#also i know its a while past hanukkah but it's not too far past and i finally got round to this!

[somewherebetweenrage]

@shieldretired sent: “ Aren’t you supposed to say something when you light the candles? “ (Steve trying to give Erik a nice Hanukkah but not knowing a lot about it 😭)

   This is Erik’s first Hanukkah in America, his first involving any sort of proper celebration since the age of ten. In between then and now each festival has either been missed - forgotten or ignored; it’s not like he had access to a calendar while in the camp - or marked in secrecy and hushed tones. Here, in Steve’s living room, menorah in front of him, Erik feels exposed.

   “...I don’t know the words,” he finally admits, voice small. The mutant hasn’t heard the Hebrew prayers in years, nor has he been able to learn them from his parents, as is the custom. Pink begins to dust across his cheeks as he thinks about how Magda’s family, and everyone else at synagogue, knows the prayers - everyone except him. “I never learned...”

[pacifymebby]

Christmas Eve

Part of my Christmas/2k celebration!!

Also just a side note for Alfie's, I based this on Christmas/Hanukkah celebrations I've been involved in before, I'm sorry if it's not accurate to other people's personal experiences of like mixed culture it's just how it's worked for us in the past... I didn't want to just ignore Alfie's Jewishness

Tommy

🌿Beneath Tommy's cold exterior is a family man, he's just very good at keeping it hidden beneath all those defensive layers... And he believes Christmas is a precious time, a time that should be spent with family... 

🌿And as much as he grumbles about having to host his whole family every year at Arrow House, Tommy wouldn't have it any other way...

🌿So Christmas Eve at Arrow House is a busy day, a day brimming with anticipation, that buzz in the air, expectancy, waiting for loved ones to arrive, the children excited to see their cousins, uncles, aunts...

🌿 And amid the hustle and bustle, the trickle of arriving guests who have come to stay for the holidays, Tommy will manage to slip away unnoticed for a little while... he'd have business to attend to, things he just has to see through before the new year...

🌿 And whilst in the morning his absence is excusable, and whilst in the afternoon you're far to wrapped up in overseeing the last minute changes to menus, to guest bedrooms, to present wrapping and attending to the needs of your excitable little ones, as the evening draws in Tommy's absence will become unignorable...

🌿 But you're not surprised and neither is Ada, neither are any of the wives, neither is Arthur who is supposed to be dressing up as Santa for the youngens but is waiting for his absent brother to phone through...

🌿 Tommy promised to be home early for the kids so you're getting worried. Ada is all eye rolls and Polly is tutting "that fuckin man and his fuckin business..." but you're getting scared that he isn't coming home at all...

🌿 Now the kids are obviously very excited because its christmas eve, so you haven't been able to settle them at all...

🌿 They're running around the house with their cousins playing at being daddy, pretending to shoot eachother, pretending to die and although usually you'd tell them off, try to tell them that thats not what their daddy does, tonight their laughter is so sweet you just let them carry on playing

🌿And their excitement is catching, it's hard to be too fearful when the tree is sparkling and there's frost in the air outside, when Ada and Polly have mixed up fancy gin cocktails and John keeps catching you beneath the mistletoe teasing you, telling you to take your chance whilst your husband's away...

🌿 There's that joy, that magic, that warmth, the family is together, the children are as innocent and as gleeful as you could possibly hope them to be... And in your heart you know that your stupid husbands coming home to you, that all will be well...

🌿 So even though you should be mad at him for breaking his promise and being late really you're just looking forward to him coming home, to throwing your arms around him, to having him catch you under the mistletoe and brush a chaste kiss over your lips before the kids can see you and start making sick noises.

🌿And when Tommy does finally come home the children nearly knock him over, barrelling into him. Your oldest pretends to shoot him for being late and breaking his promise...

🌿 So Tommy pretends he's shot, drops to his knees all dramatic in the doorway, his 'last words' tell your mother I love her very..." and when he closes his eyes and pretends to die the kids all clamber on him and demand that he wakes up... and he does but only because they're tickling him and he can't resist jumping back to life, snatching them up and making them jump and squeal and laugh.

🌿 finally they and him settle down, he says hes sorry for being late, hugs and kisses the children and then you, saying he's sorry an extra time, just to you, hand cupping your cheek as he looks you deep in the eyes, one of those, melt your heart, don't be angry with me, kind of looks

🌿And you can't be angry at him...

🌿He'd be able to settle the children so fast, getting them ready for bed with you and tucking them in. Telling them to be good or father christmas might change his mind about visiting them

🌿 But then seeing their little faces drop and chuckling, "no, of course he won't forget about you, little angels the lot of you, I reckon you're all right at the top of Father Christmas' list eh?"

🌿 "So we'd better get you up to bed eh? He'll be here soon and you'll want to be fast asleep in your beds when he gets here..."

🌿 As you go to follow the children up to the nursery Tommy catches your hand and tugs you back to the doorway, "and where do you think you're going in such a hurry love?" His fingers link closely with yours as he nods to the doorframe above you both, his smirk a little cheeky as you follow his gaze and see the mistletoe dangling above you...

🌿 When you tell him he isn't the first person to try it on with you under the mistletoe that evening, that if he'd been just one more minute late you'd have kissed his brother instead, he chuckles, "well I suppose I'd better make up for all that lost time eh?"

🌿 Closing your eyes when he kisses you, smiling into his lips as he lets them linger, your hand on his chest, you can feel his body heat warming you, his hold feels like home... When you pull away startled by the sound of the children calling for you Tommy pulls you back for one more kiss...

🌿 "Wait, there we go, just one more moment of peace..." he says quietly kissing you again, holding you close.

🌿 The children love it when he reads them the night before christmas, they're almost always half asleep by the time he's finished, your youngest sitting in his lap, drooling on him...

🌿 Watching him stroke their hair and kiss their heads,whispering to them little good nights and "love you"s before the two of you turn out the light and go back downstairs...

🌿He was late because he'd picked up last minute gifts for you, so he'd be trying to send you up to bed before him "go on angel, warm it up for me eh..."

🌿 He's probably so relieved to get into bed with you that evening, he'd wrap his arms around you and sigh, completely content and happy.

🌿Christmas always leaves him feeling grateful for everything he has, getting into bed with you and holding you close reminds him all the more of everything he has, how important you and the children are... He would still be a little preoccupied thinking about the morning, excited to see the children's faces when they see that father Christmas has been, looking forward to the way you'll kiss him when you open your gifts.

🌿Tommy will be the last one who falls asleep that night, he's too busy making the most of the peace, the bristling excitement in the air, just enjoying the feeling of you in his arms, knowing the whole family is together, safe and sound and full of joy. 

Alfie

🐻 Alfie is only be celebrating christmas because you celebrate christmas, otherwise to him its not really a very important day at all. More than that it's "a fuss about nothing!" And a "tiresome inconvenience if you ask me little ziskeit, don't know why anyone bothers with it all..."

🐻 Every year it's always the same... Alfie promises he won't be grumpy this December, he promises he'll try to embrace the Christmas Spirit and be "merry and bright my little ziskeit, that's me, that's your Alfie ain't it, merry and bloody bright..."

🐻 But every year Alfie seems to be more grumpy than the last, grumbling and stropping about every tiny inconvenience, the market is always busier this time of year and he can't go out without bumping into people, getting jostled in the crowds... and his frustrations lead to some very comical rants about Jesus Christ and how he must have been one narcissistic baby to demand such a fuss...

🐻 By Christmas Eve you've just about had enough of his ranting and raving, all his grumbling and stropping, so just when he's about to go off on one all over again you stop him, arms crossed over your chest, face like thunder, eyes so steely and determined as you scold him for being such a grump that he stops dead in his tracks...

🐻 "Alright that's it, Alfred I've had enough!" Alfie can't keep the stunned smirk off his lips, he can't believe his little ziskeit is standing up to him... "Oh? What's this then are you tellin me off poppet? Are you gonna give your old man a piece of your mind?" He just sits down in his arm chair, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting on top of his cane, looking up at you expectantly...  "Well go on then ziskeit, you give your old man a firm talkin too, tell me what a miserable, rotten old miser I'm being... don't hold back my darlin, don't try to spare my feelings eh, do your worst poppet..." it's like he's challenging you, waiting to see what you'll say but you've really had enough... all you want is a cosy, merry little Christmas...

🐻 "Don't tease me Alfie!" You sniff trying to remain indignant, trying not to get emotional as you hold your chin up high, "all I wanted yeah, was one peaceful little Christmas right and you promised Alfie, you promised youd try and get into the spirit of things this year but all you've done all bloody month is..."

🐻 You trail off when you hear him sigh, when you see that warm teasing glow in his eyes, he's smiling softly, watching you as you try to continue scolding him... Then he pushes himself up and walks slowly to you, takes your hips in his hands and guides you a pace into his body, looking down at you, expectantly, patiently waiting for you to be done with your own ranting and raving... And when you trail off and look at him you understand...

🐻 "Now then? Do you reckon you're finished tellin me off now poppet? Reckon your old man might be allowed to get a word in now yeah? Even if he is a mean old grump?" He's still teasing you and your blush is furious as he takes your cheek in his calloused hand and strokes your face with his thumbs, "my my you don't half get yourself in a tizz about these things do ya ziskeit, all this fuss over one bloody day..."

🐻 "Ain't just any day though is it Alf, s'christmas an it only comes once a year an I wanted it to be perfect... Not just for me but for the kids you know..."

🐻 "And it will be my little ziskeit, it will be... You trust me on this yeah, good old Father fuckin Christmas'll make sure everything's perfect..." he says reaching behind his chair for a tatty brown sack, slinging it over his shoulder and shooting you a wink...

🐻 Because Alfie does this every year too... Kids on that he hates Christmas, that he thinks the whole things a big old waste of time... Pushes you to your absolute limits, waiting for the day your fierce but rare temper bursts only to chuckle and pat you affectionately on the cheek before saying something stupid like "Ho Ho Fucking Ho and all that right..."

🐻Because actually he doesn't dislike Christmas as such, he just dislikes watching you get yourself so flustered about what is essentially just one day... He doesn't see the point in how rushed off your feet you get, how worried, how high your blood pressure must sore.. for just one day... A day you couldn't ruin if you tried.

🐻 He would try to help you with things like wrapping presents for the children but he wouldn't be very good at it at all, so it would be obvious who had wrapped what, his presents will hardly even be in the paper and honestly, sometimes you find yourself having to redo his poor attempts at wrapping.

🐻 Your Christmas traditions are mixed with Hanukkah traditions, you light the Menorah together for each of the eight nights of Hanukkah, you make donuts together (he fusses over you when it comes to frying them fretting about you burning yourself on the oil) he fills the house with joyous and spirited traditional music and teaches you and the children to play Dreidel (often making a grumbling fuss when he ahs to hand his Hanukkah Gelt over to whoever just won it off him)

🐻 He enjoys the irony of the whole Christmas thing, grins and laughs at himself when he sits down to read his children a christmas themed bed time story. He thinks its amusing because by now he knows it by heart...

🐻 Tells the kids that their father christmas doesn't like milk and cookies, he likes a drop of rum and some rugelach instead...

🐻 He will sit with the kids as they're falling asleep, he'll sing them a low, gentle little lullaby and stroke their little heads, Alfie has a calming presence which settles them, he's like a big soft teddy bear watching over them and when he wants them to settle down and drift off he can soothe their excitement in minutes... And on Christmas Eve he wants nothing more than to see them all settled because he knows that when he goes back downstairs looking for you he'll find you still busy, still fussing... And he wants to make sure you relax and enjoy the most important day of the year "allegedly"

🐻 He'll stop in the living room doorway, his body a big shadow blocking out the lamplight... he doesn't have to say anything to let you know he's there... you're sitting on the floor trying to wrap last minute gifts and make sure everything's perfect... he just tuts at you and shakes his head...

