (somehow), watching as she dodged his attack.

“Just look a little sad, Mom, and maybe tell him you’d be ‘ever so grateful’ and he’ll drop everything to do iiiaaaAAAAH!!”

Shadow had managed to catch Rouge and pin her down on the couch. “Take it back.”

“Never.” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

The hybrid prepared himself to inflict some sort of punishment (messing up her makeup, perhaps, or tickling) when he was hoisted bodily and flung over a very square and very metallic shoulder.

“Umph.” he wheezed in a very undignified manner as Omega hauled him out of the room.

The robot looked very pleased with himself. “Ah yes. Revenge is truly sweet.”

...

“Alright, guys!” Rouge announced after breakfast. “It’s perfect weather out, so you know what we’re gonna do? We are going sledding.”

Shadow- who had been cleaning up and lost in thought- nearly hit the ceiling. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, hon, we’ll get you all wrapped up first.” Rouge said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The hybrid’s body immediately sagged in poorly disguised relief.

Five minutes later, Shadow wore three layers of shirts, a coat, sweatpants, snow boots, thick gloves, a hat, and a scarf. “I look like an idiot.” he growled.

“Would you prefer to be cold?” Omega asked him dryly.

Shadow shuddered at the very thought. Pulling his clothes a little tighter, he was suddenly launched back into the past, a very particular memory running through his mind.

“You ready for lessons today, Shadow?” a young, blond-haired girl asked. 

Maria.

Shadow, at the perky young age of two and two-thirds (eight mentally), leaned on the edge of her bed, smiling. “Always!”

Professor Gerald entered shortly with their lesson for the day- exponentials for Maria and multiplying fractions for Shadow- and began to teach.

As Shadow worked on his problems later, the professor’s voice going on in the background as he spoke to his granddaughter, he began to notice his fingers trembling. Weird.

The longer he worked, the more it spread, until his fur was bristling and his whole body shook occasionally. But he was the Ultimate Lifeform! He was made to be tough!

So he kept on going.

Eventually, his breath began to come short and his teeth clicked together. He accidentally dropped his pencil, his fingers trembling too much to hold it.

Maria noticed.

“Shadow, are you alright?” she asked. “Come here for a second…”

He walked over, trying to keep his legs from shaking and failing miserably. She reached out to touch his arm, but gasped as soon as she felt his fur.

“Maria!” he cried out, worried. “Maria, what’s wrong?”

“You’re freezing, Shadow! Come here…”

She pulled him onto the bed next to her, the warm quilt on it keeping her from struggling as Shadow had.

He let out an involuntary sigh as warmth began to flood his body, melting away the shudders and allowing his breathing to return to normal.

“Strange…” the professor had said, after getting Shadow a warm jacket to wear. “This was unexpected- I didn’t think it was so cold! I know the temperature on the space station is meant to simulate wintertime inside on Earth, but it’s only an indoor climate.” He’d later discovered that Shadow’s DNA predisposed him to get cold easily.

Or as Rouge put it: “You’re half lizard, hon. I’m honestly surprised you don’t spend all day lying on hot rocks when it’s cold.”

That event had led to a lifelong hatred of Space Colony ARK’s air conditioning (and several heated glares at the ventilation system for Maria’s benefit).

And then…

Shadow remembered what it felt like to have ice cover his body. When he’d woken up from his frozen sleep, he’d been filled with a chill he just couldn’t shake.

He’d been able to ignore it in his quest for revenge, but from then until he finally went Super, he had struggled to become warm, even in the tropical heat of the jungle. A cold sensation had settled in his very bones.

But now, he no longer felt frozen inside, and the cold was just an irritation, albeit a slightly more emotionally charged one.

Wasn’t everything.

Rouge and Omega had both been incredibly understanding, though. The bat had never made him go outside when it was cold, and she often dumped armfuls of blankets on him at random moments. (He appreciated it more than he let on.) The E-series robot was more subtle in his support, doing things like handing Shadow an extra scarf before he left their house or silently placing a mug of hot chocolate next to him when he shivered.

And now, they were standing in front of him, having packed all of these clothes for his benefit.

Somehow, Shadow couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

“No,” he sighed, “I suppose I don’t.”

“Alright, guys, let’s go!” Rouge practically dragged them out the door, pushing Shadow up onto Omega’s shoulders and then flying up to grab his hands once they were outside.

“I will never comprehend how such a small being has the power to lift both myself and Shadow.” Omega commented as they took off.

“Lots of practice- hff- and weight training- hh- does the trick.” Rouge gasped, evidently straining to keep them in the air. “I’m- ngh- out of practice.”

“It’s fine, Rouge.” Shadow said, his voice muffled by the scarf. “Take your time.”

Eventually, they made it to a giant hill with an incredibly steep slope. As they trudged up to the top, the (relatively) small hedgehog began to notice just how very angled and high the incline was...

Shadow regretted everything. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Rouge?” he asked, watching as Omega lay down on what would have been his chest to be the actual sled.

“Of course, hon! It’s going to be great!”

“Uh…” the hedgehog muttered nervously, even as he allowed Rouge to pull him onto the robot’s back. “I…”

“Alright let’s go.” Omega said quickly, firing his rocket boosters.

Rouge whooped and Shadow (to his eternal shame) screamed as they blasted down the hill at top speed, flying across a patch of ice at the bottom and skidding to a stop several yards away. Panting heavily from his adrenaline rush, Shadow fought to get his thoughts in order. “That...that was….”

“Awesome!” Rouge shouted. “We’re doing that again!”

“...alright?” Shadow agreed. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, but it was a little fun.

The next time, Rouge tried lying down and yelled the whole way- not being able to see where you were going made things a lot more scary. Omega tried carrying them up to the top of the hill as well, completely eliminating the usual grind of dragging a sled up the slope that came with this activity. Shadow got into it eventually, clearly enjoying himself despite the fact that he never quite yelled like Rouge as they careened wildly downhill.

Eventually, Rouge convinced Shadow to try lying down as well. “Don’t worry, hon, I’ll hang onto you and make sure nothing bad happens.” she reassured him.

“Okay...okay. Just make sure you hold on tight.” Shadow groaned, clinging to Omega with enough force to strain his fingers.

They blasted off down the hill and Shadow shouted in surprise- this was so much more intense! He felt every bump and jolt all the way down, but it was all fun.

Until Rouge yelled, “Omega! Tree!!”

Shadow gasped, startled. There was a tree and it was coming up-!

Omega fired his left booster, spinning them far away from the tree. Unfortunately, that meant spinning literally, as he’d majorly overcompensated for the potential collision. Whirling around in a circle, both Shadow and Rouge were thrown off. The bat managed to catch herself mid-air with her wings, but the shaken hedgehog wasn’t quite as lucky.

Shadow’s vision went completely white. For a moment, he feared he’d hit his head- but it was only snow. He sighed in relief.

That feeling didn’t last long, though, as he felt the cold begin to seep in from all sides. Panic wormed its way into his chest- and then when he tried to move, he could only push helplessly against the lightly packed material.

Calm down. It’s only snow. Rouge and Omega will be here any minute now.

He took a deep breath.

And another.

And then Omega was there, clasping his hand to pull him out of the snow, and Rouge was sitting on his shoulder, looking worried but pleased to see him alright. 

“I’m so sorry, hon, I didn’t mean for that to happen…” she said sympathetically.

“Neither did I.” Omega added, and Shadow noticed that the robot wasn’t quite looking him in the eye.

The cold was quickly banished with yet another reminder of just how much his friends cared. “It’s fine. I just…” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “I did what the therapist told me to do and just breathed, and waited for you.”

“Awww, that’s good, hon! Tolja therapy’d help somehow.” Rouge smirked at him, but it was all warmth and kindness underneath.

Shadow shuffled awkwardly in the snow. “It seems that way...I’ve decided to keep going with it, after all.”

“Excellent.” Omega said, and Shadow felt even better. “Now we should get back. Shadow appears to require the immediate application of blankets and hot cocoa.”

The snowy, slushy hedgehog was not in the mood to protest, and simply said, “Yes. Now.”

...

Two pairs of red eyes narrowed in a face-off. It had taken their owners over an hour to get to this point- the final competition. The winner of this match would be crowned champion.

About half of Rouge’s family watched, holding their breath as Shadow opened his mouth to speak.

“E-4.”

“Miss.”

“Dammit!”

Shadow didn’t care one bit who might hear him swear right now, his teeth gritted and mind racing a mile a minute. He was supposed to be good at tactics and strategy, yet here he was losing at Warboat. Badly.

Three of his ships, covered in red markers, lay slain off to one side. Meanwhile, Omega had only lost one and a half of his. Accursed computer processors.

The hedgehog was certain that Omega would have a gigantic grin on his face, if it were possible for him to produce one. As it was, he stared constantly at Shadow, even as he moved his markers around.

“C-6.”

Shadow felt relief flood his very soul. “Miss.”

It didn’t take long for Shadow’s fourth ship to get knocked out, even as he still searched for Omega’s third. He was getting trounced, and he knew it. Yet still, somehow, he had a shred of hope.

But then, two rounds later, he snarled furiously when Omega switched his LED eyes from full circles to half-moons- an evident hint at a smile.

“H-2.”

Shadow’s stomach dropped. “No!”

“Yes.” the robot said proudly, before planting a red marker on his board. 

The hedgehog began to search frantically for Omega’s ship, his moves becoming increasingly random and less thought-out as imminent destruction closed in.

Finally, something happened. “A-1.”, he muttered, resigned to his painful end.

“...hit.”

“Yessss.” Shadow hissed, somehow feeling triumph despite his imminent defeat. 

“Yay.” Rouge remarked dryly from the spectating area. “Consolation prize.”

“Shut uuup.” he whined petulantly, before realizing how very relaxed his demeanor had become. Straightening his back and smoothing down his quills, he allowed that familiar blank expression to settle back into place. “No distracting the players, please.” he added coolly.

Was it him, or was that a flash of...disappointment he caught from her?

Anyhow, he lost on the very next turn. Grumbling quietly, he went to sit down on a couch as Omega partied loudly with all of the children, blasting up-tempo dance music from his speakers.

It was one of the children (such sweet little kids, some of them were) who suggested that they make trophies. Pulling out cardboard and paper to draw on, they quickly made little certificates and gold, silver and bronze medals. One parent found some ribbon to thread through a punched-out hole, and then the little ones all scrambled to set up a proper ceremony “like on TV”.

As Shadow bent down to receive his handmade medal and crayon certificate, he knew without a doubt that this was being saved. For good.

…

Later, Shadow was relaxing in his bedroom when Rouge’s mother walked in, Omega following behind her.

“Oh, good, I’ve found you!” she said, her voice bright as always, but...off, this time. “Would you mind coming with me for a minute?”

As Shadow followed her out of the room, exchanging bewildered looks with Omega, he realized what the strange tone was.

Her voice was brittle. Fragile. As though it might break if one of them spoke wrong.

They entered a different room, one high up and far away from the rest of the party. Rouge’s mother stood in front of them for a moment, pulling at her sweater before deciding to sit down. She looked at her gloves for a moment, clearly thinking…

And then promptly burst into tears.

The two were incredibly startled at this, and despite both being relatively...emotionally inexperienced, they gathered around her to try and help. 

“Uh...I...is something wrong?” Shadow asked, immediately kicking himself mentally. Of course something’s wrong, people don’t cry if everything’s perfectly fine!

Omega, thankfully, got straight to the point. “What is it?”

“It’s...no, no, it was...Rouge.” the bat said, her voice sounding choked.

“Rouge?!” Shadow’s quills bristled. “What happened?”

“She...when Rouge came back. From her two years, you know, away-”

Shadow and Omega did know, now.

“-she came to the party two years ago, and she was different. She was cold, and distant, didn’t talk, and only laughed a- at people, not with them.”

Rouge? Cold and distant?!

“She wouldn’t talk to anybody about her life- the only reason I even knew she worked for G.U.N. was the logo on the paychecks she sent. When she stopped sending those, after I told her the news about Camellia- she took that well enough, but after that...I heard nothing. Nothing, for almost ten months.”

Omega’s eyes were wide, and Shadow was sure his own were as well.