🐻 "Tsk tsk little ziskeit, you're breakin your promises this evening ain't ya... see I don't know if you remember right, well.. you can't possibly remember cause if you did then I'm sure you wouldn't just be breakin em willynilly now would you poppet... do you remember what you promised me this time last year?" You do remember what you promised him but you're determined you won't be admitting that tonight... Alfie however has other ideas.

🐻 He'll beckon you up and over to him with his finger, nod for you to come right up close. Then he'll take your hips in his hands and guide you back a pace, settling pulling you down into his arm chair with him, holding you firmly in his lap, "There we go that's better back where you belong right, that's better... now then where were we? Right... yeah, you were going to tell me all about that promise what you made me on Christmas day last year... weren't you ziskeit..." when you remain silent he chuckles and shakes his head, "oh no no no that won't do, nah... it won't... my darlin ziskeit what you seem to be forgettin right is this... only the naughtiest of naughty girls break their promises right... and on this very important evening even the worst yeah, even the most rotten of young ladies will keep her promises right... cause if she don't yeah well she might just find a lump of coal waiting for her in the morning yeah .. what dya reckon my little ziskeit? That what you want is it? A nasty old lump of coal?"

🐻 "One of these days I'll give you a nasty old lump of coal Alfie Solomons" you flower up at him so sulky and sullen he can't keep the grin off his face because he thinks you look adorable like that..

🐻 But although he chuckles and laughs along, lets you tease him too he still makes you promise that you're going to relax and let yourself enjoy the day too...

🐻 "If you're going to get so worked up about it, I'll call the whole bloody day off..." he will literally threaten to cancel Christmas, he's only teasing but it's a joke he never tires of especially when you start threatening him back, "I'll cancel you in a bloody minute Alfred now get over here and help me with this bloody bird!"

🐻 He will spend the rest of the evening hovering around you, telling you to let him take care of everything (you absolutely won't be doing that) but after another hour he's managed to help you with all the finishing touches and he's coaxing you up to bed...

🐻 "Now come on my little ziskeit, what do I have to do to make you see sense... You know how this works you are the angel who taught me all this madness after all... If you don't go to bed and get your beauty sleep old Saint Nick just won't come... Will he? So poppet, this is my suggestion yeah, just a gentle suggestion yeah, come straight from my heart because right, because I care about you very much and because your old man is getting very very tired... Why don't you an me yeah, why don't we go upstairs now and tuck ourselves up nice an snug in bed because I'm not daft yeah, I know how this works by now... In a few hours time those little terrors will be jumpin on our legs to wake us up won't they...."

🐻 And you know he's right so you give in and roll your eyes and let him take you up to bed. Before you go to sleep you make him promise not to be too grumpy in the morning, he makes you promise you'll relax.

Arthur

🍂 Definitely promised you he would come straight home from work, definitely promised he wouldn't stop in the Garrison with his brothers and the lads from the office...

🍂 Definitely does stop in the pub on his way home... Everyone was in such high spirits leaving that evening and Arthur doesn't want to miss out on the celebrations... Besides, he'll only have one.. and he's got all Christmas to spend with you and the little ones...

🍂 And of course this is Arthur so he doesn't only have one... but he doesn't get too drunk either and he doesn't stay out too late because he loves the excitement at home on Christmas Eve and he doesn't want to miss out on all that fun either...

🍂 So he walks home a little merry and he stops in the garden to build a snowman outside the children's bedroom window. You can hear him scuffling about outside and when you catch a glimpse of him through the kitchen window you roll your eyes... why the fuck did you marry such a big kid?

🍂 But you trust your husband's up to something and you don't want to ruin whatever surprise he has planned for the kids so you shut the curtains and go upstairs to check on the little ones who are brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed. You know they're dragging it out because they're waiting for their dad to come home...

🍂 You sneek outside to try and coax Arthur indoors out of the freezing cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as you whisper to try and get his attention... "Arthur... Arthur bloody Shelby what the fuck are you doing out here come on it's freezing!" And when he hears you he raises his hands in surrender, promising you he isn't drunk... which doesn't exactly reassure you...

🍂 "Eh love, don't suppose you've got a carrot you can spare me eh? For the kids?" He nods to his snowman and you can't do anything but roll your eyes and pretend not to be amused... you are though, you think he's so silly but you love him for it, love him for how much he loves the kids...

🍂 So you give him the carrot and then you drag him inside out of the cold, kissing him and rubbing his arms to try and get him warm... Of course when the lids hear the door close they come running downstairs overflowing with excitement because dad's home "finallyyy!"

🍂 You can't believe how they've shot from being almost settled, drifting off in the arm chair together, to bright as little stars, fizzing up and bubbling over shouting and jumping and tugging on his sleeves when he does his best father Christmas voice.

🍂 Arthur scooping his little ones up in his arms, getting excited with them, winding them up asking them if they're excited for all their lovely presents, asking them what they've left out for Father Christmas...

🍂 But one look at you and the realisation that you're starting to look a little worn out and like you might need your own bed very soon gets him to settle down, gets him to try and calm the little ones again...

🍂 to save himself from your potential frustration that he'd caused such a commotion he'd be trying to charm you into giving him a smile and softening on him again, stealing a kiss from you under the mistletoe and pinching your cheek, teasing you...

🍂 "lighten up my darlin its Christmas eve... Eh you'd better turn that frown upside down my sweetheart or father christmas won't have any presents for you..."

🍂 To try and get the kids into bed he'd do things like pretend he can hear father christmas on the roof, or he'd tell them that whilst he was out he saw something in the sky that looked just like a sleigh... "so you'd better hurry to bed my darlins cause you know what will happen if father christmas comes and you're still awake... Coal! Coal for the lot of ye little rascals..."

🍂 Remembers his snowman outside and tells the kids to look out of their window, "Now you know who he is don't you you little rotters, he's one of old father Christmas's spies... I mean helpers and he's come to make sure you lot are all tucked up in bed fast asleep... So you'd better get yourselves up them wooden hills hadn't you... Come on my darlins chop chop.."

🍂 He's definitely been out last minute Christmas shopping for gifts for you and has to try and slip them under the christmas tree before you see them... He also had to wrap them last minute and he's not wonderful at gift wrapping when he isn't drunk and in a rush...

🍂 When you gather the kids in bed to read them a bedtime story he wants to listen too and climbs into bed with you all... He definitely gets a little too comfy snuggled under the blankets with you all and falls asleep during the story which the children find highly amusing.

🍂 Perhaps the children should leave a nice glass of water out of father christmas this year?

John

🌼 A huge child about Christmas, really he is just a big kid at heart and he's just as excited about christmas as the children... he's definitely not helping to calm them down or get them settled in bed that's for sure!

🌼 Instead he comes home for his work that evening with pockets full of sweets for them and lets them eat as many as they like... Pinching some for himself too...

🌼 Being too sentimental for his own good he hardly stopped in at the pub with the lads, let them "force" one whiskey down him, one which he downed slammed on the table and then announced to the room that he was off home because unlike the rest of them he's a "highly responsible father"... So he was laughed out of the Garrison naturally...

🌼 When he comes home he throws the sweets into the air letting them rain down over the children who dance and jump at his feet, all of the scrambling to catch and father as many as they can...

🌼 All you can do is watch and let yourself get wrapped up in the craziness of it all too... you already know there's no trying to tame your wild little family, especially not when John's talking the lead like this...

🌼 He'll tease them telling him he saw some of father christmas's elves in the garden, that they told him there'll be no toys for the shelby children this year...

🌼 But your children are smart and they know their daddy is just being silly. Which they won't be shy about telling him, pointing at him, giggling and arguing with him, dragging you into the argument too begging you to "tell daddy not to be so stupid!"

🌼 He's really done it now and the children are feral, together they wrestle him down to the ground and threaten him with lots of tickles and other terrors if he doesn't take it back... And of course John lets them win. He can't breath for laughing so hard and neither can you.

🌼 When you finally stop laughing at the mess he's gotten himself into you manage to convince him the children need to go to bed, he'll tell them that actually the elves told him they're waiting for the shelby children to go to sleep so that father christmas can come and deliver all their presents.

🌼 So the children will finally go to bed, they'll leave a wee carrot for the reindeer and a little treat for father christmas too, and they'll leave a little path of destruction for you and John to tidy up once they're tucked up and asleep... One which you inform John he can tidy up by himself... One which you know you'll be tidying up together.

🌼 John, more than the children, will be begging you to read the night before christmas... It's a little family tradition you have been doing since the first Christmas you stayed with the Shelby's and told it to all the Shelby children to settle them when the rest of the family had an emergency meeting. You've always been a little shy to read it in front of John but every year he insists just the same... "Voices and all!"

🌼 When you challenge him and say "why doesnt daddy read it this year?" he just pouts and says "i think mummy does it better what do you think children, doesn't your mummy read it wonderfully..." He has that mischievous twinkle in his eyes, one you can't say no to and wouldn't want to say no to even if you thought you could get away with it...

🌼 So you have to read it and John just gets all cosy with the children, they'd be giggling and whispering with him mischievously the whole time, impossible to settle down until you're kissing them all on the forehead and turning out the lights. Even then you can see them fidgeting and wriggling in the dark, hear them giggling behind the closed nursery door.

🌼 When they're finally asleep and you were ready to go to bed yourselves, John would sneak away to go and make reindeer prints in the snow outside for the children to find the next morning.

🌼 Then he'd come back to find you trying to tidy away his mess... Honestly he'd end up making more mess when he grabs you by the waist and asks to get his hands on his "beautiful, beautiful wife..."

🌼 What can I say the man's got a lot of pent up energy that needs to be used up before he goes to sleep...

Bonnie

🍀 Bonnie's used to a very busy, very family driven Christmas... One which is simple and traditional but chaotic and lively... All the family comes together for Christmas and their little camp practically triples inside as more and more families arrive each day in the weeks running up to Christmas...

🍀 But all the chaos means there's so much extra work to do and even though there's also extra helping hands, between Bonnie being dragged away on hunting expeditions to gather food for Christmas Day and wood for the fires, and you being rushed off your feet with children to mind, presents to make and hide away... Well you and Bonnie have hardly had a second together for days...

🍀 And Bonnie's favourite part of Christmas is getting to spend it with the people he loves - you most of all. He had so many plans for this December with you and so far he hasn't been able to get you alone for long enough to do more than give you a quick kiss on the cheek...

🍀He's longing for Christmas day so that all the fuss will be over and he might sneak you away to give you your presents...

🍀But before that there's Christmas Eve to get through, just one more day and then finally the two of you will get a little peace... And the way you keep shooting him long lingering glances from the steps of your vardo, from by the fire, from where you sit buried beneath your younger siblings and a blanket...Bonnie can tell you're thinking exactly the same as you..

🍀Though he has to admit he does love to watch you playing with the youngens, getting them ready for bed as the sun goes down and they get rosy cheeks by the fire. They're so cute and you're so good with them... It doesn't half make him broody, he can't help but imagine what kind of a mammy you'll be one day...

🍀Every time he tries to come and sit down with you someone steels him away, his dad gives him a job to do, some of the younger lads demand he joins their snowball fight...

🍀And it's that snowball fight that means he finally gets his hands on you... Because when one of the lads clips one of the lassies you've been sitting with on the back of the head with a snowball all he'll breaks loose and all the kids are suddenly picking sides and scrambling to action.

🍀Naturally you're siding with your best friend, against Bonnie and the lads... Which means your competitive streak shines through and challenges Bonnie... Who never backs down from a fight. Its not long before you're tearing through the trees, kicking and throwing snow at him, giggling because you know you can't escape him, and god you don't want to escape him!

🍀So finally he gets his hands on you, wrapping his arms tight around you, pretending he's fighting you to the floor... The chill of the snow as you sink into the drift on your back, the cold prickles all over you but all you can concentrate on is the warmth of his breath on your cheek as he pins you down and locks eyes with you...

🍀 "So this is what I have do to steal a moment with my girl eh?" He teases wasting very little time before he kisses you deep and passionately, that desire to see you become a mammy almost getting the better of him as you giggle and push him off you reminding him it won't be long before the two of you get swarmed by bairns.

🍀So instead he helps you up and walks you back to the fire to get you warmed up, and he uses his own chill as an excuse to sit with you by the fire for awhile, admiring you, falling in love with you a little more as you gather the youngens round you once again to tell them a story as they drink their hot milk before bed.

🍀Later when it's late and most of the littlens are fast asleep, when the musics being played and everyone's merry on hot mulled wine Bonnie finally gets you all to himself, dancing with you by the fire, stealing all the kisses he wants, teasing you asking if you've been good this year an if you reckon father Christmas is gonna visit you.

🍀Cuddling up to you when you're both tucked away in bed, whispering to you about how sweet you looked with the littlens earlier.. boy has baby fever and trust me it gets ten times worse at Christmas.

Isaiah

🐀 Watching the chaos ensuing at the Shelby Manor and listening to John and Ada talking about all the stress of Christmas with the children is making you and Isaiah feel very grateful that you're still young and that this Christmas Eve the only thing you've to worry about is the Garrison running out of drink...

🐀 You've been looking forward to seeing your friends all week having been busy in the shop you work in right until close that very afternoon... Isaiah would meet you at your work to pick you up and in his pocket he's got s gift for you...

🐀 "I was going to wait until tomorrow to give you this but I thought you might like to wear them tonight..." He says kissing your lips and then your neck as he shuts your bedroom door behind you and pushes you back into your room gently. He's being extra charming, the romance of the season getting to both your heads.

🐀He's brought you a pair of divine ruby earrings, they're utterly gorgeous and you can't believe he's giving them to you at all least of all when it's not even technically christmas yet! You gasp, thrilled by the beautiful gift and immediately put them on...

🐀 You're trying to get ready to go out, trying to change into a prettier dress for your evening out but Isaiah has other ideas... he wants to see what you look like when you're only wearing those earrings...

🐀 So you're late to the Garrison and you turn up looking a little less than pristine but neither of you care because youve been sharing a bottle of wine on the walk and you're both ruby cheeked warmed by your drink for the road...

🐀 Spending the night laughing and dancing with all your friends, Finn's managed to sneak away from his demanding nieces and nephews and even Bonnie has managed to come up with an excuse to stay in town a little later than usual rather than heading straight back to the camp to help with the kids...

🐀 You spend all night wrapped up in Isaiah and your love for him... there's something about christmas which still excites you, wakes up your inner child and makes you giddy... all the glowing lights the decorations, the snowfall outside in the street.

🐀 Every time Isaiah catches you under the mistletoe he insists on a kiss, not just a peck but a cheeky, tempting kiss, one which makes your tummy flip and reminds you of what you were getting up to in your bed earlier than evening... one which makes you wish you could sneak off with him again...

🐀 At kicking out time you and your friends all go stumbling out into the snowy street together, all of you feeling drunk and carefree, like big children, Michael and Finn start a snowball fight which sees you all laughing and play fighting in the street, you join Bonnie's team and torment your boyfriend who is only pretending to be jealous... right?

🐀 Somewhere amid the chaos Isaiah snatches you and pulls you into the back of a parked car, it's dark and he's hovering above you in the back seat, your body pushes into the leather seat... when you look up his grin his boyish and ever so cheeky...

🐀 "Oh would you look at that eh... a Christmas miracle..." he teases holding the mistletoe he's stolen from the garrison above your head, pulling you in for an even deeper kiss than the last...

🐀 It's hard not to go too far but after a long while of torturing eachother with tempting kisses you realise you're late for his father's mass and you both go running off hand in hand down the street, finishing the last of the drink he also took from behind the bar at the Garrison.

🐀 You're hand in hand and oh so drunk as you slip into the church and sit in the corner of a pew right at the back, you're giggling quietly to one another, holding hands, propping one another up...

🐀 at different times you both fall asleep and wake one another up and when it comes time for communion you're both giggly, trying very hard to be serious, already knowing that his father is going to know how pissed you are... You're not in trouble though, he just tsks at you both and smirks when he offers your wine, a quiet "not that you need it" and a wink when he sees you practically falling asleep on his sons shoulder.

🐀 Isaiah carries you home through the snow, bundling you up into bed with him, cuddled up under the blankets, unable to stop himself waking you up and stealing a good night kiss from you.. one which becomes so much more than just a kiss...

Michael

☘️ Michael would love nothing more than a quiet Christmas, just you, him and his mum... But that's not how being part of the Shelby family works...

☘️ He spends the run up to Christmas stressing about the journey back to England, he's worried about you meeting his family for the first time... Not because he's worried they won't like you, but because he's worried you will see how fucked up his family is and want to run a mile...

☘️ You arrive at Arrow House on the morning of Christmas Eve, you've travelled through the night through snow and freezing wind, but when your car finally makes it up the long winding drive you're taken back by how beautiful it all is... How grand the house is, how very English it all appears to be...

☘️ You're nervous to meet the family, most of all Polly because you're sure her opinion means more to Michael than anything else in the world. If Polly doesn't like you it's over...

☘️ But everything Michael has warned you about... His cousins schemes and manipulative personality... Well you're surprised to see that you don't see anything like it... All you see is one busy, chaotic house packed full of children and adult men who run around pretending to fight and shoot one another much like children...

☘️ You're completely absorbed into family life from the second the servants take your bags... You're overwhelmed by the Shelby family but you can't say you're not pleased...

☘️ Whilst Michael is jumped upon by his cousin's you're swept up by the women, Ada and Lizzie giggling as they mix you up a gin and tonic and show you their hiding place in the kitchen when they need two seconds peace... Not from their children who are running around feral with excitement for christmas, but from the Peaky men who are apparently more of a handful than the children...

☘️ As the evening draws in Michael wants to steal you away but he can't bring himself to because you're sitting on the floor playing with the children.. Arthur is dressed up as Santa asking them all what they want for Christmas...

☘️ But when he invites you to come up and sit in his lap, asks you if you've been a good girl this year Michael has to intervene and save you from his cousin.

☘️ He coughs and very awkwardly speaks up to save you, asks to borrow you for a minute... Lies and says he needs your help in the kitchen... And this lie is obviously met with smirks and jokes because everyone knows he's just jealous of Arthur's stupid flirting...

☘️ He actually apologises for his cousin, it's just you and him in the kitchen and he looks nervous, like he's worried you're going to run off with Arthur... But when you ask what's wrong he shakes his head, says "nothing... Just promise me they haven't scared you off..." you can't help but laugh at that.

☘️ "What? Don't be daft Michael, I love them and I love you!" And he's very glad to hear that, blushing like a teenage boy because he's gone all out to spoil you this Christmas... There's so many gifts under the tree with your name on them but the gift that's most important is in his back pocket... He was going to save it for tomorrow but now that he's got you alone in the kitchen he realises there's no better time to ask you to be his wife than the present...

☘️ So your Christmas Eve ends in Michael getting down on one knee on the kitchen floor surrounded by carrot peelings...

Taglist

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@cocoaflowers

@zablife

@jomarch-wannabe

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbywhore

@kas3ylovesyou

@kxnnxy

@starrykitn

@call-sign-shark

@only-malala

@galactict3a

@darkcastle167

@liliac-dreamer

@impossibleheartflower

@mollybegger-blog

@vanhelsingsbigtoe

[wolfstarlibrarian]

HELLO I was jw what were your favourite fics featuring POC Marauders without the shitty stereotyping 💜

Also thank you librarian for your content. Honestly this is the top tier rec blog in the fandom due to your amazing taste.

Well THIS is a great ask! It’s nice to see fans looking for authentic diversity in fics as opposed to tokenism. Just about all of these fics have been listed on various library lists, but hopefully people enjoying seeing them listed somewhere convenient. Also, this is just a VERY SMALL selection of fics featuring Remus or Sirius as POC, so if you’re looking for more of a certain representation, just send an ask!

Also, a note to authors looking to include representation (other than their own ethnicity) in their next fic: make sure that you read first hand experiences from multiple sources, research with advocacy groups, and THEN try reach out to a peer who can potentially beta/do a sensitivity read for you. It's important that we all try and learn as much as possible on our own before asking our peers to work as our educators. ❤️

POC Wolfstar

Black James & Cuban Sirius

Be My Baby by @remus-john-lupin It’s the summer of 1963, and 18 year old Remus Lupin discovers dance, love, and even himself. (A very romantic and very gay Dirty Dancing AU.)

Latino Remus

Forget-Me-Not by @halictus-writer

For someone who just woke up with amnesia and a bad concussion, Remus Lupin isn't too dispirited. He'll get through it with the help of his friends, taking it one day at a time, as Sirius says. The only (other) problem? There's something important that he's forgetting.

Retrial by phoenixgal

Remus Lupin, host of the popular podcast Retrial, decides to focus on the case of Sirius Black, a man convicted of murdering his high school best friend, for his upcoming season. Remus has gotten too close to his subjects in the past, so he promises himself that won't happen this time.

Desi Sirius

Young Hearts Intertwined by @goodboylupin

There’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding.

Latino Remus & Desi Sirius

A Lucky Mishap by softiejace Of course this would be just Remus’ luck - the library printer breaking when the deadline for his term paper is coming up. And to top it off, the pretty boy he’s been running into all week is there to witness his moment of misery… but maybe he can turn things around?

Sephardic Jewish Remus

Candles in the Darkness by @miraxb

In the winter of seventh year, James, Sirius, and Remus are all carrying their own burdens and fears for the growing darkness in their world. Together, they find comfort and light at the Hanukkah celebration in the Lupin household.

Half Syrian Remus

I Tried Writing Your Name In The Rain, But It Never Came, So I Used The Sun Instead by @prefectmoony

Don’t get Remus wrong. He loves his friends, he does! Loves them to the moon and back in fact. They’re his people, his favorite part of everyday, his found family. He’d do anything for them. But the thing is that doesn’t take away from the very simple fact that his friends are fucking ridiculous. Remus knows this, has known it for five years now. But it doesn’t stop him from startling awake on the morning of his sixteenth birthday surprised by the sound of fireworks exploding in their dormitory and a raucous chorus of “Happy birthday Moony!” being shouted into his ear with jaunty gusto.

Chinese Sirius

got a fascination (with your presentation) by @alifeincoffeespoons

When Remus thought of Oxford as a child, he envisioned turrets, laughter, and an unnameable, unforgettable magic. He did not envision vomiting his breakfast all over himself while standing in the halls of St. Catherine’s College.

Cut Your Bangs by @notmycatsname

"There’s something about him that catches Sirius’s eye. His voice is a little whiny, almost off-key. Sirius has heard it time and time again in the bands that Lily plays through their speakers at their apartment but it sounds more genuine, almost heart breaking, through his voice. Remus’s voice."

Black Remus, Desi Sirius & James

Palo Alto by NachoDiablo

Modern AU set in Silicon Valley. It's easy for Sirius to ignore his mixed-up feelings while he's got Remus all to himself, but when Remus starts dating again, Sirius is forced to figure things out before Remus moves on for good. Or before James and Peter strangle them both.