“A-and then one day, she called me up. Her voice was different. Warmer. Happier. She apologized for her silence, and said she’d been in a bad place. I blamed myself, and accepted her apology, of course. She had to grow up so young, do so much all by herself… and she paid the price for it...for a while.

“And then I happened to look at an old article a couple weeks later, and I realized why she was better- and I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. My baby girl, in the news! And of all the things...fighting a world-renowned supervillain alongside the likes of Sonic the Hedgehog!

“But that wasn’t why she was better. No, when I started searching the internet frantically and saw her perched on the shoulder of a massive black and red robot, laughing uproariously- when I finally worked up the courage to go to her social media pages and saw, not darkness and pain, but her with an arm slung tightly around a young striped hedgehog, flashing the biggest smile I’d seen in years, I knew.”

Shadow’s hands were jittery and he really wished his heart would stop beating so loudly.

“It was both of you. I never found out the specifics as to how she met you two- I hope she’ll tell me the story someday- but you saved her from all of it. She had coworkers, sure, some nicer than others, but you gave her friends, and ones who understood her position at that.

“And this year- getting into a snowball fight! Telling silly stories at the dinner table! She would never have done that last year, mark my words.”

Rouge’s mother was smiling broadly through her tears now, looking at both of them. She reached out and hugged Omega, tightly but quickly, and did the same for Shadow, leaving him dumbfounded. “Just- I-

“Thank you.”

Shadow sat there for a minute, unable to do anything other than keep a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, though, he noticed some movement by the door, and spun around to see Rouge standing there, absolutely silent as mascara-filled tears streamed down her face. Her hand was clamped over her mouth, presumably to keep from making any noise. 

“Rouge?” her mother asked, startled.

“Mooommmmm….” she whined, her own voice sounding tight- and then she rushed across the room and into her mother’s arms. “I love you, Mom.”

Shadow tried very hard to ignore the burning sensation just behind his eyes.

“You’re right. About, like, all of it.” Rouge said quietly, once she was finished crying with her mom. “Nothing here mattered to me when I was out there every day being, basically a soldier, y’know?”

She sighed, wiping more tears from the corners of her eyes, and stood up. “I think now’s a good time to say something that I’ve been thinking about for a while. Sorry if it isn’t perfect-” she laughed thickly- “I’m not exactly in the best state right now.”

Rouge’s mother smiled at her. “I’ll give you three some privacy, then.” she said gently, closing the door on her way out.

After she left, the younger bat resumed her impromptu speech. “Okay. Omega....chaos. Omega. Ohhh man.” She pointed at him. “That day? When you busted out of heckin’ nowhere and started blasting your machine guns like mad? O-one of the best days of my life. Wanna know why? I met you.”

Omega looked very fixedly at a point on the wall behind her.

“You literally carry me places. You crush our enemies with your epic missiles and fists of steel. You helped me prank Knuckles so bad he was checking everywhere for traps for the next week. You’re so fun and I just. You. Awesome. I can’t explain it properly right now but hopefully I’ll get to do a lot more of that later. You’re the best ever.”

“I…” Omega sounded like he was at a loss for words. “I am...honestly extremely flattered by this statement. I will continue to carry you places and destroy all who oppose us.”

“Awesome.” Rouge grinned.

“Aaaand Shadow.” She wheeled to face him, and the hedgehog in question attempted to mentally prepare himself and failed horribly. “You. You are so cool there are no words to describe it. And I don’t mean because you own a motorbike or you dress in all black or any of that stuff. 

“I mean because like half the people who’ve been important in your life so far have been trying to kick the ever-loving hell out of you...and yet you get up each and every single time they do it and win. Honestly...I’m proud to know you, Shadow. And I hope you know that if you need me, for anything ever, know that I will give up the Master Emerald in a hot second to help.

“So yeah. And you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who’s actually willing to talk makeup- let alone likes it. The one who tries all the new restaurants with me. And the only person I will ever know who can somehow handle going to the mall with me more than once in a week.” Rouge finished with a smirk. “I guess you really are Ultimate.”

Everyone in the room who had tear ducts was currently using them. A lot.

Shadow sniffed furiously and wiped tears from his eyes. “Th- thank you…” He cursed internally as his voice betrayed him.

“Oh yeah, get ready for more.” Rouge warned him. “There’s more.”

The hybrid’s throat tightened in response.

“You know how I said, before we came here, that you guys meant as much to me as my real family?”

“Yes?” Omega asked, his voice sounding a little quieter than usual.

“To heck with that. You guys don’t have to, like, change anything because of this, but you are my family. You’re both my real family. As real as Mom is.” Rouge said, her words shaky yet determined. 

Shadow felt as though he’d just been struck by a bolt of lightning. Dazed, he swayed slightly, clinging to the edge of his seat. 

Family?

Is...is Rouge...is Omega….

He began to hyperventilate just thinking about it, just considering that after all he’d been through, after everything he’d lived through- at the end of it all, waiting for him, right now, was a--

“Shadow. Shadow, hold your breath.” Omega reminded him, and he shut his mouth and clasped his hands tightly for a minute. 

A family? My family?!

“I- yes. Please. Yes. Family sounds good.” Shadow managed to stammer.

“Well, then!” Rouge said, looking pleased. “Now I get to assume the official Big Sister duties of kicking anyone who dares look at you wrong and buying you food.”

Shadow blushed a little. “Rouge. I don’t need protecting like that...”

“I know, but since when’s that going to stop me?” she asked. “And don’t start complaining- being the baby brother’s the good life, from what I’ve heard.”

A fresh wave of tears poured down his face at the words ‘baby brother’. 

Of course, that was when Omega decided to go completely off the rails. “Am I the middle sibling or the youngest?”

Shadow and Rouge stared at him for a second. Then they both started laughing wildly, the toll of the various emotional highs and lows hitting them all at once. 

“M-middle one.” Rouge gasped out eventually. “Definitely, the attention-seeking middle sibling.”

Omega made angry eyes for a second, but reconsidered. “Fine. That...yes, that works.”

“Family group hug?” Rouge suggested, smiling warmly at them both.

Shadow nodded weakly. “F-family group hug.”

Omega picked them both up and held them tightly. “You both will always be my favorite organic beings.”

“Thanks, Omega.” Rouge said, squeezing them both a little tighter.

…

A couple of hours later, Shadow was pulled out of his room for the third time in two days, again by Rouge’s mother. “Sorry to bother you, honey, I just wondered...would you mind giving us a hand with dinner? You were such a great help with breakfast that Cami and I had hoped....”

Curse you, Rouge.

So now he was in the kitchen. Again.

Only things were very different this time. Now, there were about ten people in there, all rushing around in some complicated pattern and carrying hot, cold, cooked, uncooked, and various other kinds of dishes all over without running into each other.

Somehow. 

Shadow, despite feeling very overwhelmed and (strangely) underqualified, took one step into the fray- and immediately jumped several feet straight back as he was nearly mowed down by one of Rouge’s auncles rushing past with some sort of casserole.

“Sorry, kiddo!” they yelled over their shoulder, handing off the dish to someone else before sprinting back across the kitchen. Seconds later, another relative vaulted over the island in the middle of the room to get to the sink as quickly as possible, while carrying a semi-full plate that he somehow managed to keep steady.

The hybrid suddenly remembered several battles and sparring matches that he’d participated in. This...actually looked a lot like those.

He locked eyes with Rouge’s stepmother. She didn’t have time to say anything to him, instead just tilting her head in one direction. Shadow’s eyes snapped to a frying pan left unattended and knew what he had to do.

He took a running start and launched himself clear over several people’s heads before sticking the landing right in front of the pan. Several people applauded, and one person- the vaulting relative from earlier- frowned, having been severely upstaged.

So it was a competition, then?

Shadow looked directly at him and smiled like a feral shark.

...

The wild food preparation/parkour show finished with several people throwing the food to each other across the room like in a musical (Shadow thanked his lucky stars that he’d caught his- it was made of glass), and he decided it only existed because Rouge’s family was extremely over-the-top.

Immediately following that, everyone gathered around for another large dinner, during which Shadow only ate a little. And after too many more embarrassing stories, everyone gathered into a room to watch one of those cheesy Wintersweek romance movies that always came out in droves at this time of year.

Shadow said that they were all incredibly cookie-cutter style stories, each one following the exact same plot. Rouge claimed they were uplifting, fun stories and that she didn’t care if they were all the same. Omega liked to categorize all of the things that were wrong with them, so he was willing to sit with Rouge as she watched them.

The hybrid had scoffed cynically and walked away, filling the kitchen sink with water in the next room over and making a big deal out of clattering the plates around that he planned to wash.

Romance movies were so overrated.

Shadow could still see the screen through the doorway (not that he wanted to), and despite his wishes, the movie kept distracting him. He couldn’t stop himself from looking up to see what was going on.

It appeared to be a classic enemies to lovers story, as currently the shy young woman with a rock band shirt- who also happened to be the main star (cliche alert)- was glowering furiously at the trendy, popular blonde movie star. Who was, of course, berating the main character for her poor customer service.

At a coffee shop.

Shadow sighed loudly.

And of course, just as he’d suspected (he wasn’t paying that much attention to the movie all these films were the same really) they both ended up competing. In a Wintersweek cooking competition.

The movie star was confident she would win. Her film crew was ever-present, taking all the best shots of her as she ‘worked’.

Obviously, the main character was determined to beat her through hard work and skill. She was fully prepared to show this star just who she was dealing with…

...and all that and so on. Shadow rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the soapy water.

And then (this movie was like every single other one!!) their partners both came down with an illness that wiped out several other competitors as well. So naturally they were forced to work together. And of course they worked well, too.

(Shadow had stopped working on the dishes by now. Somewhere around here, he’d forgotten to look away.)

By the time these two had begun to look past each other’s flaws and see the real person beneath them, his eyes were riveted to the screen. It was still bad, he told himself, even as he watched every move they made. It was still bad.

They were working together now, smiling slowly and talking quickly and sometimes, occasionally, laughing. The obligatory hands-touching-by- accident scene happened. The two looked into each other’s eyes.

Shadow couldn’t decide how he felt anymore. Confusing emotions swirled inside him.

The kiss scene. (He saw it coming a mile away.)

The awkwardness. (Just to build up the tension.)

Their lips meet. (And a little voice deep down inside Shadow whispers…

 ...that feels right.)

The hybrid didn’t move a muscle for the next several minutes of the movie, refusing to miss a moment.

The couple won the competition. Of course, he thought, some form of rational thought returning to him. That was to be expected.

As the movie ended on their celebratory kiss, Shadow began, strangely, to feel as though someone had just punched him in the chest. When the credits rolled, he left, walking away from the movie, trying to get rid of this strange sensation.

He heard the click of Rouge’s high heels follow a minute after. And then the stomp of Omega’s ironclad steps.

Folding his arms, he tried to project an I-don’t-care attitude. Unfortunately for him, Rouge and Omega could a) tell that he was projecting said attitude and b) figured out quickly what he was really thinking. Curses.

“Was it the movie?” Omega asked bluntly.

The only acknowledgment Shadow gave was a slight twitch of his shoulders up and down.

“Did you hate it?” Rouge questioned.

Again, just a twitch of the shoulders.

They both studied him for a second.

“No…” the bat whispered, her teal-shadowed eyes widening. “No, you liked it! You liked it!”

“I did not!” Shadow spat furiously, more venom than he’d intended finding its way into his voice.

“You did.” Omega said. It wasn’t a question.

“I mean…” he sighed, looking away. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

“Come on, Shadow…” Rouge said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Please?” Omega asked.

The hybrid groaned. “I...it was just- it wasn’t good, are we clear? It was just sappy. But. If you insist. I suppose...romance...argh. I can’t say it!”

“It’s okay, hon, just be patient.” Rouge said soothingly.

“Ugh...I mean...I’ve never dated someone before. Is it...really that nice?” Shadow muttered. His eyes narrowed, daring them to taunt him.

Omega looked at him, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “You want to date someone?”

“Wh-no, not like that! I- I mean...not just anyone…” he sputtered.

“So you’ve got someone in mind, then?” Rouge smirked at him, raising a brow.

“No!” he snapped, his eyes wide. “I- just meant- promise me you’ll never set me up on a blind date, are we clear?”