Japanese Remus and Taiwanese Sirius

kavaluan (means white lily here) by @claudiafekete 1926, Taiwan. Japanese empire's prized colony. Remus needed an interpreter. Sirius volunteered.

Philippino Sirius

Problems with Narrative Structure and the Rules of Manly Engagement [+Podfic] by @xinasvoice

"There were easily six hundred people living in the Paramount building in downtown San Francisco. That was a lot of neighbors to get to know, but it only took a single day of living there for Sirius to notice Remus."

Latino Remus & Japanese-American!Sirius

Discards by @picascribit​ When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he’s into guys. But Remus’s life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

Native American Sirius

Grimsfall by @remus-john-lupin

There is a legend in the old city of Grimsfall that a large, black creature used to emerge from the forest at night, and anyone who met its gaze would be driven to madness before the thing dragged them into the depths of hell.

Mexican Remus & Sirius

A Whole Queer County Fair by @bigblackdogfic Two queer Mexican kids talking, having sex, and feeling their feelings in Arizona.

Indigenous Australian Remus

Among The Gumtrees by WolfstarGarden Sirius inherits his uncle's farm, but finding the right farmhand isn't as simple as he'd hoped: Sirius just couldn’t help but wonder if fantasising about his straight farm assistant was maybe one boundary breach too far. On the other hand, perhaps Remus shouldn’t suck on the end of his pen while lost in thought.

South American Remus

The Delegate by @wanderingbandurria

It’s 1921, and Sirius Black is a sailor that wants to prove himself as a political agitator. He sets foot in a lost, forgotten port in South America, where he’s supposed to help with the local organization of syndicalists. He’s not expecting to meet a brown-eyed man who is there to help put his words into Spanish. A man that’s really not interested in anything but doing his job. Nothing more.

Thai Sirius

Whatever Words I Say -orphaned fic

When Remus Lupin is hired to control the antics of famous lead singer of the Marauders, Sirius Black, he knows he has his work cut out for him. Sirius is contrary and has absolutely no chill, and loves pissing off the press. Remus feels up to the challenge, but he certainly does not expect to fall head over heels in love from the moment he meets the charismatic singer.

Something Beautiful -orphaned fic When Remus Lupin’s ex talks him into a drunken tattoo mistake, he goes to his friend and co-worker Lily for help. Luckily her husand’s best mate is a tattoo artist who can help with the cover up. Unfortunately for Remus, the tattoo in in a rather compromising area, and he’ll have to get over his embarrassment. Luckily for him, Sirius Black is just the man for the job.

So many fics and yet so many more to go! As always, feel free to reblog with your own recs!

[jemelle]

reflections {ncis}

rating: g

pairing: n/a, ziva david & abby sciuto

summary: 'Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they?' (or: Ziva & Abby celebrate Hanukkah)

a/n: set season 3 aka 2005. written for day 10 of the holiday special organized by @blakes-dictionxry, though i did stretch the prompt (when do i not?) i’m not Jewish, so if i’ve misrepresented something, please let me know! thank you for reading and chag chanukah sameach!

my masterlist

you can also read this story on ao3 here!

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." – Edith Wharton

Ziva is supposed to be on vacation. Right now, she should be at a nice hotel outside of Annapolis, taking a bubble bath and reading the kind of magazines that Tony would never let her live down. It’s the day after Christmas, after all. Judging from the way some people in this country act, if anyone should be able to convince people to hold off on committing crimes for a few days, it’s the Christian God. Yet somehow, she’s still at work.

The phone call had come at eight in the morning, jolting Ziva out of a rare lie-in. She had reached for the receiver in the darkness, cursing loudly in Hebrew as her hand banged into the lamp on the side table.

“What is it?” she had groused without bothering to check the caller ID, voice still heavy from sleep. There was only one person who would dare disturb her this early, and she already had a good idea of what Gibbs was going to say.

“We got a case,” was the response, much as she had expected. Ziva had sighed, hanging up and running a hand through her unkempt hair. She really did not get paid enough for this.

In the end, it had turned out to be a simple case. One hard look at the brother and he had confessed, a jealous rage taken too far. No red herrings, no international crime syndicates. A waste of their investigative skills, if she’s being honest. 

The case itself had finished around four in the afternoon, but then there was the paperwork, and it was entirely possible Ziva had been putting off last week’s work as well. By the time she’s finished all of that, it’s too late to drive to her (non-refundable, she feels the need to add) reservation if she wants to arrive at a reasonable hour.

She’s getting ready to leave, promising herself that she can still salvage what’s left of this day, when McGee tells her that she’s needed urgently in Abby’s lab. As far as Ziva can remember, she hasn’t asked Abby for anything recently, so she approaches the lab carefully, half-expecting to find a sobbing Abby on the floor. Why Tony and Tim expect her to be able to deal with emotions, she’ll never understand. She may be a woman, but Ziva thinks she’s proven time and time again that emotional connection is not her forte.

The lights are dimmed when Ziva rounds the corner into Abby’s lab, but Abby herself is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ziva sees a neatly set table with two place settings and, strangely, a hanukkiah. 

Tonight is the second night of Hanukkah. Ziva knows that– she had packed her own hanukkiah in her suitcase, intending to light it and pray when she reached her hotel room. But, to the best of Ziva’s knowledge, Abby isn’t Jewish.

Ziva raps lightly on the door to the lab, watching as Abby emerges from a shadowed back corner of the room. She sure can hide, Ziva will give her that. 

“What is this?” Ziva asks, gesturing at the spread in front of her.

“Happy Hanukkah!” Abby says, as if that answers the question. She steps further out of the shadows and Ziva can see that she’s holding a frying pan. 

“Thank you.” Ziva is confused, to put it mildly. While she appreciates the sentiment, she's still no closer to understanding the rationale behind Abby’s actions.

“Well, I thought… you don’t really have any family in D.C, so I researched what to do!” Abby approaches the table, depositing what Ziva can now see are latkes on the plates. Leaving the pan on the nearest lab surface, she flicks on the lights, displaying blue and white garlands hung around the room. “I even got you a present!”

“Oh, Abby.” She really is touched, especially given the rocky start their relationship had gotten off to. This is a gesture she might expect from Jenny (well, at least the dinner portion. She doesn’t think Jenny has ever been one for tinsel), but Abby doing this is a true testament to her giant heart.

“But?” Abby prompts, and Ziva forgot that while Abby is kind, she is first and foremost always willing to speak her mind. 

Ziva feigns innocence, the best she knows how to. “But what?”

Abby pouts. “There’s a but, I can tell.”

No one is immune to the Abby pout. Ziva relents, sitting down in one of the chairs and motioning for Abby to join her.

“It is just that Hanukkah is not very big in Israel.” 

If Ziva were home right now, she would probably be helping to light Rivka’s family menorah, saying her blessings, and (Ziva’s personal favorite) having latkes and sufganiyot. When she was eight, Ziva had eaten so many sufganiyot that she’d sworn off them forever. Naturally, her family had never let her live that down. They had been a family once, before Eli had left and Tali had died and Ari had become someone she no longer recognized.

“It’s not?” Abby’s voice pulls Ziva out of her memories.

“No. It is a big deal in America because Christmas is such a big deal. Children see all their friends getting presents and they want them too. In Israel, Hanukkah is about family.” Sure, there are parties and festivals, but none of this extravagant gift-giving she has seen in America. Ziva has nothing against adapting traditions, but the American celebrations hold nothing of value to her.

Abby’s face falls, and Ziva mentally kicks herself. “It is lovely, though,” she says, reaching past Abby to dim the lights again. There. Without the garlands in sight, it reminds her much more of the Hanukkahs she remembers.

“I know I wasn’t always… the nicest to you,” Abby says, and Ziva laughs, because that is the understatement of the century. “But… I really like you, Ziva David, and even if I didn’t, you’re part of our family now.”

Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Though they are her team by definition, the word team can’t possibly encompass all they meant to her. 

Gibbs is the only one who knows her secret and the only one she would have trusted with it. Tony and McGee are always by her side, ready to insult or defend her at a moment’s notice. Ducky is an ever-friendly ear and Jimmy a kind presence. Ziva includes Jenny in her count as well, though she isn’t sure Jenny would have included herself; she is always watching out for them, playing the games none of the rest of them want. And here is Abby, so different from Ziva in almost every regard, trying to make her feel at home.

If she were more sentimental, Ziva would call it a miracle. She had lost her first family a long time ago, even if Eli and Rivka are still alive. That a group of people are willing to accept her, to give her a second chance, makes her heart swell and her eyes water in an utterly un-Ziva fashion.

A tear must escape her eye, because before she knows it Abby is handing her a tissue. Ziva takes it, only slightly mortified, dabbing at her eyes until they’re dry. 

“I am okay,” she says in response to Abby’s unasked question. 

Wordlessly, Abby pulls a square box out of her pocket and slides it across the table. It’s wrapped in patterned paper, sparkling white stars against a midnight blue sky. Ziva slides a careful finger under the seam of the paper, trying not to rip it. 

Inside is a plain white mug. Ziva picks it up with two hands, spinning it around to reveal a simple Z printed on it.

“Thank you, Abby,” she says sincerely, before chuckling. “Now Tony will not be able to pretend he accidentally forgot which coffee mug is his.”

Abby’s smile drops, and she looks as though she might cry. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, but no sound escapes. Ziva waits patiently, because getting information out of Abby when she’s not ready to speak is like trying to get an internationally wanted criminal to talk.

When she finally speaks, Ziva has to strain to hear her. “I’m sorry… it’s just that the way you said that reminded me of Kate. I miss her.”

“Kate sounds like a wonderful person,” Ziva says. When she had first joined, that might have been a lie. She had quickly gotten sick of hearing how amazing Kate had been, of trying to measure up to a ghost. Now, Ziva knows that she can’t try to be anyone but who she is, and she only wishes she could have met the woman who apparently was more than a match for Tony.

“She was,” Abby responds, and now she’s the one who’s crying.

Ziva leans across the table, letting Abby hold her hands while she sobs. After a little while, Abby lets go, wiping her eyes with another tissue pulled from the depths of her lab coat. Absent-mindedly, Ziva picks up the matchbox lying by the hanukkiah, turning it over in her hands.

“Do you know the story of Hanukkah?” she asks. Abby shakes her head, eyes still watery. Ziva smiles, letting her head fill with memories of Hanukkahs past, she and Tali and Ari all clamoring to be the one to tell the story.

“Well,” Ziva says, striking a match against the box and using the match to light the shammash, the tallest candle in the hanukkiah. She removes the candle from its holder, using it to light the first and second candles, before returning it to its place, Abby watching her raptly the entire time. “Although I could begin in many, many places, our story really starts with a temple in the city of Jerusalem...”

tags: @robins-gf, @chmpgneprblms

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Hanukkah Thoughts

One

The past two years, I’ve lived in a house where the landlady banned candles. She also put up a Christmas tree every year in the living room. I didn’t really mind that the tree was there; it didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t really think I minded not being able to light the menorah, either.

At the beginning of this month, I moved to a new place. I got a menorah and candles, and I lit the shamash and sang the prayers.

It felt like getting a piece of myself back.

Two

I’m using “Hanukkah” in this blog post. I could just as easily use “Chanukah” instead; I’d feel the same way about it.

They’re both wrong. That’s how I see it. Sometimes you’re just stuck with using the wrong word as a label so that you can communicate with people who can’t understand you. It will always be spelled correctly – in Hebrew – in my heart.

Three

Last year I told myself that every time someone at work told me “Merry Christmas” when it was Hanukkah, I would reply, “Happy Hanukkah!” I didn’t end up doing it every time, but I got braver about it the further into the week I got.