“Promise.” she said. “And I’m not crossing my fingers, either.” The bat waved both of them in front of her to demonstrate.

“However, we will force you to converse with others at future social events.” Omega declared. “I have heard that this is the first step in a successful relationship.” 

Shadow scowled, but without any real heat. “Don’t you dare.”

Rouge giggled. “No more sulking edgily in the corner for you, emo-hog!”

He groaned. “Are you both turning against me? Really?”

“Of course we are.” Omega remarked. “That is exactly what family is for.”

“I don’t know whether to feel flattered or irritated.” Shadow grumbled.

“Flattered. Definitely~.” Rouge quipped with a wink.

“Ugh. Well, I’m going to bed now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” he sighed, stalking out of the room.

“Aw, come on, Shadow!” the bat said teasingly. “Don’t you want to watch the sequel?”

The hybrid spun around so fast his quills nearly sliced up the doorway. “I’m sorry, the what now?”

“The sequel.” Omega repeated flatly. “You know you do.”

He hesitated.

“Fine.” Shadow growled through gritted teeth, his hands occasionally clenching into fists. “But only if I get to run commentary with Omega.”

“Sounds fair!” Rouge chirped, flying off with the other two right behind her.

As they walked away, Shadow in the back, he allowed himself a small, secret smile. They truly cared about him, and he knew they only wanted to see him happy. The teasing was all their way of showing affection. His eyes began to glimmer softly with a faint hint of happiness as fond thoughts and memories drifted through his mind. One sentence, though, stood out above all the rest.

I love my family.

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #team dark: a holiday special #team dark #several other things i should probably mention: #please please please don't sled down a hill while lying down #you might crash into a tree #only do so if you are on top of a sentient robot that can steer for you #also i will give omega ALL of the cool upgrades #you can't stop me #and i do hope shadow's not too ooc #i tried my best (even looked up character analyses) but he's SO DIFFICULT to write well #hope you enjoyed! #there's one more part left now- we can't leave our favorite gem thief out! #sol's fanfiction

[rosewood-liars]

I’m disappointed that the producers of the PLL TV Series wrote out the fact Hanna is canonically Jewish even if she is non - practicing and had a blended tradition family ( Ashley Marin is not to my knowledge also Jewish ). There’s a whole scene in the books where Tom tries to bond with Hanna again, recognizes that the christmas celebrations are bumming her out & makes it up to her by celebrating Hanukkah. ( I’ll probably transcribe that encounter from the companion novel at the end of this post. ) 

 I mean, maybe I should not be as upset by this as I am - because I’m not religious and have never been Jewish ever in my life. 

However, I’ve also had experienced the frustration and big sad™ when something that me and a loved one did together was discarded and this just doesn’t set well with me. 

( I think I will make more references to this ( even if she is non - practicing ) as a nod to the fact Hanna felt it was important enough to mention to Isabel during the Christmas party. ) 

First Reference: 

Hanna drove slowly the rest of the way home, taking deep, cleansing breaths. After gunning the car up her family’s driveway, she nearly crashed into a line of vehicles she didn’t recognize. There had to be about fifteen sedans, SUVs, and crossovers parked in the circular drive. Then she noticed something blinking by the garage. Christmas lights. And was that a glow-in-the-dark Santa and an inflatable gingerbread man in the front yard? She took tentative steps toward the house. Dot, wearing some kind of bizarre headpiece, yipped at her feet when she walked inside. Wait. Were those reindeer antlers? Hanna scooped him up and stared at the two plush stalks on his head. Each was tipped with a tiny jingle bell. “Who did this to you?” Hanna whispered, ripping them off. Dot just licked her face. She looked around the living room and gasped. Holly leaves snaked around the banister. A mechanical Mrs. Claus waved from the console table that had once held Hanna’s mother’s austere ceramic vases. A tall, tinsel-laden tree stood in the corner, and the fireplace, which Hanna couldn’t remember the family ever using, was ablaze. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” played on the stereo at maximum volume, and the whole house smelled like honey-glazed ham. “Hello?” Hanna called out. Laughter floated out from the kitchen, first Isabel’s goose-honk chortle, then her dad’s booming guffaw. Hanna rounded the corner. The kitchen was packed with people holding champagne flutes and appetizer plates filled with mini quiches and wedges of Brie. Many of them wore Santa hats, including Hanna’s dad. Isabel stood in the corner, wearing a red velvet dress tipped with Mrs. Claus white fur on the cuffs and hem, and Kate had on a tight-fitting red jersey sheath and black-and-white Kate Spade heels. Mistletoe hung from the chandelier, a carafe of mulled cider sat on the counter, and plates and plates of the most delicious-looking Christmas cookies and appetizers filled the island. Isabel spied Hanna and glided over. “Hanna! Feliz Navidad! O Tannenbaum! Merry Christmas!” Hanna sniffed. “Um, actually, I’m Jewish. And so is my father.” Isabel blinked dumbly, like she couldn’t comprehend that anyone, let alone her own fiancé, could celebrate anything other than Christmas. Mr. Marin appeared at Isabel’s side. “Hey, sweetie,” he said, ruffling Hanna’s hair. Hanna stared at him incredulously. “Since when do you celebrate Christmas?” She said the word like she might have said Satan’s birthday. Mr. Marin crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’ve been celebrating it with Isabel and Kate for the past few years. I told Kate to tell you.” “Well, she didn’t,” Hanna said flatly. “We do the Twelve Days of Christmas every year. We always kick it off with a bash.” Isabel took a sip of champagne. “It’s a wonderful tradition. We started early this year with tonight—kind of a housewarming-meets-Christmas thing.” “And we’d like you to be a part of the tradition too, of course,” Mr. Marin added. Hanna stared at all of the red and green paraphernalia. Her family had never been that religious, but they lit menorah candles every night of Hanukkah. On Christmas Day, they ordered Chinese takeout, watched movie marathons, and went on a long family bike ride if the weather was decent. She liked those traditions.

Second Mention: 

She pulled into the driveway of her house, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and watch hours and hours of bad TV. Strangely, her father’s car was still in the driveway—not at Longwood Gardens. And the Christmas decorations that had festooned the front of the property were gone. When she opened the front door, it no longer smelled like fresh pine and cinnamon sticks but more like . . . potato pancakes? “Hanna!” Mr. Marin appeared from the kitchen. “There you are! Come in, come in! We have a surprise for you!” He whisked Hanna through the living room, but not before she noticed that the mechanical Mrs. Claus had vanished, the Christmas tree was unlit, and the stockings that had hung over the fireplace—there were monogrammed ones for Isabel, Kate, and Hanna’s dad, and a blank one presumably for Hanna—had been taken down. The old silver menorah Bubbe Marin had given Hanna’s parents sat on the mantel. Three candles blazed. “What’s going on?” Hanna asked suspiciously. Mr. Marin turned Hanna toward the dining room. There was a huge spread of food on the table, and Kate and Isabel were sitting in high-backed chairs, tepid smiles on their faces. “Surprise!” Mr. Marin crowed. “Happy Hanna-kah!” Hanna blinked at the items on the table. There were all the traditional Hanukkah foods her grandmother used to serve: latkes, jelly donuts called sufganiyot, kugel, chocolate coins, and a large brisket. Off to the side were the old dreidels she and her cousins had spun for hours, turning the game into a kind of truth or dare—if the dreidel fell on the gimel side, Tamar, her younger cousin, had to steal a dollar out of her mother’s wallet, and so on. A blue foil banner with Star of David cutouts was draped across the windows, and candles glowed around the room. Small gifts wrapped in silver paper sat on everyone’s plates. “I thought you guys were going to Santa’s Village,” Hanna said slowly. “Oh, we can do that any day,” Mr. Marin said. “I thought you might be a little upset since we’re doing so many Christmas activities, so we thought we’d celebrate our holiday tonight! Hanukkah—or Hanna-kah!” He gestured to the food on the table. “Kate and Isabel did some baking this evening, though some of this came from the kosher deli near Ferra’s Cheesesteaks.” “Your dad says you know all of the Hanukkah stories, Hanna,” Isabel said politely. “I’d love to hear them.” “This is all so nice.” Hanna’s heart expanded, just like the Grinch’s. This was definitely the nicest thing her dad had done for her in a long, long time. Her father passed around plates, and everyone began serving themselves latkes and pieces of brisket bathed in sauce. Hanna took a moderate amount of food, feeling virtuous from boot camp. Wine was poured—even Hanna and Kate got some—and everyone opened their gifts. Kate and Hanna got gift cards to Fermata Spa. Isabel got a small Christmas tree–shaped charm to add to her silver Pandora bracelet. Mr. Marin had given himself a new Swiss Army knife. He immediately unfolded the scissors and cut the tag off of Isabel’s bauble. Then, Mr. Marin launched into stories about Bubbe Marin, who used to make the best potato pancakes in the world. “We used to go over there every night of Hanukkah,” he explained. “She’d always have huge gifts for Hanna.” “Isn’t that sweet,” Isabel trilled, looking surprised, as though she’d never imagined someone would shower Hanna with gifts. “And she had this African gray parrot, Morty,” Mr. Marin went on, spearing a latke. “He knew every swearword in the world.” “He was crazy!” Hanna giggled. “I think I learned some new ones from him!” “And he loved to watch those tabloid shows—what were they called?” Mr. Marin’s face was flushed. “E! News,” Hanna repeated. “He was obsessed with Giuliana Rancic. Remember? He said she was such a pretty bitch in that crazy bird voice!” “Who’s Giuliana Rancic?” Isabel asked, blinking quickly. Hanna’s father was too busy shaking with laughter to answer. Hanna laughed too, also not bothering to fill Isabel in. It felt nice to have an inside joke with her father again, something from their lives before Isabel and Kate. They continued eating, sharing stories about Hanna’s grandmother’s obsessions with yard sales, animal figurines, and her crush on Bob Barker from The Price Is Right. By the time the meal was over, Hanna and her dad kept bursting into laughter but not bothering to explain themselves. Isabel rose to clear the table, but Mr. Marin waved her to sit down. “I can clean up,” he said.

Third Reference: 

Now, Hanna sighed. After her new family had thrown Hanna a Hanukkah bone a few nights ago, everything had gone back to normal shortly afterward. The Twelve Days of Christmas nonsense had resumed, though Hanna had been able to get out of a lot of it because of boot camp.

#• What Fresh Hell Do We Have Today ??? Let's See ... • ( Dash Commentary. ) #• ... Maybe I Shoulda Kept My Enemies Closer ? • ( Hanna Headcanon. )

[yvesdot]

My Purim post has blown up! Thank you so much for making my dream of being a Purim evangelist (?!) come true. And here are some replies to the replies to the post! Since we can’t do this like normal people anymore.

Firstly, a general thank you to the outpouring of positivity. Thank you to the non-Jews who have helped spread some cultural information, and thank you to the Jews who made me feel less alone celebrating Purim this year. And thank you to those expressing excitement that their favorite (Christian) Biblical heroine had a (Jewish) holiday! That was very sweet.

And now the distinct questions!

Many people asked in tags: What’s the appropriate greeting?

“Happy Purim” does just fine! In Hebrew we might say “Purim sameach” because it means the same thing.

@captainqueeg, who is tragically untaggable, replied:

This is not the first time this week I’ve heard a ‘you should start celebrating purim’, can I ask, who is that directed at? I’ve never met a Jewish person who doesn’t know about Purim. Do you mean non Jews should take it up?

This is a great question!

Firstly, I have heard of Jewish people who do not know about Purim. Tragic, but it happens. This is usually the case for Jews who have less “Jewish education” or something like that; while general culture knows about Hanukkah, Purim’s relative lack of popularity means some Jews without access to specific Jewish education never do discover it. And that is tragic.

With regards to non-Jews: I would find it quite odd to celebrate it alone, yes. I have taken non-Jewish friends to Purim parties, though! And it was a fantastic time ^__^ I’d really like non-Jews simply to know about the holiday, and it would be very very cool to run into a non-Jewish person who knew what I was talking about when I talked about Esther. Of course, nobody has to; it’s just nice to have awareness when you talk about your culture. So my primary goal here was to spread knowledge; thanks for asking for clarification.

In addition to that, many Christians in my notes were excited to hear that a favorite Biblical heroine had a holiday! My primary goal was to spread the word.

I noticed a couple people had this concern, which was interesting, because I’ve never really run into this IRL in any capacity. I suppose I don’t find it as much an issue because I’ve never seen it be one. We have enough to worry about ;^^

@kubaneh replied:

mordechai was esther's cousin :)

YES you are absolutely correct; my apologies. I noticed this in my translation/commentary the day of, but not the night of Purim. I was certain I’d get something wrong, and if it was this, I can live. 

Someone who will not be named because I blocked them replied:

By all means, get in on the fun if you're Jewish, in the conversion process, or invited to by a Jew. Judaism is a closed practice. And, beware of Chabad. My Jewish Learning is far more objective and inclusive!

Honestly baffled as well by OP's choice as a Jewish person to use an image with an inhumane skin color, red eyes, and pointed ears. So many antisemitic tropes!

To address the first concern: you can see what I’ve said above re: non-Jews celebrating Purim. 

To address the second: Chabad was the first site which came to mind to read the Megillah on, particularly with regards to simple navigation and commentary. A friend helpfully noted Sefaria, and I’m happy to provide that link as well. I find MJL extremely helpful when looking up questions of law across sects; Chabad is where I go for full Jewish texts. I don’t agree with everything posted on Chabad!

To address the third: This is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I wish you the absolute best.

#For concerned non-Jews: when I read this last I was so surprised I said out loud 'where are you getting your antisemitic stereotypes???' #Essentially none of these are actual antisemitic stereotypes. Don't be concerned. #txt

[actiobellicahq]

morning announcements #9

oh, hogwarts students, here we are on another glorious morning! the snow is falling, classes are winding down, ghosts are cuddling for warmth, you know what that all means - it’s almost time for our holiday break! we’re in the home stretch!

going on break soon doesn’t mean we don’t have room for more clubs on our roster! any and all are welcome to join. please, welcome these FOUR new clubs to our growing list: the divination club, the cat club, the book club, and the inventions club. 

in quidditch news from this past weekend: ravenclaw beat gryffindor with a score of 240-120, and slytherin beat hufflepuff with a score of 200-90! ravenclaw and slytherin are now tied for the quidditch cup with four points each, hufflepuff has three points, gryffindor has two points.

here’s a long awaited update of our house cup points! slytherin is currently in the lead with 1550 points, gryffindor is close behind in second with 1200, ravenclaw has third with 1180, and hufflepuff is in last with 880.

this is our last week before holiday break! please keep in mind, our last day of classes is friday, december 17th. the hogwarts express is leaving hogsmeade station promptly at 11am on saturday, december 18th. by then, the only students still at hogwarts should be those who have informed us they are staying over break. 

professor slughorn will be hosting his annual party on friday, december 17th! only those who have been invited may attend, though they are each allowed one date, so look around - if you’re interested in attending, you might want to try and suck up to somebody while you still have the chance!

the first day of hanukkah is on thursday, december 16th! happy hanukkah to all who celebrate! 

make sure to congratulate our very own antonin dolohov for winning the fall dueling tournament! 

lastly... as we’ve said several times already, this is the last week of classes of the year 1976. don’t go wild, please, we beg of you. you still have a full semester ahead of you once you return after break - think about future you. would your actions help them? if not, maybe rethink them!

ooc information:

as always, these are all just small announcements for world building & to give your characters something to talk about; you are by no means required to discuss any of this!

if you would like your character to join any of the new clubs, shoot the main a quick message!

*** if your character has had an in-game birthday and have now turned a year older, please message the main so we can update their age!!

if you ever have suggestions for small in-game announcements or events (maybe your character is hosting a little get-together, maybe they’re starting a new club, etc etc) feel free to message us and we can add it to the next morning announcements post!

we are now in the in-game week of december 12th - december 18th, 1976. CHECK OUT THE CALENDAR HERE!

keep your eyes opened for a post coming about the slug club christmas party! it isn’t going to be an event (we have events planned for over the holiday break!) but we’re gonna compile something small so those in attendance are all on the same page. 

regarding the holiday break, just a reminder, you are welcome to choose what your character is doing over break, whether it’s going home or staying at hogwarts! in interest of them being involved in the events we have planned, we recommend keeping them within travel-distance of the general u.k. area :-) 

#abannouncement

[harringtown]

i’ve got some people who carry me

merry christmas to all of those who celebrate it, happy hanukkah to those who celebrate it, and happy wednesday to those who dont celebrate at all! have some fluff anyways! a fluffy robin fic is also coming today!

Summary: the reader surprises Steve and the group on Christmas Eve (aka some good ol’ tooth-rotting fluff)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

-

The first Christmas after Starcourt was held at the Wheeler’s home, with an invitation extended to anyone and everyone who didn’t have anywhere else to go. The Byers drove in from Maine, taking over the basement, and on Christmas Eve, the downstairs room was stocked full of people. Joyce was upstairs with the Wheelers, the Sinclairs, and Dustin’s mom, having grown up time, whilst the kids and teens gorged themselves on cookies and eggnog downstairs.

You weren’t supposed to get into town for another three days - to be blamed on a storm that grounded flights near your college - and therefore, weren’t expected to show. But you weren’t about to miss the holidays, certainly not this one. The last place you wanted to spend Christmas was in an airport lobby, waiting for a plane that might never come. So, you’d hopped into your car and driven through the night, only stopping at your home to drop off your bags before heading to the Wheelers.

The adults showered you in merry christmases and how are yous and hugs before sending you down the stairs, where your friends waited. You stopped halfway down, happiness swelling in your chest at the sight of the party downstairs. Max, El, Mike, and Lucas were unwrapping candy canes from the tree and creating mini shivs, Dustin and Will enveloped in what looked to be a spirited discussion about eggnog with Jonathan, and Nancy and Robin were giggling uncharacteristically as they sipped said eggnog. Their cups, you guessed, had been spiked.

And then there was Steve, readjusting the star on top of the tree, brows furrowed and lips pulled thin in concentration as he balanced on a small ladder. He lost his balance for a beat and grabbed onto the wall to steady himself, free hand holding the star in place. Once it was steady, he held his hands up and shuffled around on the ladder to face the others.

“Third time’s a charm,” he said, “as long as no one else-” he looked pointedly at Robin and Nancy “-topples into the tree, we should be good.” His gaze skated over you, and rocketed back, his brows knitting together. His lips parted and he lost his balance once again, nearly falling off the ladder as he climbed down it and turned to face you.

“What the-” he started, only to be interrupted by Robin, who squealed and set her eggnog down, running to you and throwing her arms around you. The force of the hug rocked you backward, and you laughed as you held onto her, balancing you both. She smelled of vanilla, and most predominantly, alcohol, when she pulled back to smile at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” She exclaimed. Nancy moved in next, nudging Robin out of the way to hug you just as tight. She was just as off-kilter as Robin, the pair a bumbling, tipsy, giggly mess; a mess that you’d missed fiercely.

“You’re here! I thought the storm-”

“I said screw it and just drove.”

“Hell yeah, you did!” Robin said.

“Could we all stop hogging my girlfriend?” Steve asked, and you remembered suddenly who you’d come to surprise. You disentangled yourself from Robin and Nancy, who grabbed their cups and held their free hands up in surrender as they moved out of the way.

Steve had you wrapped up in his arms in seconds, smelling of pine trees and peppermint and something indescribably Steve. His hands were warm against your cold skin, drawing the ice out with every brush of a finger. He ducked his chin and buried his face in your neck, lips hot against your skin, stray hairs tickling your cheek.

“You’re here,” he murmured, quiet, only for your ears. You pulled back and cupped his cheeks in your hands, lips curling up in a smile.

“But your flight-”

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” you said. “Missed you too much.”

“Not as much as I missed you,” he said, ducking to press a kiss to your nose.

“It’s true,” Dustin said, eavesdropping as always, “he hasn’t shut up about you for…how long have you been gone?”

“Three months,” you replied, turning in Steve’s arms, his hands shifting to your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“He hasn’t shut about you for three months!”

“Oh, leave them alone. You’re just bitter your girlfriend couldn’t come,” Nancy teased. Dustin stuck his tongue out at her, mature as ever.

“Come on,” you said, pulling away from Steve and taking his hand, tugging him after you. “Your present is in the car.” You were accompanied by whistling from the others as you headed for the stairs, to which you flipped the bird to anyone watching. Steve followed you up the stairs and past the adults, even more intoxicated than they’d been last you passed them, and out into the cold. You stopped outside the door, porch illuminated by the soft yellow lights strung up around the doorframe, hanging over the edges of the roof. Steve continued for the car, but you held tight and he stopped, turning to face you with a frown.

“Your car-”

“Your present’s at my house,” you said. He was only confused for a beat more before a sly grin tugged on his lips and his hands found your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt and settling against the small of your back, cold - though not unpleasantly so - against your skin.

“Is it a good one?” He asked, arching his brows. You wound your arms around his neck and smiled, butterflies fluttering inside your belly, that tickle of nerves that had plagued you the entire drive flitting away, finally.

“It’s pretty good,” you said. “But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. My parents are hosting some party, and I won’t be able to get to the tree until all those drunkards are out of the way.”

Steve cocked his head and shifted closer, that wicked grin only widening.

“Sleepover?”

You scoffed.

“You’ve got to stop calling it that.”

“That’s what it is!”

“When we were eight!”

“Still a sleepover,” he said, bending down and brushing his lips against yours, gentle and careful. You rolled your eyes and pulled him in for another, resolve crumbling, the two of you pressed more closely together than was probably appropriate for the Wheelers front porch.

“I’ll come, if you promise to stop calling it that,” you said. “We should probably get back inside. Before they send a rescue party. And you know how that ended last year.”

Steve frowned, remembering the multiple snowballs he’d taken to the face, and nodded, reaching out to open the door back up, the warmth from inside the house pulsing out to greet you.

“No promises,” he said, taking your hand again. “But you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“You think you’re always right.”

“Oh, go inside,” you said, giving him a tiny shove. He smiled at you over his shoulder and you made your way back into the house, rejoining your friends downstairs. It was a motley crew, but it was yours. And you were finally home, at long last.

#brooke writes fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #christmas fic #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson

[fatbottombucky]

Dreidel *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

This is for @sexylibrarian1​ :) I don’t know if you’ve played Dreidel, I recommend looking into the rules and playing it with a few friends, I’m pretty sure me and my family play it kinda wrong... so, I’ve tried to go through the proper rules and it come across a bit weird cause I’ve also thrown in a few of my fam’s rules lol

Pairing: Bucky x [F]Reader (Jewish Reader)

Additional Characters: Sam Wilson & Wanda Maximoff 

Rating: [13+] Teen

Warnings: None, just fluffy goodness

“You sure they want to?” You asked your boyfriend in a whispered breath, gnawing at your bottom lip and holding the small pewter box. 

He lets slip a sigh, casting his azure eyes down at you, “Of course, they’re really excited to meet you and play this game.” 

You nod and smile slightly. The nerves didn’t leave you though, despite only hearing nice things about Bucky’s friends and, obviously, they’re Avengers so they’re bound to be nice. You still had this deep dread that they didn’t like you, that they would tell Bucky you’re not attractive or wrong for him. 

You’re just a normal person; not a superhero or a vigilante.  You met Bucky because of your friendship with Steve Rogers during the snappening, you went to the weekly meetings he held at the VA. You lost everyone during those five years, you tried to get through and your talks with Captain America sorta helped. 

Now you’re still trying to rebuild your old life, sure everyone is back but everything has changed. 

The best change has been Bucky, you still need to thank Steve for introducing you to him. It was a chance meeting, a weird one at that because Steve was suddenly old... well, looked old. But Bucky had captured your heart from the moment you met him, despite his initial awkward stage, once he warmed to you there was no going back.

Now you’re at the stage of meeting one another’s family and friends, granted that Buckys’s family is now his friends; the pressure was starting to get to you. You thought Bucky meeting your Jewish family was bad stress, meeting Bucky’s superhero family was worse.

“Stop worrying,” lips press to your temple, “they’re going to love you.” 

You let a small sigh, squeezing his hand lightly as he walked up the porch steps and watch as he opened the front door to Sam’s house. You raised an eyebrow as Bucky just lets himself in, he gives a cheeky smile over his shoulder as he leads you in. 