There were never any outright negative reactions, thank G-d. Mostly people seemed confused. They would do a double take as they walked away from me, as though wondering if they’d heard me correctly.

“Merry Christmas!” one woman said late in the week.

“Thanks, Happy Hanukkah!” I said.

“That’s right!” she said with a big grin and a little laugh. “And Kwanzaa!”

It was not Kwanzaa.

Four

I’ve never made latkes before, and in hindsight, it’s a little bit funny just how nervous I got about it.

I didn’t have an exact recipe to follow; my mom’s more of a trial-and-error cook than one with exact recipes. I’ve never deep fried anything in my life – I usually don’t eat fried things at all – and I don’t have a sense of smell to tell me if something’s burning. I hovered over the oven, equally afraid of flipping the pancakes too soon and too late and wondering if I could tell the difference. I hate wasting food. I hate being wrong. I preemptively hated creating latkes that tasted wrong.

My latkes were soft, but beautiful and sweet, and every bite I took made me want another.

For the second round of latkes I made, a couple nights later, I brought over a chair and let the latkes – and myself – sit for a while. They were even better than the first batch.

Five

This year, I decided to take a step up in courage, and make “Happy Hanukkah” my casual greeting for people at work during these eight days.

On the first day, a woman told me, “Merry Christmas,” and I automatically replied, “Happy Hanukkah.” She looked at me like she thought I was being snide with her. I wasn’t… not intentionally, at least.

Another woman got very excited when I told her, “Happy Hanukkah.”

“You said the thing that applies to you; I love it!” she said, as though it had never occurred to her before that someone might do that. She turned to her husband. “Did you know it was Hanukkah?”

I got one enthusiastic “Thank you!” from a man wearing a kippah, who told his children to say “Thank you” as well.

The most common reaction I’ve gotten this week by far is laughter. It’s never been malicious laughter, thankfully. It’s more of an “oh how silly” laughter, as they walked away. How silly of that strange young woman at Disney World to say, “Happy Hanukkah” instead of “Merry Christmas.”

How silly of me indeed.

Six

Each night, we use the shamash – the helper candle – to light the other candles. Each night, the shamash is used to light more candles than the night before.

The shamash is never lessened by this work. As it lights each candle, its light remains as bright as ever, and soon there is enough light for everyone, as together, the candles light the room around them.

I don’t think I need to spell out the metaphor, but I think we could all benefit from seeing ourselves as like the shamash.

Seven

I don’t see the point of saying “Happy Hanukkah” when it isn’t Hanukkah. I don’t see the point of saying “Merry Christmas” when it isn’t Christmas. It seems like the only reason to do that is to tell everyone that you think Xmas is the most important thing in the world this time of year.

I’m not interested in telling anyone that Hanukkah is the most important thing in the world. It’s important to me and my people. I don’t need it to be important to anyone else.

I’ll say Hanukkah when it’s Hanukkah, and I’ll say Christmas when it’s Christmas. For the rest of the month, I’ll stick to “Happy Holidays.”

Eight

Every year, someone points out that Hanukkah isn’t actually an important Jewish holiday. I’m guilty of this, too.

When we say this, though, we don’t really have anything against Hanukkah. We’re reacting to our frustration that Hanukkah is the only thing that Christians and culturally Christian atheists usually know about Judaism. As we react to their excitement about Hanukkah, we also react to their lack of interest in anything else in our culture.

My elementary school teachers asked my parents to come teach my class about Hanukkah. My parents replied that they would come if they could also teach about Shabbat and the High Holy Days, and other important things in Judaism. So, my parents never came to teach my class about Judaism, and I’ve known my whole life that this is the only part of my culture that the gentiles pretend to care about.

Hanukkah is Hebrew for “dedication.” When the Seleucid Empire banned the practice of Judaism, they invaded Jerusalem and desecrated the holy temple there. They claimed our temple for themselves, setting up idols to their own gods. After the war was won, the Maccabees had to rededicate the temple to our own religion.

Gentiles’ excitement about Hanukkah feels like they’ve claimed it for themselves. They’ve decided that it’s the “Jewish Christmas.” They have one character wear a Hanukkah sweater in their Christmas specials, they put Hanukkah decorations on one of the many Christmas trees they put up in public places, and they sing one Hanukkah song on their Christmas albums. They’ve even put a Jewish family in a Hallmark Christmas movie – and they act like they’ve done us a favor by “including” us in their Xmas cheer.

It’s no wonder that many Jews today feel the need to distance themselves from Hanukkah. It feels like it’s no longer ours.

We need to rededicate Hanukkah. We – the Jewish people – need to remember and identify what makes it special to us, separate from how it makes the gentiles feel. We need to, for just a moment, forget about the rest of the world and think about why we light these candles, why we say these prayers, why we tell these stories, why we eat this food, why we play these games.

We need to reclaim this part of ourselves, this part which is too often taken away from us. I believe this will make us happier than putting it down year after year, and that it will be more spiritually fulfilling than simply going with the flow of Xmas cheer.

[always-andshewrites]

This is how I imagine Madge’s “Box” looks like in “Another Way Out”.  This particular box belongs to my son, a Hanukkah gift from his grandparents a few years ago.  In place of “Happy Chanukah - 2018 - Love, Papa & Grandma”, imagine Madge’s initials... M. A. U.

| Madge |

 “Madge, hey Madge, wait up!” I turn my head to see who is calling my name.  After Katniss and Peeta left, I stopped by the mayor’s house for Kizzie’s piano lesson.  Mayor Kadinski offered to give me the day off because of all the festivities today, but I insisted it was okay.  Really, I did it more for myself than for Kizzie, as selfish as that is.  But with the stress of what my friends will be faced with, I needed my music.  I needed for my fingers to press the familiar keys and for my mind to be inundated with the soothing melody of Nocturne #20 in C Sharp Minor.  It is my go-to piece when I am stressed out.

 “Hey Rye, what are you doing all the way out here?” I ask him, slightly confused.  We are on the edge of town, almost in the Seam and pretty far from the bakery.

 “Sorry— let me— catch my— breath!” He huffs.  I stop walking to give him a minute to regain control of his lungs.  His hair is a disheveled mess, and he has that same goofy grin that he always wears.  “Geez, you walk fast.” He finally says after a moment.

 I raise an eyebrow, not sure what he means.  “I do?” ‘Well, I was on the track team, back when Katniss and Peeta were in school.’ I smirk silently to myself.

 “Yeah, I’ve been trying to catch up with you since the fourth house past the mayor’s mansion— which is when I finally decided to yell your name.”

 “Oh, okay.  Well, what’s up?”

 “Oh, yeah.  Right.  Um, so Peet said I could come find you and you would give me a key to his house.  He said I could stay there some while he was gone.”

 “Oh yeah.  Peeta told me you would probably ask for it.  If you want to follow me to my house, I can give it to you.” 

 “Okay, cool.” Together we continue walking, making our way to my house.  I am thankful for Rye’s constant joking banter, keeping away from any serious talk until I can just barely make out the silhouette of my house.

 “Madge, something is going on with Katniss and Peeta, and I think Haymitch might be in on it, I’m not sure.  But I’m worried about my little brother.  I know you have been friends with them for a long time, so . . . I don’t know, maybe this is a long shot, but do you know anything?  I swear, I’m not trying to be nosy, I’m just worried.  I’m actually— Madge, should I be worried?”

 His question takes me by surprise, it was the last thing I ever expected to hear from the school's number one jokester, Rye Mellark.  The shock freezes me in place for a split-second, but I quickly resume walking, refusing to meet his eyes.

 “Rye, it’s not safe to speak right here.” I whisper, keeping my eyes trained forward.  “When we’re in class tomorrow, I will tell you where we can meet to talk.”  I never look over to see if he heard me and then my heart accelerates when I realize my house is within a few steps.  “I really love the cookies at the bakery!” I chirp, finally meeting his eyes.  He nods, understanding the message I was trying to convey.

 I reach into my pocket, retrieving my house key and unlock my door.  Rye follows me inside, closing the door behind him.

 “This is really nice Madge.” Rye says, trying to be polite when he looks around at the tiny home.  I roll my eyes and make my way into the kitchen where I stowed Peeta’s key.  He asked me to keep it in a secure location in case either Rye or his dad were to ask for it.

 “It’s okay Rye, I know it’s shit here.  But I’m making it work.  I don’t need much.” I tell him, discreetly pulling the key from its secret location.  Just in case Rye saw it, I’ll have to move my box somewhere else.  I can’t risk anyone finding out about its contents.

 I walk over to Rye and hand him the key to Peeta’s house.  “Here you go.  Don’t lose it, I don’t have another one.”

 “Thanks Madge.  See you at school tomorrow?”

 “See you at school tomorrow.” I confirm.

 Once Rye is gone, I plop down on my couch and look around the house.  Where can I move my box? I ask myself.  My tiny little box, handcrafted by my very own father from the wood of an oak tree is no more than seven and a half inches wide, four and a half inches long, and about two inches deep.  For the moment, it only houses Katniss’ house key, my special book, a letter my father wrote me and two letters I found that my mother wrote me.  Rose gave me the first letter from my mother after they died.  In each letter, mama has left a trail of breadcrumbs leading to another letter; scattered throughout the district.  Oh, and there is also this coin my father left me.  I haven’t figured out its purpose, but it must be important, otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered keeping it a secret.

 I am constantly moving my box, afraid of someone finding it.  I alternate between a few hiding spots in a few select trees but having it in my house makes me feel safer.  Somewhere within reach.

 I stand up and begin pacing the floor of the living room.  “Why is Rye worried?  Did he see something?  Hear something?  Did Peeta tell him anything?” I ask myself, still looking for a new hiding place for my box.  Just then, the floorboard creaks under my foot.  I take a step back and it creaks again.  Curiosity overtakes me and I get down on my knees to inspect the plank, only to find it loose.  It’s loose, but not that loose.  Eventually, I am able to pry it up.

 “Holy shit!” I exclaim when I see what is hidden underneath the floorboard.  It is a hidden compartment, a perfect place for my box.  But there is something else here too.  It looks like someone else had the same idea as me.  It is a box, almost the exact same dimensions as mine, except it has a mockingjay carved on the face of it, where my box displays a tree, with my initials engraved on the inside.

 I switch the boxes out and replace the plank, sliding my couch over it.  No one ever comes over here, and if Gale happens to pop in, he will just think I rearranged the room.  As if on cue, the moment I am done, there is a knock at the door.

 “Gale.” I say, surprised when I see him.

 “Everything okay?” He asks, raising a brow.

 “Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” I tell him, trying to play it cool.

 “Can I come in?” He asks me.

 “Oh, yeah.  Yeah, of course.” I widen the door for him to come in and then wrap my arms around his neck, needing the security of his touch.

 Something is wrong though; I can sense the tension in the air.  I pull back to meet his eyes and ask, “Is something wrong?”

 “Vick said he thought he saw Rye Mellark over here.”

 “He saw right.” I confirm, nodding.

 “What was he doing over here?” Oh, I see, jealous Gale is coming out to play.

 “He came to get Peeta’s house key.”  His eyes narrow at my statement; I do not like where this is going.

 “Why did you even have it?” He demands, his eyes narrowing as he glares daggers at me accusingly.

 “What’s with the third-degree Gale?” I demand, narrowing my own eyes and furrowing my brows.  I can glare just as efficiently as he can; better even.

 “I don’t like Rye Mellark; I don’t want you talking to him.  He’s a townie, and bad news at that.”

 “I’m sorry, what did you say?  You don’t want me talking to him?  Who are you, my father?  And just in case you forgot, I’m a townie too Gale!” I scream at him, feeling the blood in my body begin to simmer.