“Samwise?” Bucky yells you let out a short snicker before seeing the Falcon give his friend a disapproving look, “Door was unlocked, I’ve told you many times to lock it.” 

Sam only rolls his eyes, “Hi Y/N, I’m Sam,” he steps forward and holds his arms out for a hug, which you gladly accept whilst chuckling. “Happy Hanukkah,” you smile brightly as Sam does a proud, victorious smile at your reaction. 

“He only said that because I reminded him that you’re Jewish,” Bucky snickers and hugs Wanda tightly, allowing the girl to greet you briefly. 

“Still,” you begin, “It’s the sentiment that counts, James.” 

Sam only nods in agreement, “I’ll drink to that,” he downs half a cup of eggnog as you chuckle. 

You end up sitting in Sam’s living room, glasses of various hot drinks being consumed along with cookies shaped like trees. The movie It’s A Wonderful Life serving as background noise to the mindless chatter, Sam and Bucky deep in conversation about sports, yourself and Wanda in conversation about life. 

“Bucky tells me that you were alone during those five years,” Wanda smiles softly and you nod, “must’ve been rough, Clint doesn’t really talk about what happened during that time just because it’s… painful.” 

“I was lucky enough to find Steve a year in,” you smiled, “it was nice to just have a friend, I guess. All my family was snapped, there wasn’t much reason for my job. I ended up going to one of his meetings and then I kinda relied on it.” 

Wanda nodded, “Can’t imagine the holiday seasons were that fun. I mean, holidays without my brother are bad enough, but without everyone?” The mere thought of being alone makes the Maximoff girl shudder.

A deep exhale left you, you hardly celebrated any Jewish holiday during those years. It was hard to, especially without your family. You may not stick to your Jewish roots through the entire year, but during the holidays you kept up the traditions. 

“I got Steve to celebrate Hanukkah with me once,” Sam raised his eyebrows at that, “it wasn’t anything grand, we lit the Menorah and ate latkes, played a few games of Dreidel too. It was like a stripped back version of Hanukkah for me, probably, what my bubbe used to do back in her days- well, Steve’s also, but he isn’t Jewish.” 

You shake your head cursing yourself for rambling, meeting Bucky’s eyes who are sparkling with amusement at your little ramble. He looks like he’s about to say something but Sam breaks the silence before him, almost spilling the contents of his drink as he talks. 

“Dreidel, that’s the game you bought, right?” You nod once, “I’mma need a rundown of this game, also I’m incredibly competitive, so no cheating since you must know all the tricks.” He gives you a stern glare as he lowers himself to the floor, watching you open the small box you came with. 

You let slip a giggle, “It’s hard to cheat at Dreidel, my brother always found a way though, I still have no idea how.” Wanda gets comfortable beside Bucky’s legs, “rules are simple enough, I even brought along the Dreidel that has the translation on, so I won’t be able to cheat by making it up to better me.”

You start by pulling out chocolate coins, instantly grabbing Bucky’s attention, handing them out evenly till you all have 15 each. “Okay, start by placing one of your coins into the centre, we’ll do this every round,” Sam looks reluctant to let his piece go but he does once Bucky throws his into the pile. “Now I’ll spin the Dreidel, each letter means something,” you spin the Dreidel and it lands with a dull thud on Nun. “That means do nothing, so I do nothing, now it’s Wanda’s turn but first,” you throw a coin in and watch as everyone does the same. 

You watch as Wanda spins the Dreidel, also landing on Nun before it’s passed to Sam you each put a new coin. “We’ll do this till someone runs out or wins all the coins, by the way,” Sam already looks tense as he counts his remaining coins. His spin lands on Shin, “you have to put in two coins,” the disbelief on his face is priceless.” 

Bucky takes his turn, “Hay,” he smiles triumphantly, “take half the pot!” 

The little chuckle that emits from the Winter Soldier is priceless, pulling the chocolate coins towards him with a smirk that sets the Falcon off. 

“Every game. I swear, every game we play,” Sam sulks, even though he hasn’t even lost, yet. 

“There’s still a chance for you to get Gimel, that means everything in the pot,” you try to defuse the situation- and it works… briefly. 

By the end of the first game, Bucky was winning, not even caring to hide his laugh as Sam kept getting Shin or Nun. The second game, that was mostly for Sam, it was an equal playing field. By the third game, it was just between the two, yourself and Wanda sat and watched, laughing and mostly rooting for Sam- much to Bucky’s dismay. 

“That game,” Sam sighed as he walked you and Bucky to his door, “you have to bring it to the new Avengers HQ,” you nod with a grin, “I’m totally gonna kick T’Challa’s ass at it.” He hugs you goodbye. 

“Have a good Christmas, Sammy,” he gives you a mock glare but a smile is hidden beneath as he waves you down the path. 

The walk back to your place is silent, your hand is in Bucky’s once again and you're swinging them as you walk, a bright grin plastered on your face despite the cold, frosty night air. 

“I told you,” Bucky breaks the silence, pulling you slightly into his side and letting go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist, “they love you. Almost as much as I do,” that makes your heart flutter, even though you’ve heard those words before. 

“Didn’t think Sam would get that competitive at Dreidel, honestly.” 

Bucky chuckles, throwing his head back, “You’ve opened a can of worms with that one, I suspect he’s gonna buy his own to practice,” you let out a snort but you could totally see that happening. 

“Says you,” Bucky looks down at you, “you got the exact same when playing against my dad last week.” 

“And I still have yet to beat him, he’s really good at it,” Bucky sighs lightly, “One day. One day I will beat him at Dreidel, he won’t let me marry you till I prove that,” it’s clearly a joke but the seriousness of his voice makes you doubled over in laughter. “You laugh but in twenty years time when I still haven’t asked you, it’s because of that game.” 

You calm down and kiss his cold cheek softly, still giggling against his stubbly jaw. “You still gotta get through Rosh Hashanah, you missed this year due to being a superhero, next year… you’ll see. Next year we’ll go full Jewish, I’m willing to be super Christmasy with you this year.” 

Bucky only smiles down at you, he tightens his hold around your waist. He doesn’t really mind what you celebrate, the fact you picture spending the next year with him makes his heart fill with joy.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #sam wilson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #marvel imagines #avenger imagines

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Green Arrow’s EA

Staring at the small clock at the edge of the desk, Felicity willed time to just pass more quickly. The more she wanted time to fly by, the more it felt like the hands of the clock were slowing down even more though. The last thirty minutes had felt like an eternity already. The next thirty were probably going to feel even longer.

The soft knock at the door made Felicity lift her gaze. The sight of Emily’s corny Christmas pullover with the reindeer and the blinking red nose tickled another smile from her. It was never different when she saw her Executive Assistant in that or any other pullover that she was wearing around Christmas time. There was just something really amusing about that look.

“Why exactly did I decide to work these two days between Hanukkah and Christmas again?” Felicity asked. “I feel like I didn’t do anything productive today.”

Emily smiled. “I think you wanted to establish company holidays from the first day of Hanukkah to the third of January, but the board decided against it. They said it was too long and exaggerated given the Holiday bonus you are paying.”

“And since when exactly do I care what the board says?” Felicity asked, narrowing her eyes. “Because I can’t remember when I start caring.”

“I doubt that you ever cared or ever will care,” Emily replied, her smile turning into a proud grin as she loved her boss’s rebellious side, “but you couldn’t attend the board meeting to the end, so it got kind of forgotten.”

Felicity puckered her lips. Now that Emily had reminded her, she remembered. She had indeed suggested this during a meeting with the board. Before her idea could have been discussed to the end, she had been needed at the bunker though. The last weeks had been exhausting. Felicity felt like she had just rushed through the days.  She had simply forgotten about her plan.

“Screw the board,” Felicity said and dropped her pen to the desk, “we will call it a day. Please call every department and tell them that we will close early for the holidays. It’s a paid leave of course. Everyone should be at home and prepare for Christmas or use the time recover from Hanukkah or just spend time doing whatever the hell they want if they aren’t celebrating any holidays. Either way, nobody should be here.”

“Gladly.” Emily smiled widely, happy about the unexpected turn since she had mentioned before that she wasn’t done shopping the gifts for Christmas yet. “There is a visitor for you though.”

“A visitor?” Felicity perked up her eyebrows and shot a brief glance at her schedule, but she hadn’t had any appointments planned for today. “Who?”

“Mr. Christian Rodgers,” Emily replied, “he said he needed to talk to you about a rather private matter.”

Felicity frowned. She tried to figure out if the name should ring a bell, but she couldn’t say that she remembered anyone with that name. There wasn’t even the slightest familiarity to it though.

“Ask him in, please.”

Emily nodded her head and turned onto her heels, walking outside. Felicity shot another brief glance on her watch before she got up and walked around her desk.

“Mrs. Queen is waiting for you,” Felicity heard Emily’s voice, “please go right in.”

“Thank you.”

Felicity tried to make any connection between that warm voice and the name, but there was nothing she could remember. Even the face wasn’t familiar. If Felicity knew Mr. Rodgers, she was sure that she’d remember him. There was something about his face that reminded him of her maternal grandfather, not that she had ever met him. She had just seen photos.

“Mrs. Queen, thank you for your time that soon before the holidays,“ Mr. Rodgers said, shaking her hand, “I am sure you have a busy schedule.”

“Actually, I was just calling it a day,” Felicity explained with a smile and gestured towards the seating area, “because working between the holidays is just so annoying.”

Mr. Rodgers chuckled and sat down on the black leather couch across the table. Felicity crossed her legs and leaned back. She watched her visitor quietly for a moment. He was fidgeting with his hands nervously, avoiding her eyes. He looked nervous and insecure.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Rodgers?”

Mr. Rodgers lifted his gaze towards her. He still looked nervous like the bare thought of talking to her unsettled him. Felicity smiled at him softly though, hopefully giving him the courage to speak. Even if she couldn’t do anything for him at the end, she didn’t want him to think that she would eat him alive. Something told him he was kind of a good guy.

“My sister-in-law, Amelia Rafferty, was murdered last month,” he said after taking in a deep breath, “she was just found dead in her home one morning.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly, unsure what to say or where this was going. She faintly remembered that she had read about that case a couple of days ago. The police had done what they could, but they hadn’t been able to find out who was responsible for her death. Felicity didn’t remember anything about the case or the circumstances surrounding her death.

Mr. Rodgers did look honestly sad about his family’s loss. His hands rubbed together between his thighs and his shoulders sank.

“I am very sorry,” she whispered, “that’s terrible.”

“She was killed with two shots to her chest,” Mr. Rodgers continued, his smile breaking, “the police said it looked like it was done by a professional killer.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly. Two shots to the chest required a really cold-blooded killer or a fight that had caused someone to act on impulse. If the police suggested that it was the first, she was sure they were right. Usually, the latter was more obvious, so there had to be reasons that the police still suspected a professional killer was responsible.

“I just don’t understand how that’s possible,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “Amelia was such a wonderful person. She has never gotten into any troubles with anyone. She was the easiest person to be around, someone who held no grudges and was happy when the people around her were happy. She was a really good person.”

When a good person died that cruelly, it was always terrible. It was unexpected for everyone around her, leaving those people closest to her devastated and with broken trust into the world. In a fair world, bad things wouldn’t happen to good people.

“My wife is devastated,” Mr. Rodgers added and shook his head with a sad smile, “she lost her parents at young age. Amelia was the only family she had left after that. Now she has lost her too. It’s… I am worried about her.”

Once again, Felicity nodded her head. When Sara had died once again, Laurel had been devastated. Despite all the differences between the two sisters, losing Sara had been almost unbearable for Laurel. They had stuck together through so much in their childhood, youth and after Sara’s return after the Gambit. Their relationship had been so deep, and her death had seemed to pointless.

What had helped Laurel was finding out why Sara had been killed. Just like it had helped Nyssa. Although Sara’s death had still been devastating and the circumstances surrounding her death had caused a lot of chaos for the Lances and the Queens, knowing who was responsible for it had at least helped everyone to direct their anger in the right direction. It had helped them to recover from their loss, at least a little.

Felicity shook her head slightly, shaking off the thought of Sara’s death. This wasn’t about her or the Arrow Family. She just didn’t know what else it was about.

“Your sister-in-law’s death is tragic, and I don’t want to be insensitive to that,” Felicity said, clearing her throat, “but I don’t understand what exactly you expect me to do now.”

That questions seemed to be the very trigger for the Mr. Rodger’s nervousness. He moved back and forth on the couch, rubbing his sweaty hands along his thighs. His eyes were taking her in intensely, but his smile gave away how insecure he felt in this moment.

“The police told us that they wouldn’t continue to investigate this case,” Mr. Rodgers explained with a shake of his head, “because there are no leads to follow. There is no motive. There are no traces. There is nothing that could help.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly, telling him that she understood and listened. She still didn’t see where this was going, but she had an open ear nonetheless. If she could help this family to find a little bit of peace before the holidays, she’d do it.

“I have been to the police station yesterday to try and convince them to continue. Captain Hall was great. She took her time and listened to me, and she explained to me why it doesn’t make sense. She assured me that they would still follow every lead if there was any, but there was nothing left to be done right now. She was honestly sorry.”

A small smile spread on Felicity’s lips. Mr. Rodger’s had all reason to hold grudges against the SCPD and everyone working there. That McKenna had managed to prove that the decision hadn’t been easy for her looked like a good sign. Quentin must have chosen wisely when he had suggested her as his successor.

“On my way out, a cop took me aside and told me that maybe the Green Arrow could help.”

Felicity could almost hear the little alarm bells in her head starting to ring. She had thought that a warm and grandpa-like face as his couldn’t mean any harm. Now she wondered if maybe she had been wrong. It wasn’t the first time that people noticed her connection to the Green Arrow and used it to threaten them.

“He also said that if I wanted to get in touch with him, maybe you were the one to help me with it,” Mr. Rodgers explained, “so I wanted to ask you to contact him for me and ask if he can do something to find out who did this? My family would forever be grateful.”

Felicity felt every inch of her body tensing the more Mr. Rodger’s spoke. Maybe she had been wrong and he wasn’t the good person she had seen in him. Maybe all his talk about his sister-in-law and how much his wife was suffering hadn’t been true. Maybe it had all been made up to break down her reserve.

It’s been a while since they had been hunted by the police or anyone else the last time. Maybe all the police had been trying to do was making them think they were safe while they were secretly going after them. Without Quentin at the head of SCPD to inform them about what they were planning, all Felicity could do was trusting her stomach and that told her that something was fishy here.

“Who exactly told you this?”

Felicity leaned back slightly and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She tried to buy some time with her question. The thought that maybe Nick had sent Mr. Rodgers here crossed her mind at least briefly though. So far, there was still a chance that her worry was without reason.

“Officer Juan Alvarez.”

Apparently, it hadn’t been her brother’s idea to send her here. There were just two possibilities. Either Mr. Rodgers was lying and this was a set-up, or Felicity’s connection to the Green Arrow was, in the words of Professor Dumbledore, a complete secret, so, naturally, the entire city knew. Felicity didn’t know which one should make her panic less.

Felicity had been taken to the interrogation room to answer questions about the Hood once. Quentin had basically caught her on the street and taken her to the SCPD. She had been so nervous and so scared. Still, she had kept her mouth shut because she had known exactly what she had been fighting for.

By now, Felicity knew even better that what she and the team were doing was right. She didn’t have any doubt about it, and she would feel a lot safer if she answered questions about him now. With the thought of all those people that would lose their jobs and the children that would lose their parents if she spilled anything or if she trusted the wrong person.

When Susan Williams had blackmailed them, causing Oliver to turn himself in, their entire life had been turned upside down. Felicity wasn’t sure if their family could go through something like that, especially with a good ending like they had had. They’d been lucky once, but twice? Felicity wasn’t sure, and she really couldn’t tempt faith like that.

“Maybe those rumors were wrong,” Mr. Rodgers suddenly said, clearing his throat, “I am very sorry that I bothered you, Mrs. Queen. Happy Holidays to you and your family.”

Felicity watched Mr. Rodgers getting up and tightening the belt of his coat around his middle. He shot he a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes that were filled with sadness and defeat. She had been his last hope, and she had turned him down.

With one last smile in her direction, he turned around and walked towards the door. Felicity managed to watch him take exactly three steps before she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Wait.”

Usually, Felicity had a good feeling for people. Of course she wasn’t without mistake, but her stomach told her whether or not to trust someone most times. She might have her blind spots, especially when it came to heartbreaking stories like this one, but Oliver had once told her that her belief in the good in people was one of the many reasons that he loved her so much. Her faith in people balanced his mistrust.

Mr. Rodgers had turned around and was looking at her with eyes full of hope now. Felicity should be damned if she was wrong about him. She wouldn’t turn into someone that doubted everyone around her out of fear. Fear would never be the emotion to run her actions.

“I can’t promise anything,” Felicity said, “but I will do my best to make it work.”

→ → → → →

Under Oliver’s vigilant eyes, Felicity walked back and forth in her working area of the bunker. She was gesturing wildly with her hands while she was telling him everything that had happened in her office before. Oliver was listening closely, keeping his arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyes narrowed down on her slightly.

“So,” Felicity said eventually, “what do you say?”

She stepped towards Oliver, putting her hands to his forearms. She leaned her body against him completely and looked at him intensely. No matter how many doubts she had had before, she was sure now that Mr. Rodger’s story was honest. He really just wanted her to contact the Green Arrow to make piece with what had happened to his sister-in-law.

“Maybe she just knew something that she wasn’t supposed to know,” Felicity continued, shrugging her shoulders, “or maybe she had a secret double-life. I know I could look into it myself, but it would be so much easier if you helped me.”

Oliver looked at her for a moment longer before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her even more against him. He frowned slightly, cocking his head.

“Have I ever turned you down if you asked me for something?”

“Repeatedly,” Felicity replied without hesitation, “when I ask for junk food for dinner.”

Oliver chuckled, brushing his lips against hers. Amusement was sparkling in his eyes when he leaned back a little to look at her.

“Of course I will help you,” he said instead of answering to her little mention of junk food because he just knew that it would get them into trouble, “we can look into it tonight.”

“Good.” Felicity nodded her head. “Sounds great.”

Continuing to look at Oliver, Felicity could see the furrow forming between his eyebrows. She frowned and lifted a hand to his forehead. Her fingertips stroked against the furrow in an attempt to smooth it out. No matter how firmly or how often her fingers stroked against the little crease in Oliver’s skin, it didn’t disappear though.

“What’s going on?” she asked, locking eyes with him. “Why are you looking like that?”

“Because I am worried,” Oliver replied firmly, “it really doesn’t sit well with me that people make a connection between you and the Green Arrow.”

Felicity cocked her head, chuckling softly. She put her hand to Oliver’s cheek and stroked her fingertips through his short stubble. Oliver almost purred like a kitten at the touch. He rested his face into her hand and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked so incredibly at piece that Felicity couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s almost like in old times,” she said eventually, prompting Oliver to open his eyes again, “when I was your EA.”

“The good old times.”

Pursing her lips, Felicity punched his side playfully. Even if she used all her strength, she doubted that Oliver would even flinch. He was used to fight trained assassins. Everything she could do was like a little tickle in his experience.

“What was that for?”

Oliver rubbed his side, pretending to be hurt by her little punch. He was a father of five, so he knew exactly how to react to that kind of teasing.

“Because you said that those times were good,” she told him pointedly, shaking her head, “there was nothing good about those times. I was way overqualified for the job.”

“Of course you were,” Oliver replied easily, rubbing his hands up and down her arms gently, “but we spent almost every minute of every day together and I had a great view on your ass.”

Felicity chuckled, resting her forehead against Oliver’s shoulder for a moment. If she remembered something about her time as his EA, it was that she had been terribly annoyed by the littler work she had managed to do. She had let out all of her frustration at him because he had been the one who had gotten her into this situation. The passive aggressiveness had run high between them.

When Felicity angled her head back again eventually, looking at Oliver with a soft smile, she could see that his thoughts were still at the risk of security for their family.

“If people make a connection between you and the Green Arrow,” Oliver said slowly, “it’s only a matter of time until you are made a target for the police or criminals.”

Felicity continued to stroke her fingers through Oliver’s stubble. She hoped that it relaxed him at least half as much as it relaxed her.

“It was easier if they made that kind of connection between the Green Arrow and the mayor,” Oliver said slowly, the expression in his eyes turning blank although they were still directed at her, “and if he was used to get into touch with the vigilantes.”

Frowning slightly, Felicity watched Oliver. Soon, her lips spread into a smile.

“You’ve got an idea,” she stated, seeing it in Oliver’s eyes, “you know how to solve it.”

“Maybe,” Oliver replied, looking at her, “but I could need your help.”

“Always.”

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza​ @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles​ @addictiontelly​ @queens-of-arrows​ @memcjo​ @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog​ @oswinelevenforever​ @olicitylovemaking​ @bandanab310​ @mymusiclove101​ @lynslogic​ @scarletqueen23​ @olicityshipper19​ @alex-wesley​ @arrows-4ever​ @unabashedlynerdypatrol​ @louehmysoul​ @ligiapimenta​ @chattyyana​ @charlie-leau​ @coal000​ @samcrowleys​ @ishippolivia​ @julianegomesqueen​ @malafle​ @miriam1779​ @charlinert​ @melaux​ @ontheolicityship​ @myshipperlife​ @wrightainsley​ @lexi9515​ @ladygreenwood​ @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl​ @morinamel​ @mje-thomas​ @kebarry​ @canadianheartgirl​ @nannett2307​ @almondblossomme​ @kathrynelizabeth89​ @imdfabulous​ @mrt2501​ @arsipaci14​ @salasvia​ @brandis91​ @cainc3​ @morganmiguess​ @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl​ @iamisalima​ @nessafrancis-blog​ @jonhdiggle​ @niki-is-amazing​ @universed-posts​ @hopeful-warrior​ @senoritaswiftie​ @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel​ @iheartarrow​ @olicityovereverything​ @oliverfel4​ @olicity-in-the-heart​ @fullychippedcreation​ @geemarie​ @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld​ @tjmartinez​ @pleasantfanandstudent​ @j69confessional2​ @scentedcolorpirate​ @icanica74​ @tjmartinez98​ @certainmentalityface​ @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin​ @missafairy​ @letsplaymurde-r​ @lipizette​ @positivepiper​ @nuttymilkshakehologram​ @laksagirl​ @turnupthemusicandscream​ @pumpernickle93​ @onceuponanolicity​ @1106angel​ @jaspertown​ @fadinglands​ @morganashimi83​ @mochababychristy​ @omglovechrissie​ @mariejr88-blog​ @thetaufactor​ @onceuponanolicity​ @speakandseethetruth​ @bri206​ @aglasgo​ @geemarie​ @pineprincess​ @nerdgirljen​ @eternal-olicity14​ @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay​ @lovelycssefan​ @tsseract​ @flowerandsunshine​ @dcnmarvelgamergeek​ @blondeeoneexox​ @monetsmark​ @bb-olicity​ @mashamarty​ @rulerofsilence​ @erika-amber​ @nothingmorethanmyotps​ @kayleenyc​ @tonto16​ @olicityfluv​ @olicitea1990​ @haahaaa2408​ @pattid1​ @faegal04​ @24karatgem​ @wrldtravler​ @readerkas​ @olicity-beliver​ @greencoffeecups​ @snorlaxishere​

(If you want to be tagged or untagged, just let me know. :))

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

[clumsyclifford]

i'm glad astronomy went fine!! also i saw you finished your paper and even turned it in early!! very happy for you 😊 oh i was wondering though when does your next semester start? i'm very confused by your times bc mine are very different

that's absolutely fine!! and that was very correct though we're approaching the third advent already now but i think that's bc i took very long to answer 😅 thank you 😊 can't wait to watch part 3 tomorrow

i really don't think i'll use that url but i like having it saved anyway 🙈

also may i ask how you celebrate hanukkah? and i really hope your presents will all arrive on time 😊 -fiancee