 “He’s an asshole and I don’t want you talking to him Madge.  And you’re not a townie, you live here in the Seam, same as me.”

 “Okay, first of all Gale Hawthorne, I was born and lived in town up until six months ago.  I have “townie” friends that I’m not just going to abandon simply because of a change in venue.” I don’t realize it, but with each word that escapes my mouth, my voice seems to get higher; louder; angrier.  “Second of all, you do NOT tell me who I can or cannot talk to.  I am a big girl Gale; I can take care of myself and I think it’s time you left.” I walk over to the door and open it, motioning for him to leave.

 “Madge, I—”

 “GET OUT!” I scream even louder.

 His shoulders are hunched over as he walks out the door and then I slam it behind him just as he turns around and says my name.

 “Fucking shithead.  Asshole, mother-fucker!” I scream to no one.  “Who does he think he is, telling me who I can talk to?  I don’t think so, Rye is my friend and I’ll talk to him whenever I damn well please!” I rant; although no one is listening, it feels satisfying to yell the words out loud.  I wish Katniss was still here, I bet she’d march over there and slap him or something.

 “Pgh.  Tell me what to do, Gale Hawthorne?  I don’t think so.”

Read the whole story on my A03 page: (I hope I did this right!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679952/chapters/72665136#workskin

[engl425]

Switching Calendars

Do we make history, or does history make us? I used to think history was made, a once-present-now-past told and seen in the light of context, some cumulative or aggregated sense that discerns meaning from hindsight with the application of perspective. History was a way of knowing what happened when I wasn’t alive. But living through 2020 felt like living history in the making; we were the stories future generations would hear. Surely, this must always be true, but the significance of events in 2020 made the truth more apparent. Though, having said that, I don’t think it’s any less true that we also, in fact, make history. Our editing and curatorial role chooses the frame, lays down the narrative. And while we’re at it, let’s just say “histories” because if we make it, it must be multiple. And likely therefore contested. 

Apparently, I woke up this morning, January 1st, in a new year. The fairy tale stroke of midnight bolted into our world and restarted the timeline. Media and social media messaging have avidly proclaimed this reset, longed for it as if it were real. But how real is it? Does 2021 have to be different, easier, better than 2020? Yes, we need our benchmarks, yes, we need to cut time’s ribbon into measurable quantities, but do we also need to make room for history to just keep unfolding? Or if “need” is the wrong term in the latter case, perhaps we ought to make room for history to just keep unfolding. Isn’t the present as full of the past as it is any future we might desire? Or perhaps making room for history to keep unfolding is just another way of saying let the present be the present, make yourself spacious enough for now.

I suppose there is something not entirely arbitrary about a new year. We have an annual path around the sun. We have solstices and equinoxes that mark our tilt and spin. January 1st isn’t that far removed from December 21st and Christmas and Hanukkah and other festivals of light. Our need to punctuate how life ends and begins again is real both at a seasonal scale and a personal one. (Personally, for me, if I’m going to be spacious enough for now, I need some resting points along the way.) And the fact that we place our religious observances in line with the seasonal (and cyclical) calendar is more evidence of how we make not just history, but time itself, even as it makes us.

And speaking of multiple histories, who is this “we” of which I speak? At the very least, American; at the next very least, “Western” (another notation both real and invented and entirely relative — west of what?). This year, 2021, got its launch in 1582, when Pope Gregory XIII, wanting to realign Easter with the spring equinox, announced the Gregorian calendar. It took over 300 years to become globally accepted. Alternative calendars co-exist (though not perhaps with the same heft as world currencies to the dollar). Among them, the Islamic calendar in which we are 1442 years out since Muhammad (peace be upon him) emigrated from Mecca to Medina; the Hebrew calendar in which we are 5781 years out from the genesis of creation; the Chinese calendar in which we are rotating through 60-year cycles, currently moving from the Gold Rat to the Metal Ox. 

I suppose a deep affinity for significance drives all these human attempts to classify time. Without measurement, without reference points, the relative does not exist and we are left to tread the waters of the absolute, and that is a significance too significant for most of us to bear. Instead, we look for a significance we can get our arms around (or maybe through like a life jacket), so we can dwell in meaning without drowning.

Photo credit: Liz Wuerffel

[reading-writing-revolution]

Heather Cox Richardson:

December 9, 2020 (Wednesday)

Today’s big story remains the loss of our neighbors to Covid-19. Today, our official death count passed the number of those killed in the 9-11 attacks. On that horrific day in 2001, we lost 2977 people to four terrorist attacks. Today, official reports showed 3,140 deaths from Covid-19, the highest single-day toll so far. Hospitals are overwhelmed, our health care workers exhausted.

As the country suffers, Trump has launched a new approach in his attempt to steal the 2020 election. While he has previously insisted that he actually won, and that his “win” must be recognized, this morning he tweeted simply “OVERTURN.” Republican leaders have ducked the question of Trump’s refusal to acknowledge Joe Biden’s win in the election by saying that the president has a right to challenge an election through legal means. Few of them commented on this new attack on our democracy.

Instead, the Republican attorneys general of seventeen states supported a lawsuit Texas has asked the Supreme Court’s permission to file against Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, suing them over their voting processes. A majority of voters in those four states voted for Biden, thus giving him their state’s electoral votes and the presidency. The states that want to sue are all Republican-majority states. They are hoping they can get the Supreme Court to allow them to sue, and that it will then agree with their complaint and throw out the votes from those states so the Republican legislatures there can then choose their own electors and give the win to Trump.

Astonishingly, this argument comes from the party that claims to oppose “judicial activism.”

The states that have declared their support for Texas’s lawsuit are: Missouri, Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Utah, and West Virginia. They are essentially asking the Supreme Court to disfranchise the majority in the United States and to let them put their chosen president in the White House. This assault on American principles is breathtaking.

Trump has also filed a motion to join Texas’s lawsuit in his personal capacity as a presidential candidate. His lawyer says that he “seeks to have the votes cast in the Defendant States unlawfully for his opponent to be deemed invalid.” Tonight, at a White House Hanukkah party, Trump told the crowd that with the help of “certain very important people, if they have wisdom and if they have courage, we are going to win this election.” The attendees chanted “four more years.”

Legal experts say this case is a non-starter. University of Texas Law Professor Steve Vladeck writes, “It is lacking in actual evidence; it is deeply cynical; it evinces stunning disrespect for both the role of the courts in our constitutional system and of the states in our elections; and it is doomed to fail.”

But the fact that Republican leaders have accepted, rather than condemned, this attempt to overturn a legitimate election says they are willing to destroy American democracy in order to stay in power. On CNN tonight, former Ohio Governor John Kasich, a Republican himself, called the lawmakers supporting Trump’s attack on democracy “morally and ethically bankrupt.”

Republicans might be stoking attacks on our electoral system because they know the courts will shut them down. After all, Trump’s lawyers are currently 1-51 in court, and it is unlikely the Supreme Court will take up Texas’s lawsuit. So siding with Trump is a cheap way for leaders to avoid alienating his voters when they will want those voters in 2022.

But they are playing a deeply cynical and wildly dangerous game. Yesterday, the official Twitter account of the Arizona Republican Party asked followers if they were willing to die to overturn the election, then posted a clip from the film “Rambo” in which the main character is threatening someone’s life, saying “This is what we do, who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something.”

Today, talk show host Rush Limbaugh told his listeners that they are, in fact, still a majority but they are plagued with “RINOs” who are selling them out. “I actually think that we’re trending toward secession,” he said. “I see more and more people asking what in the world do we have in common with the people who live in, say, New York? What is there that makes us believe that there is enough of us there to even have a chance at winning New York? Especially if you’re talking about votes….” (New York City has more people than 40 of the 50 states.) He went on: “There cannot be a peaceful coexistence of two completely different theories of life, theories of government, theories of how we manage our affairs. We can’t be in this dire a conflict without something giving somewhere along the way.”

The theme of civil war, and of America tearing itself apart, was one pushed hard by Russian operatives in 2018. On Twitter, “Civil War” trended today. An actual civil war is highly unlikely, but the unwillingness of leaders to stop this language is already leading to death threats against election officials. The longer they permit it to go on, the worse things will get.

Republicans are working to undermine the incoming Democratic administration in other ways, too. Last week, Attorney General William Barr announced that he appointed U.S. Attorney John Durham as special counsel in October to investigate the FBI agents who worked on the investigation into Russia’s interference in the 2016 election. While the law about special counsels says they must come from outside the government, Barr claims to have found a loophole in that rule. Durham can be fired only for specific reasons such as conflict of interest or misconduct. Senate Judiciary Chairman Lindsey Graham (R-SC) applauded the appointment and the continuation of the investigation.

Today Biden’s son Hunter told the media that he has just learned that he is under investigation by the Department of Justice for tax issues, although CNN suggested it is a much wider financial investigation than that, and that it began in 2018. The Justice Department is also investigating a company related to Joe Biden’s brother James. While the DOJ is supposed to be independent of the president, these investigations echo Trump’s own calls for such investigations. Immediately Representative Ken Buck (R-CO) called for a special counsel to investigate Hunter Biden, and tonight, Trump tweeted that “10% of voters would have changed their vote if they knew about Hunter Biden…. But I won anyway!”

House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) told Fox News Channel personality Laura Ingraham today that Representative Eric Swalwell (D-CA) should be “removed from Congress” after an Axios report that a Chinese intelligence operative had worked to ingratiate herself with California lawmakers between 2011 and 2015. The operative targeted a number of politicians, including Swalwell, and she fundraised on his behalf, but there is no evidence she broke any laws. In 2015, FBI officers alerted Swalwell, who immediately cut all ties to her. He was never accused of any wrongdoing. The operative left the country unexpectedly during the FBI investigation.

Although the Axios story was about Chinese espionage, right-wing media is aflame with attacks on Swalwell in what seems an attempt to discredit a Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee. Don Jr. tweeted that Swalwell “was literally sleeping with a Chinese spy,” an allegation that is nowhere in the story, although the story mentions that two unidentified midwestern mayors had affairs with her.

The White House appears to be trying to sabotage the Biden administration not only by keeping the Biden team from information it needs, but by tying its hands and slowing it down. The day after the election, the Trump administration proposed a new rule requiring the new Department of Health and Human Services appointees to review most of the department’s regulations by 2023. The rule would automatically kill any regulations that haven’t been reviewed by then. This would mean that, just as the new administration is trying to fight the coronavirus, it would be slammed with administrative paperwork. The department’s chief of staff denies the unusual move is political, saying that a review is necessary because one hasn’t been done for 40 years.

Now that the transition process has finally started, Trump loyalists are blocking meetings, or sitting in on them to monitor what is being said, especially at the Environmental Protection Agency. At Voice of America, Trump’s appointed head, Michael Pack, has refused to give meetings or records to Biden’s team. For their part, Biden’s transition folks are avoiding fights in order to get whatever information they can.

Republican senators are also signaling that they intend to delay confirmations on Biden’s nominees, although in the past 95% of Cabinet nominees have had hearings before an inauguration, and 84% of those were approved within three days. Senator John Cornyn (R-TX), for example, questioned the experience of Biden’s nominee for Secretary of Health and Human Services, Xavier Becerra. Becerra is the Attorney General of California, and he sat on the House Committee on Ways and Means, which oversees health issues, during his 24 years in Congress. “I don’t know what his Health and Human Services credentials are,” Cornyn told The Hill. It’s not like [Trump’s HHS Secretary] Alex Azar, who worked for pharma and had a health care background.”

[justanoutlawfic]

Home: Sentimental (Red Snowing)

I was looking at close up pictures of Emma's nursery and was inspired to make this off the little details.