THANK YOU!!!!! a FULL DAY EARLY who even am i. i don’t know but i love and respect the hell out of her

uhhh let me check! okay spring semester starts on february 1st for me. it varies between schools but most of them are around that time

well i wish you a happy and relaxed THIRD advent!! that’s today right? i hope? either way enjoy the movie <3

oh yes!!! well we do all the traditional stuff, we light candles every night and sing fun hanukkah songs and some nights we open presents. we usually do one night of dreidel and also one night for charities, which is a thing that my parents do with us where they pick out a bunch of charities and then we (kids) get like a hundred dollars each to divvy up between whichever ones we want to donate to. i think that’s a my-family thing not a typical hanukkah tradition but i like it. and ofc we have latkes and i WISH we had sufganiyot (donuts) but that’s not something we tend to do. though maybe i can convince someone to come to dunkin with me at some point bc i would kill for a decent jelly donut (the typical sufganiya). mmmm i’m trying to think of other hanukkah traditions but those are the main ones i think !!!! yeah 😊 it’s a nice time

#my present for my brother has arrived!!! #and......let me go check my email for updates on the others lol #ive ordered Lots of things recently so i have to sort through #ok the present for my older sister should arrive between the 15-18. which is kinda annoyingly late but all of those days are still technica #oh SICK and one of the things for my younger sister should get here in the next couple days #the other thing.......hmmm..........AHA it will arrive by the 17th #okay so cutting it close but still technically all hanukkah #awesomesauce thank you for asking fiancee #bc it made me go check #and now i know #anyway i'm really really really excited to give these gifts out i think they will go over well #i HOPE #thank u for asking i am very......i love hanukkah and i wish it was as big as christmas but which like i know is insane but you know #it's just! yeah!!! there's so much not-hanukkah and yeah #anyway love you #fiancee anon #anonymous #ask #answered

[cajunroe]

sledgefu + celebrating holidays together 
↳ though they’ve been together for a few years, gene and snafu haven’t celebrated the holidays together, but this year that all changes. and because they’re spending the holidays away from their families for the first time, gene is determined to make it special. he also has an alternative plan for making it special, but that’s something that gene’s been planning for far longer. and though he’s certain that snafu loves him, his plan coupled with the holidays has him on edge. after all, nothing says it’s the holidays like constant panic and frantic action. and gene has both in spades.

Grating a potato shouldn’t be able to bring some near a panic attack, yet here Gene was. With a potato is one hand and grater in another, hands shaking and heart racing, Gene starts grating. It wasn’t the action or the process that was giving him anxiety, but rather what it meant. What tonight meant. It was the first time he and Snafu were celebrating the holidays together and Gene wanted to do everything he could to make sure it was as memorable as possible. They’d been together for the better part of three years, but this is the first time they’d be together for the holidays and since they celebrate different holidays, Gene had been working around the clock to make sure that his boyfriend didn’t feel left out. So, he’s spent the last week, while Snafu was on a work trip, decorating their house, finishing shopping, and now making their holiday dinner. He smiles and supposes owning a restaurant has its benefits. Still, no matter how much he cooks and creates for his career, no meal has ever been more important than the one he’s preparing now. With the beef brisket is in the oven, carrots roasting along side them, he moves onto Snafu’s three favorite foods: latkes, sufganiyot, and butter cookies. He managed to get Snafu’s mother’s butter cookie recipe and worked on the sufganiyot while the cookies cool. He always loved Snafu’s sweet tooth and his inability to control it. He saved the latkes for last so they’re fresh when Snafu finally makes it home. Tonight had to go perfectly, Gene was counting on it. He sets the formed pancakes to the side while the oil heats up. He takes a deep breath before moving onto the next task, perhaps the most important one: icing for the cookies. The success of the night rested upon the icing for the cookies. His phone buzzes in his pocket. Burgie: Leaving the airport now. Be there in a half-hour. Burgie: Snaf is confused as to why me and Bill picked him up instead of you. Burgie: By confused, I mean sad. Gene texts back in a flurry before the oil can get too hot. You: Good. He won’t suspect a thing then. Thanks for the assist Burg. Burgie: No problem. Tonight’s a big night. Anything we can do to help. At the reminder, he takes a deep breath and starts dropping the latkes in the pan. He’s just finished the last pancake when he hears a car door slam. He kills the heat and rushes toward their front door. Snafu bids his farewell to Burgie and Bill and climbs the front porch stairs, exhaustion from flight and work trip hitting him with full force. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t hurt that Gene didn’t pick him up from the airport. This is his first Hanukkah away from his family and though he’s more than happy to spend the holidays with Gene, it’s been hard being away from them. He shakes off the melancholy as he reaches their front door and is surprised when the door swings open abruptly. Gene is in his arms before Snafu can do anything more than breathe. Immediately the warmth of Gene’s body combines with the spice of his cologne and the telltale aroma of fried dough, sugar, and potatoes. “Welcome home.” Gene declares gently before pulling Snafu into a soft kiss. Snafu smiles into the kiss and pulls Gene closer into arms. “I have a surprise for you.” Before Snafu could respond, Gene pulled them both into their home. Snafu set his bag down before he looked up and what he saw made his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat. Their house was fully decorated and smelled just like his mother’s kitchen, just like home. Among the classic Christmas decorations were just as many celebrating Hanukkah. A menorah, complete with a set of candles and a Shamash sat dead center above their fireplace, above their stockings. The Christmas tree was adorned with candy canes and dreidels. Among the classic red and green, blue and white stood out just as much. Snafu took it all in, mesmerized and feeling so much like he was at home. “You did all this?” He asked in awe, voice strained with intense emotion. Gene, who had been holding his breath while his boyfriend took in his work, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, and the decorations are just the beginning babe.” Gene grabbed Snafu’s hand and pulled him into the large kitchen with excitement. Gene was worried about the decorations, afraid he’d done too much or too little, but he knew his food was where he would really shine. The aroma of the kitchen hit Snafu in full force and as he looked from platter to platter, he felt his eyes tear up. He always felt like Gene was too god for him and this did more than prove his point. While he was gone all week, Gene had managed his restaurant and pulled this off. “…and we’re going to decorate cookies after dinner, but first, can you grab the applesauce out of the fridge?” Snafu only caught the tail end what Gene was saying and again felt he didn’t deserve the man in front of him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond until Gene grabs his hands. “Snaf? What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Snafu looks up abruptly, into Gene concerned eyes and laughs softly. “No, Gene. Everything is perfect. I just…can’t believe you did all this just for me…for something you don’t even celebrate.” Snafu cleared his throat, emotion once again choking him up and preventing him from fully saying what he wanted to. His latest work trip and time away from Gene had him missing home and the man he loved more than ever before. Any time away from Gene made Snafu feel incomplete. So while he was away, he stopped at a jewelry store downtown and hoped that when he got home, he’d surprise the man he loved more than anyone and show Gene how much he meant to him. As it stood, Gene had his own surprises and was blowing Snafu’s out of the water. “Snaf, if it’s important to you then it’s important to me. If you celebrate it, I celebrate it. I love you and your life is my life. If you’re happy then I’m happy.” Snafu pulls Gene into a heated kiss, pouring all his love into their connection. “I love you so much, Gene. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, with you.” Gene smiled against Snafu’s lips. “I hope you’re hungry then. I’ve been cooking all day.” Snafu laughed, “How’s that different than any other day?” Gene threw a towel at his boyfriend. “Because I made all your favorites for the first time and you better lie to me and say they’re better than your mamma’s.” Snafu smiled, “Latkes?” Gene nodded, “Hup. Applesauce is in the fridge.” Snafu looks on the table and sees, “Are those sufganiyot?!” Gene laughed at the excitement as he pulled the brisket out of the oven to plate. “Yes, Snaf, and we’re decorating butter cookies after dinner. Your mamma finally gave me her recipe.” Snafu crowded Gene against the counter, unable to contain himself. No one had ever made him feel so loved and wanted and accepted and cherished and he wanted nothing more than to make Gene feel the exact same way. He hoped his original plan would accomplish that and if it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He had a whole speech prepared, planned on wrapping the gift for Gene to open in a few days but he was speaking before his mind could even catch up. “Gene,” he clears his throat and grab’s Gene’s hands, “I was going to wait to do this, but I can’t go another minute without knowing whether or not you want to marry me.” He watches nervously as Gene’s face shifts from shock to warmth to annoyance and finally outrage. Gene slips from his hold and Snafu’s heart drops. He always felt like Gene was too good for him and maybe this was the moment he found out it was true. Then Gene speaks. “This is so typical of you! I spend an entire week decorating the house, shopping and cooking, and planning and talking to your mamma for four hours,” Gene holds up four fingers, “Four hours Snafu! I had the perfect plan. We were gonna eat and then decorate cookies and I was gonna write my proposal on a cookie. A damn cookie! What’s more fitting for your sweet tooth? Not to mention that it’s your favorite sweet. And then you come in and ask me first? The audacity!” Gene’s panting slightly, but he’s been smiling the entire time and Snafu has never been so confused in his life. “So, to answer your stolen question, of course, I wanna marry you. I’ve been ready to marry you since our third date.” It takes several moments for Snafu’s brain to catch up with the last two minutes and the fact that Gene said yes. Once he realizes that Gene’s said yes, he crowds his against the counter, peppering every inch of Gene’s neck and face with kisses. “I swear I’m gonna make you the happiest man in the world, Gene.” Gene stops Snafu’s assault with a warm laugh and pulled him close. “You’ve already done that, Snaf. You do it every day I get to wake up next to you.” Snafu kissed him firmly and poured his love into it as he slipped the ring onto Gene’s finger. Gene pulls away and marvels at the silver band. Gene’s smile widens and he walks around the counter to grab the ring he’d gotten for Snafu. It was an antique silver adorned with two strong intertwining lines. He slides it perfectly onto Snafu’s finger. “Forgive me if I mess this up, but אני אוהב אותך.” The tears that had been threatening the boundaries of his eyes finally fell onto Snafu’s cheeks. He pulls Gene into another kiss, desperate and full of love. “I love you so much, Gene.” Gene smiles, “Prove it by doing the dishes later.” Snafu laughs and kisses his fiancé.

#sledgefu #sledge #snafu #the pacific #pac #snaf #my writing #my fic #thanks em #<3 #my stuff

[argylemnwrites]

Traditions

Pairing: Seth Levine x MC (Jessica Parker)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries (about one year after Book 3)

Word Count: ~1100

Rating: PG-13 (some adult language)

Summary: Seth gets to experience “holiday” Jessica when Hanukkah rolls around.

Author’s Note: Happy Hanukkah to all those who celebrate! Thought I’d write a little fic about my favorite Jewish character in Choices in honor of the first night of Hanukkah. This piece is for Day 22 of both the Choices December Challenge (Hanukkah) and 41 Days of Cheer (Holiday).

“Here, taste these,” Jessica said, shoving a plate of latkes across the kitchen island.

Seth glanced up from the script he was flipping through. Ethan Blake had been sending him a lot of scripts lately, but honestly, none of them had resonated with Seth. He knew he should have capitalized on his increased name recognition after Ninradell, but he just wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to focus on for his career. Should he be trying for more big-franchise blockbuster type roles, even though that wasn’t really his passion? Should he be looking at the comedic parts, even though those tended to be more supporting roles? Should he stick to movies, or would television be a better fit? Or should he return to his roots, focusing on his standup now that more people might be interested in him?

Unsure of what he truly wanted, he’d only taken a couple of recurring guest spots in some TV shows and a highly billed supporting role in an action comedy over the past year. Instead of acting, he’d spent more time focused on his writing, much to Ethan’s chagrin. Oh well, that had meant that he’d been able to travel with Jessica when she’d been filming on location in Australia, which had been much nicer than when they were both frantically busy throughout their entire engagement, barely seeing each other when they lived in the same city. Plus, he’d gotten to host SNL, so as far as he was concerned, that alone made the year since the release of Ninradell a professional success.

However, if Jessica kept feeding him fried food, his career options might be a moot point, as he was going to put on so much weight and would only get hired as the fat funny friend. Growing up, his mom had only made special foods for the first night of Hanakkuh, the rest of the nights often consisting of lighting the menorah and him and Caleb quickly opening their gifts between homework and clubs and sports. But Jessica had been frying and baking for five nights straight at this point, and that was in addition to the dozens of Christmas cookies she’d been baking and stocking the freezer with over the past few weeks. If he only gained 10 pounds over December, it would be a miracle.