Also on AO3/FF

Snow hadn’t been lying when she returned from the Enchanted Forest after the curse broke. Emma’s nursery was truly in shambles. Ruby could remember how much hard work and dedication went into putting it together. David and the dwarfs had built the crib. The unicorn mobile was a gift from Cinderella and Thomas. All of the toys had been picked out by the three of them. Geppetto had taken a break from carving the wardrobe to make a beautiful dollhouse with tiny wooden dolls that resembled the dolls and Snow. There was a prince charming doll, along with plenty of other princess ones and stuffed animals. They had purchased an abacus and other things their new daughter would need as she grew. The three of them had put everything up together. There was a place for everything. As always, Snow had a method to her madness.

 Now, that was all for nothing. The crib was turned on its side. Most of the toys had fallen off the shelf and were destroyed. Stuffed animals had footprints dragged across them. Porcelain dolls had cracks in their skin. A teddy bear that never had a chance to be snuggled was already missing an eye as if Emma had loved it her whole life. The unicorn mobile had ended up in Gold’s shop and hadn’t made it back after Pan activated the destruction on the town.

 Lost forever, just like so much of their lives.

 Ruby knew that their second child could not sleep in this nursery. Snow had already selected a second room for them. Even so, Ruby wanted to try to make this old one look at least a little presentable. She couldn’t bare the thought of the place they had put so much work into in such a state.

 As she picked up the broken toys, she moved them into two boxes: one for repair if they looked like they could be and one for those that were too far gone. She looked at the shelf where some of the toys still stood standing. The dollhouse and the tiny wooden dolls had survived. She could see a sheep stuffed animal not far behind them, which brought a small smile to her face. David had found it at a market stand and insisted on buying it. He may have been a prince, but he would never stop being a shepherd at heart.

 “We’ll take her to visit farms when she’s growing up, so she can learn how to feed the animals,” he had told his wives.

 Another dream that died that awful night in this nursery.

 Ruby’s eyes looked upwards on the shelf. The alphabet block they had once purchased were scattered everywhere. Stuffed in the corner was a familiar doll. She picked it up and flicked off the dust. It was handmade, wearing a blue dress and red cape. The doll had dark hair and tiny eyes. Ruby gave it a watery smile as she remembered back to how this toy in particular came to be.

 Red poked her thumb yet again. “Ow!”

David looked up from his book while Snow stopped rubbing lotion on her stomach. “What are you doing, Red?” he asked.

“I’m trying to make a cape for this doll.” She held up the naked figure. “But it’s not working out like I thought.”

“A cape, huh?” David wiggled his eyebrows. “And just why would that doll need a cape?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “She has a prince charming doll, not to mention that lamb you bought for her. Geppetto made the castle and the representation of Snow. I just want her to have something of me.”

“I think that’s a sweet idea,” Snow piped up.

“I’m just not an expert at knitting and sewing like Granny is.”

“She’s going to love it no matter what,” David said. “Because her Mama made it.”

 Ruby held the doll close to her, thinking about how excited she had been to give it to her daughter. They knew the curse was coming but they were doing everything in their power to stop it. They had hope they would get to raise Emma. In the end, not only had she never gotten to sleep in this nursery, she had never gotten anything from it.

 It wouldn’t feel right to give this to the new baby. She’d make he or she something else. In the meantime, she’d save this. She had to have hope that she hadn’t seen her pup for the last time.

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

Christmas in Storybrooke was a huge deal. In the Enchanted Forest, they had the winter solstice with the legend of Father Christmas but that was it. Ruby had to admit she much preferred the holidays in the small town in Maine. Main Street was decorated with bright lights and figurines. They had several festivals and parties to celebrate.

 One holiday that was similar in both the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke was Hanukkah. Ruby hadn’t grown up celebrating it but once she married Snow, she converted. They all agreed their future children would grow up celebrating the holidays that came with both the Catholic and Jewish religions, since David’s family came from the former. Eva’s family had a beautifully handcrafted menorah that was passed down from generation to generation. Luckily, it had ended up in Gold’s shop. The holiday season after the second curse, he had given it to the Lucas-Charming family free of charge, claiming he couldn’t picture charging them for something like that.

 Emma had never celebrated Hanukkah and Ruby loved getting to watch her daughter do it for the first time alongside their 3-month-old son. It was months after the second curse had broken and things were finally returning to some sort of normal. Henry, Regina, Roland and Robin came by as well for the first night since Regina had celebrated Hanukah with Leopold and Snow during their marriage.

 Despite it being their first Hanukkah in Storybrooke, they wanted to follow the same tradition that they had in the past. They exchanged gifts with one another for some of the nights, while giving to charities that they felt important on the others. It had been a tradition that Eva had started a little after Snow was born and her daughter wanted to keep it up with her own family.

 However, this was the first night of Hanukkah and the family had agreed upon sentimental gifts. Snow had repurposed the unicorn mobile into windchimes for Emma. David had crafted a beautiful wooden frame to put his favorite picture of him and Emma standing in front of the sheriff car for her. Ruby knew immediately what she wanted to give her daughter, but she just wasn’t sure if she was going to be okay with it. It was a bit childish, but it was something that Ruby had wanted to give her daughter for 29 years.

 When time came to exchange presents, it was a bit hectic given their large family. Ruby watched as Emma teared up at her new windchimes and grinned widely when it came to the picture frame which include a quote to remember to enjoy “the moments”. Her packages sat awkwardly in her hands. Eventually, everyone else was busy with each other, so Ruby pulled Emma aside.

“If you hate it, I still have a few nights to make up for it,” Ruby only half-teased.

Emma chuckled. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

 She unwrapped the first package which was a storybook that Ruby had made with the help of Henry. Inside was the real story of how both Ruby had met Snow, then how Ruby had David and how they all became a couple. The Author had left it out of the official version of the storybook for some reason and she wanted Emma to have it. It ended on them finding out they were expecting their first child.

“Mama, this is beautiful,” Emma said, flipping through it.

“Henry drew the pictures,” Ruby admitted. “My artistry skills are not that high. But I wanted to give you this to go along with it. It also has a story.”

 She handed Emma the second package and watched her unwrap it. Emma tilted her head when she saw the doll.

 “You got me a version of you?”

“I made it when Snow was pregnant with you,” Ruby explained. “You were meant to have all these toys that represented us as your parents, so I did this. When we all were back in the Enchanted Forest last year, I found it in your old nursery and tucked it away. When we got back to Storybrooke and your mom went looking for the mobile, I found it.”

“This was always meant to be mine?” Emma asked in wonder.

“I know you’re too old to play with it now, but to me it goes with the book. It’s a part of our story, Emma. It’s a part of how I connected to you, even when you were in Snow’s womb. I had all these plans for you and I want you to know they don’t stop just because I didn’t get to raise you…”

 Emma cut Ruby off by pulling her into a hug. Ruby let out a deep breath and hugged her tighter.

“It’s perfect,” Emma said. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.”

“My present’s kind of lame in comparison.”

“Emma nothing you get me could be lame.”

 Emma pulled away from her, gently setting her presents to the side. She picked up a medium sized package and handed it to Ruby.

“Ironically, Henry helped me with my gift as well.”

 Ruby took off the messy wrapping paper to find a basket. Inside of it was a bag of coffee grinds, a Guns N’ Roses CD, a bottle of red hair dye for streaks and finally, a packet of gummy sharks.

“It’s all stuff that made me get to know you under the curse,” Emma explained. “We used to get coffee together when you worked at the sheriff station. We’d listen to rock music in your Camaro. Mom said you were thinking about highlighting your hair again, like you did under the curse so I threw that in. And the gummy sharks were from when we saw that movie together, the first time we bonded after the curse broke. That was the candy you picked.”

 A watery smile flew across Ruby’s face.

 “Oh, and Henry helped me pick the basket. I was going to wrap them individually but he said Little Red Riding Hood would need one.”

Ruby laughed in spite of her tears. “Of course he did.”

 She pulled Emma back into her arms. Maybe she didn’t carry Emma in her stomach, but there was no doubting that their bond was strong enough to last any curse that came their way.

[cotton-buds-writing]

Love Letters - Chapter One

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20815151/chapters/49477481

Word count - 2632

The Forbidden Kiss. We knew that it was wrong, that he was betrothed to my sister. But if this wasn't what he wanted, then why did he come to the field of desire? It was fated that we should meet like this.

     “Hey!” A pillow flew across the room, colliding with a face, “Are we hanging out or what?” A small boy, no older than eleven, Leslie Jacobs, stood in the doorway, dressed in a green button up shirt with his hair gelled back, he looked smart, but that seemed to be a running trait in the Jacobs family. He looked at the teenage boy, about seventeen, David Jacobs, who was led flat on his made-up bed with his legs up against the wall, hair messy and a book in hand,     “I just want to finish this chapter,” David replied, not even bothering to look over at his brother,     At the distant sound of clattering pots and pans erupted from downstairs and a loud “Oh!” , he looked up from his book at the younger boy across from him in confusion,     He quickly marked his page and swung his legs around to face his brother, “Should we go down and help him?” David asked him, Les just shrugged but a girl, their sister, Sarah Jacobs, a few years older than David, came from down the hall, stopping at the door frame.     “He wants to do it himself, but please come and help me set the table,” She asked, leaning against the frame, she smiled, almost smug but still gentle and friendly, Les dropped the pillow on the floor, following her downstairs, sighing, “I hate when dad makes food, it always tastes like butt.”     “Regardless, whatever dad puts in front of you, I want you to take a bite and say 'Mm, just like mum's!' okay?”     “I was still eating smudged peas when mum died!” He answered back.

     Finally reaching the empty dining table, just as David and Sarah went to grab an array of cutlery and dishes, there was a knock at the front door, and without a response, whoever was outside opened it, “Hey!” A tall boy walked in, Jack Kelly, sporting a pair of headphones around his neck and his hands and face covered in different coloured paint,     “Hey,” Sarah walked up to him and greeted him with a smile and began walking over to him once she had put the dishes and such down on the table,     “I’m not too late, am I?” He began kicking off his shoes, dropping them just next to the shoe rack lazily, “I was, uh- trying to mediate but I ended up falling asleep,”     David glanced over from where he was at the dining table, just as Sarah bought Jack into a quick peck,     “Smells good, Dr J,” He turned his direction towards the older man, Mayer, in the kitchen, who was currently taking a dish out of the oven,     “Hey, Jack!” Mayer said back quite joyfully as he set down the food on the kitchen counter.     "Davey,” Jack hastily made his way to the table, giving David a nod then a high five with a smile once he was close enough, Jack left David dazed, smiling like an idiot, and went over to talk to Mayer, “So, uh… what's cooking?” he asked.