Sighing, he grabbed the fork off the plate and started in on yet another batch of latkes. They were tasty - Jessica’s cooking always was - but he was getting a little tired of having to serve as her Jewish food critic. He felt like an ass for even having thoughts like that, but after four nights of latkes and sufganiyot and fritters and donuts, Seth just wanted a damn salad. But he couldn’t complain about his wife’s cooking, particularly when it was all for his holiday, so he dug in dutifully.

After a couple of bites, he looked over at Jessica, standing behind the stove top, staring at him expectantly.

“They’re good, Iowa,” he said between bites.

“Are they better than yesterday’s? I’m trying to get them crispier.”

“They were both good. They’ve all been good.”

Jessica sighed heavily at that. Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

“Jessica, I don’t know what to tell you. You know you’re a great cook. Literally everything you’ve made for Hanukkah has been amazing.”

“But these are the foods you grew up with, and I’ve never made them before.”

“And I’m telling you, you did an awesome job. What else do you want me to say?”

“I just want to be sure I’m replicating your childhood Hanukkahs.”

“Jessica, I love you, but that is an insane goal.”

She scowled at him, so he pressed on, trying to explain himself before things devolved into a fight.

“First, I was raised in a very liberal Reform home. My parents essentially transformed Hanukkah into Jewish Christmas, so you could serve me eggnog and some of those cookies you’ve been baking and it would feel normal to me. Second, unless you want to fly my brother out so he and I can get in a fight before he leaves for a shift at Jungle Jims and you drive me to the Y for swim class, you won’t be able to truly capture the essence of my childhood Decembers. Third, and most importantly, the day I compare any aspect of you to my mother is the day you should file for divorce. So please, Jessica, do not make me compare your latkes to my mother’s.”

Jessica bit her lip and smiled at that, pausing for a few moments before she spoke up.

“I know how important holiday traditions are, and I just… I just want our kids to look back on my holiday meals with fond memories.”

Ah, well that explained a lot. They had been talking about trying to get pregnant starting sometime in the new year. And while the thought both simultaneously excited and scared the shit out of Seth, Jessica was clearly viewing this holiday season as a trial run for the future. A future where she obviously envisioned herself as some Hallmark movie version of a mother.

“Jessica, they will love your holiday meals because you’ll be the one making them. You could serve them frozen pizza and they would love it. Whatever you want to serve, that will be our tradition, okay? Or if you want me to handle the Jewish crap, that’s fair too. We’ll figure it out year by year, alright?”

“No way are you allowed to cook any holiday meals, Jewish or otherwise.”

“I’m a decent cook!” Seth retorted, but Jessica just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Fine, I’m an adequate cook,” he amended.

“The Valentine’s dinner debacle of 2018 says otherwise.”

“The steaks were just a little overly charred.”

“And the rolls were not cooked through and the vegetables were beyond rubbery and you forgot about dessert in the oven so the sprinklers went off-”

“Alright, alright, I concede that meal did not turn out well. Are you ever gonna let me live that down?”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head as she flipped the rest of the latkes onto another plate, walked around the island, and joined Seth on the stool next to his. And while he knew that it was just in Jessica’s nature to go a little nuts about this sort of thing, that she would always be the type to go all out for the holidays, well sitting here, enjoying a home-cooked meal with her was more than festive enough for him. Whatever the future held for them and their family, spending it together would always matter more than what was on the menu.

Tags: @mfackenthal @octobereighth​ @choicesbyjade​ @jlpplays1-41daysofcheerchallenge​ @choicesdecemberchallenge​

#seth levine #seth x mc #choicesdecemberchallenge #41daysofcheer #rcd fanfiction #rcd #choices fanfiction #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play

[carereg]

☃️🕯 Happy Hanukkah, Care Cuties! 🕯☃️

Happy third day of Hanukkah to all the care cuties who celebrate! May the light in your life burn strong and bright. I hope you have a wonderful Hanukkah, and to those who don’t celebrate, I hope you have a lovely time, as well.

#happy hannukah care cuties #carereg #care regression #carereg community #carereg blog #carelil #caresystlil #carepet #caredreamer #careflip #carereggiver #caresib

[akatdollie]

this has probably been asked but w/e: sasori/third in a happy au? or not, entirely up to you :^)

SasoThird - 

Verse: Through the Looking Glass, Darkly -

AKA the one where Sasori stays in Suna because he’s kind of a stalker and the Third doesn’t mind so much (because at least he’s not dead; also his stalker likes to spoil him and is lovely).

where they first met and how - At a parade celebrating Suna’s victory in the Second Shinobi War. The Council selected Sasori and many other veterans to be awarded for outstanding service to the state; the Third was the one that gave them their medal. Sasori was impressed by his warm manner and powerful speech… the Third wasn’t particularly stunned by Sasori. Ah well. Better luck next time!

who fell for who first ( if applicable ) - Hahahahaha. While Sasori developed a lot of respect (and eventually a crush, and eventually… this unhealthy sort of love), the Third is not interested in Sasori until way later in life.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved - Sasori has feelings way before he is even on the Third’s radar.

They get closer during the Third Shinobi War, when Sasori is more mature. Then, afterwards, Sasori uses his seat on the Council (passed down in the family; abandoned by Chiyo) to discreetly nominate himself to be the Kage’s personal assistant/advisor. He oversees the Third’s schedule; processes his mail and drafts replies; arranges lunch; makes sure the Third’s home is stocked with food; etc, etc. Good worker bee. Integrates himself into the Kazekage’s life.

He serves loyally for about five years (“the perfect puppet,” he likes to call himself), until the Third actually… flirts. Which Sasori never did. Because he didn’t know how to flirt. Um. Do they teach you to do this in training camp? No? Yikes. Well. He learns quickly.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? ) - Sasori already assumes they’re dating so there’s no need to ask the Third out. The Third is too busy, you know, ruling, to worry about courting a man that’s clearly in love with him.

where their first date was and what it was like - Sasori would tell you that their first date was when the Third took him on an impromptu tour of his Father’s tomb. The Third would say that it was three years later, when he looked over at his assistant, bored, and asked Sasori to accompany him on a walk. They ended up getting in an argument about this or that scholar, and go to the Kazekage’s personal library, looking for a particular passage of a book to settle the affair.

who proposes first - I don’t think they ever marry. Neither of them see a point in the ceremony, they can’t have children, and the Third has a reputation to maintain along the clerics. That said, the Third is one that makes the first move that is blatantly “romantic,” requesting that Sasori draw him, knowing what art means to the puppeteer.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? ) - See above. Once the line has been breached, Sasori starts asking that the Third model for him; they also spend more non-work time just generally in each other’s company.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away - I headcanon that Suna doesn’t particularly care one way or another about same sex marriages … as long as the line is secured (which it is through cousin Rasa, thank god for him and Karura doing it like bunnies) no one cares who the Kazekage spends his days or nights with.

So, it’s not quite a secret, but Sasori would rather keep the Third to himself than let the “jealous little snakes” take what he’s earned.

The Third just prefers discretion. There’s really no need to tell the world what is his, but he may occasionally make sly digs about being romantically blessed to those who are less fortunate than he (i.e., the world).

if they adopt any pets together - No, Sasori has his human puppet collection which he tends to, not quite as numerous as canon as he has other things to focus on (micromanaging the village, tormenting Rasa, making sure the Third gets his tea on time), rather than carving up bodies… The Kazekage has quite a number of Sunan horses, however.

who’s more dominant - They both do this thing where they think they’re the one in charge… Even though they’re mostly equals. No...I’m in control, they tell themselves. (Idiots.)

where their first kiss was and what it was like - It was at the Kazekage’s estate. Sasori standing above the Third, reading some important documents over his shoulder, the Third looking up at him, admiring how the kohl sharpened his eyes and how his hair caught the candlelight… grabbing Sasori by the back of his neck and pulling down.

It stole Sasori’s breath away.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? ) - Sasori goes into the Kazekage’s closet and makes sure to add accessories that allude to him--red scarves, arachnid patterns, etc. The Third doesn’t mind. Dressing himself is a bother. Actually he finds it a bit endearing.

how into pda they are - Sasori likes standing behind the Kazekage at a respectable distance, showing ownership. The Third knows full well that he does this. Occasionally he will drag Sasori behind a pillar for some alone time.

who holds the umbrella when it rains - It doesn’t rain in Suna. But occasionally they travel to other lands… And Sasori, being too short to hold it, gets a puppet instead.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable ) - in the Third’s bedroom with a small buffet of fancy foods personally selected by Sasori.

who’s more protective - Sasori is obsessive but it is the Third who will raze villages in the unlikely event that someone hurts him.

if they argue about anything - They bicker about philosophy but no serious arguments unless Sasori continues making human puppets against the Third’s direct orders.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. ) - Neither, naturally, though the Third likes to play a game where he tries to make Sasori lose enough control to scratch trails down his back. If Sasori tells the Third to bite him, the Third would, just to make a point.

who steals whose clothes and how often - At this point I’m certain that Sasori steals clothes from all of his lovers, but for the Third it’s not often, less so when they get together, and even then only in the mornings before the sun heats up the sky. (The robes don’t fit him, which is annoying. They are not suitable for everyday life.)

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? ) - Facing each other, Sasori’s head in the Third’s chest. The Kazekage likes admiring him.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is - Sasori likes serving the Third tea, which he finds funny, because in my Suna offering tea is an innuendo for offering sex haha. He usually does this while gossiping about other politicians, Councilmen, etc., which the Kazekage finds useful and entertaining.

The Third likes taking walks with Sasori, especially in the desert ruins, where the Kazekage chatters on and on about long dead civilizations.

how long they stay mad at each other - The Third dismisses Sasori for a full month when the man fails to obey an order to his expectations. Sasori avoids him for two. Then the Third refuses to acknowledge him for another three. They’re both way too prideful.

if they ever split up and / or get back together - See above. The Third eventually corners Sasori, deciding he’s had enough, and the two hash it out.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are - Sasori gets thick, imported coffee. The Third has red tea, usually, but enjoys sampling foreign, expensive drinks.

if they ever have any children together - Nope.

if they have any special pet names for each other - Sasori calls the Third, “My Lord,” because he’s his, and a Lord. Third calls Sasori simply “mine”. Like it’s a fact.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? ) - Clean and pristine, how the Third prefers it. No clutter except for a pile of books they are currently reading, and loose art paper here and there. A lot of marble, open floor plan, low tables with cushions on top of a lush carpet? It’s nice.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like - Suna doesn’t celebrate either holiday in my headcanons, but there are plenty of festivals devoted to various gods, where the city swells with merchants and food vendors from all across the Land of Wind and sometimes other countries.

Sasori usually spends them at the Third’s side, doing various official ceremonies, religious rites, visiting temples, etc. No kissing babies please. it’s actually very exhausting for them both, but the Third enjoys observing so many people in one place, particularly so devoted to him. Humans are so interesting.

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? ) - Once their relationship is a bit more established, they eat dinner together often, and feed each other on forks.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon - Sasori is reluctantly the small spoon if only because it’s convenient on cold desert nights.

What is more likely is that the Third ends up sprawled on top of him like an octopus, hair and limbs loose and everywhere.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first - They both fall asleep and wake up at roughly the same time, as they keep the same schedule, but the Third has to get up first because his morning routine is more high maintenance.

who hogs the bathroom - They both hog the bathroom for makeup purposes but the Third spends more time on his appearance, adorning himself with gold and carefully applying kohl. Sasori finishes first and helps him with his hair because otherwise they will be late, damn it.

(The Third enjoys being pampered.)

who kills the spiders / takes them outside - the Third lazily asks Sasori to take them out. They aren’t worth killing, in his opinion.

...Sasori privately considers them very cool, and maybe takes a couple minutes so sketch them.

...The Third notices and gets Sasori a particularly rare one for his birthday; black, striped with gold, and very, very deadly.

💘

#nycthemerals #akatdollie #SasoThird #///I need a new tag for this pair #///it is a bit boring but this is the 'happiest' AU for them in canon #///though I can think of a couple other AUs that aren't on my list which would be more interesting