-- ❀--

     “Usually, if you just rock this thing back and forth-” The man glanced at the lump of burnt meat that lay in the dish, trying to slice it, having little luck,     “It's supposed to fall off the bone.” Les muttered, leaning on the palm of his hand, on the table, earning him a “Shh,” from his sister,     Mayer looked up to Jack, “Hey, Jack, come hang on to this while I saw, would you?”     Sarah began to stand up, pushing Jack back down, “Hey, you know what, the electric knife is in the kitchen,” She hurried around to where the dish was, “And it'll have that thing ready to eat in two seconds, looks great, Dad, I'll be back.” She took it away and disappeared behind  the wall divider and into the kitchen.     Les slumped back into his chair with a huff, “I can't believe we're not going to see her until Thanksgiving.”     “Hanukkah actually, Scotland's too far to come back for Thanksgiving.” Mayer corrected, sounds from the electric knife in the kitchen could be heard, switching between on and off,     “Wait, are you kidding?" David said, shocked, mouth agape, "We're not gonna see her till Hanukkah?!” He looked upwards from where he was previously slouching in his chair and fiddling with the hem of his jumper,     “Look on the bright side, Sarah won't be taking the car every day, you can practice your driving, and you can take Les to school,”     “I forgot I had to drive with David now…” Les complained, rolling his eyes.     David squinted his eyes at Les," Feel free to take the bus.”     “If you ever need it, I can give you a ride. I'm not disappearing, I'm next door.” Offered Jack, making eye contact with the two siblings,     Les cracked a grin, “Or I can drive, and if we get pulled over, we'll switch places real quick!” He suggested, starting to sit up again,     “Top-notch idea, son.” Mayer gave a smile,     “What'd I miss?” Sarah wandered back in, she was carrying a dish containing meat that was noticeably different, less burnt and more edible,     “We were talking about what a bad driver David is,” Les explained, grinning directly at David,     “Yeah, we were, but we were also talking about airplanes, which speaking of… I have a surprise for you…” Jack spoke up, taking a folded up piece of paper, handing it to Sarah once the dish was sat on the table,     “Oh…?” She hummed as she started to dish up the meal, once everyone had their plates she unfolded it and began to read it over,     “You couldn't come home for Thanksgiving, I figured I'd bring home to you. It's a plane ticket, I'm coming to Scotland.”     “Look at Jack stepping up!” Mayer said gleefully, giving Jack a pat on the back,     “You... You already paid for this?”     “Yeah, I had a Google alert set for flights as soon as you decided you wanted to go to school there.” Jack smiled up at her from his chair,     “Why?” Her expression fell, but she tried to keep a smile on her face, even if it was fake, a frown tugged at Jack's lips, he stayed silent, not exactly sure what to say,     Les coughed, “Mm... Just like mum's…" He tried to clear the awkward silence that had just drifted over the table. 

-- ❀ -- 

I guess I should tell you a little bit about Jack. He and Sarah have been together for the past two years, but before Sarah even cared that he existed, he was my first boyfriend. Well, space between the words… boy who was a friend. I could talk to him about anything, we just really understood one another.

“Okay, would you rather only drink water for the rest of your life, or you can drink whatever you want, but it has to have a drop of pee in it?” David asked Jack, they were both sat on the bleachers, probably their first or second year of high school, spots dotting they’re faces and David sporting a pair of square rimmed glasses. “Clear or yellow?” Jack added on, screwing the lid of his water bottle back on, “It has to be a little yellow.” "I mean, pee. Definitely pee. I can't give up Mountain Dew.” “Yeah, definitely. Pee's the only answer.”

We didn't stop being friends when Jack and Sarah got together, it was just... different.

“Water. Definitely water.” Sarah was sat between the two of them, “Yeah, me too, Definitely ” Jack agreed with her, the same question as before, but a different answer, whether it was a change in thought over the year or because of an influence, it was unknown to David, although he had his suspicions.

They didn't want me to feel left out, so they invited me everywhere, even on dates. They tried to make it as normal as possible, but I still felt like a third wheel. It's not that I wanted to steal my sister's boyfriend or anything. I was super happy for Sarah. She deserves a great guy like Jack. And so I wrote him a letter. I wasn't going to send the letter, it was just for me to understand how I was feeling. But really, I guess it was mainly about how sometimes I imagined what it would've been like if I'd realized how I felt about him sooner.

     “…Making me look like the bad guy!” David’s ears pricked up, he was sat at his desk, a plain box sat on the surface, containing five letters, one of which being addressed to Jack, the sound of yelling could be heard from just outside the house, on the pavement in the street, the scene illuminated by the few streetlights that decorated the street,     “Do you know how hard that was?” Jack yelled back, just as loud as Sarah, throwing his arms out in frustration.     “You shouldn't have in front of them!” The girl retaliated, almost immediately storming away and back into the house, leaving Jack alone in the glow of the streetlights.

My letters are my most secret possessions. There are five total: Romeo from camp, Katherine from seventh grade, Racetrack from Homecoming, Specs from Model UN, and Jack.

I write a letter when I have a crush so intense I don't know what else to do. Rereading my letters reminds me of how powerful and how all-consuming my emotions can be, Sarah would say I'm being dramatic, but I think drama can be fun…

     “ What are you doing?” Sarah’s voice pulled David out of the void that was his thoughts.     “Nothing.” He replied, peaking his head out from where he was sat, on the floor beside his bed, David stuffed the letter he was holding back into its envelope, then back into a small cardboard box, it was plain, just a pen-written ‘Davey’ on, and he shoved the box underneath a pile of blankets that were just beside his un-made bed,

Just as long as nobody else knows about it.

     “Your room's a mess.” Sarah strolled in, leaving the door ajar, there wasn’t a smile sporting her face, nor the same glow in her eyes as before, she sat on the bed, bringing a pillow to her chest, hugging it     David moved from the floor to his bed, sitting opposite his sister, cross legged, squinting his eyes a little, “Are you okay?”     “Yeah.” There was something about her tone that didn’t seem quite right to David, her avoided eye-contact and the way she tried to hide half of her face in the plump pillow in her hands,     “Well…?” Davey encouraged, trying to keep direct eye contact with her, she was probably the only person other than Crutchie that he would willingly hold eye contact with.     “I don't know, I just broke up with Jack.”     “You did what? Why?” He leaned back, putting his weight on his hands, not sure whether to be confused or surprised more,     "Before Mum died, she said I should never go to college with a boyfriend.”     “But you love him.”     “I know.”     “So, do you think you might change your mind?”     “No. No, never." She glanced around his room, changing the subject, "When I was packing for college, I had Dad make a box of things to take to Goodwill. I think you should do it too, I made you a box.”     “I don't really think there's anything I can part with at the moment.”     “Davey, I'm leaving tomorrow. That means you're going to be the oldest sibling. You need to set a good example for Leslie, no gorging on chips before dinner and you really need to clean your room…”     “Can we go back to talking about how you're sad?” David sighed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Sarah says when something is no longer useful, you either donate it, recycle it, or throw it away. I always knew she felt that way about objects but… I didn't think she could feel that about a person.

-- ❀ -- 

     “...Will depart from Gate 39.” A voice announced from the speaker, signalling the arrival of Sarah’s plane, David glanced towards her with sympathetic eyes, a few tears welling up,     “Come here.” Sarah opened her arms, embracing him tightly,     “Hey, you need a magazine.” David pulled back, wiping his eyes with his sleeves, sniffling slightly,     “We'll be right back.” Les spoke up, nodding his head, pulling Mayer off with him towards the newsagent in the corner,     “You gonna be okay?” Sarah waited for the pair to leave before turning her focus to David,     “Did you have to pick the furthest college you could think of? Who am I supposed to eat lunch with?” He pulled back completely, trying to lighten the air,     “I think you should look at this as an opportunity to branch out and make new friends.” She suggested,     “No.”     “You never know what could happen.”     “That's what I'm afraid of.”     “If you need me, I'm a Skype call away.”     “Until you start going to pubs and eating haggis with your Scottish friends, and forget about us.”     “I can promise you, I will never... ever eat haggis.”     “We couldn't decide, so we got you all of them.” Les and Mayer appeared again, holding about ten to fifteen magazines, holding them out to Sarah,     “That's Road & Track, it doesn't sound that interesting, but if you stick with it…” Mayer handed her the magazine, another announcement sounded, so he pulled her in for a hug, “Come here.”     “Alright, I gotta go.” She said, trying to hold back tears of her own. Sarah turned to give each one a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, taking the rest of the magazines, stuffing them in her bag, then began walking towards the gate, dragging a small carry-on suitcase behind her,     “Think she'll turn around?” Les asked hopefully,     “No, that's not Sarah.” David answered truthfully, though secretly wishing that she would,     “Can we have a dog now?” Les asked,     “No, but that's a nice try.” Mayer ruffled the boy's hair a little, nodding his head as if to say that they should get going at this point.

     The journey home was felt off to David, for a reason unknown to him, Sarah’s absence was something that he would have to get used to, but in his mind he couldn’t exactly see anything good happening, of course, fitting in some driving experience would be one thing, but even then, just the thought of having to drive to and from school every day made him anxious, and Les’ insults probably wouldn’t help, though the boy only meant them as a joke, not seriously, and from previous experience, he knew when to stop, he knew where the line was and he never crossed it.     David fiddled with his sleeves, pulling gently at the fraying seams, though, being careful not to fully wreck it, he made a mental note to himself to buy another sweater at some point within the next week seen as messing around with the fraying threads seemed to be a habit of his. He glanced out the window for a moment, noticing how the street lamps and traffic lights reflected off of the wet concrete, creating a mixture of yellow, red, and green, he could hear Mayer and Les bickering, something about whether they bought enough magazines for Sarah, he managed to crack a smile, still sniffing and having to dry his eyes every so often.

Take a deep breath, Dave You'll be just fine.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Apparently my mom became a sort of boss..

Like one day she said Abu was escaping so she said for them to capture him then take him where he wanted to go.

For me, that's some bull shit to stay kidnapped and cry and complain she wouldn't be safe here.

That alone is all you're too much hassle to deal with during Christmas and Hanukkah. You didn't care about 31 of mine, you can stay in the hospital. Instead of us catering around you and your care and trying to enjoy our holidays, minus you and our life is better just as she said during nearly 33 years.

Because every dam day it's gonna be checking on mom and making sure things are okay and dealing with her bullying if she desieres to be one.

I was willing to do it so my dad could see her and us during the holidays and she didnt feel abandoned.

But she can have that feeling.

Of course my other siblings can vote, we set up different possibilities but im not baby sitting her like we were going. Another holiday but not 2 weeks of it.

......

My best friend was trained by my mom in the kitchen. One day she overslept so Abu sent for her father to protect her. And he became an in between from another farm to his daughter's. Neither one were sure who they were with but they felt better. Like how I always felt with her or our friend. Just better. No real reason why. Just better. Stronger and mentally clean. Like happiness isn't a sin.

.....

Our other friend was just a common slave, hidden under the ranks. But he had a guitar and things like that that many others didnt have. He was told to say he stole it. But he found it under a tree around Easter. A gift from God or the Easter Bunny. So he was treated with respect and protected more than other common slaves. Although he himself would protect any one there. As he went to save our friend. But was unable.

He gave lessons and found books of music sheets to learn new songs, here and there, usually tucked in his sheets when it was noticed he was failing at happiness.

While it may seem like only he got gifts... Anyone whom could hear recieved the gift of music and the more he taught others, the more guitars that would appear.

And one day a piano appeared. A small organ piano.

So he was the rockstar in the Queens eyes. Because i knew the Queen would protect him.

....

For our friend in the kitchen unique spices and recipies would appear hidden in the cabinet or sitting on the stove, again starting around Easter. Hers was before and the magic of music after. This granted her a better bed from the Queen and better shoes on Christmas, the kind nurses wear for all the farms kitchen workers, again from the Queen as Abu requested.

As my mother complained she quit cooking because her feet hurt. But refused to do anything about it, including asking the Queen, So i told Abu, i want to beat her face in so bad. And Abu said i have a better idea. Lets prove to the Queen they deserve them, in only the way the Queen will understand.

And so i prayed.

And i knew we won so i growled at my mother. And it scared her. But i did not attack her like a wild animal should, although I wanted to.

....

Abu found people all over that he felt a kindred spirit with so he did all kinds of things for them.

Of course new recipes and new spices induced a fresh day for my friend and fresh taste for all the victims that ate from her kitchen and as Abu saw it working, all the kitchens on all the farms.

....

It came from God, it is true. It did.

But as others have said that i have done a miracle this past week... I say it could not happened without help from other humans.

I choose not to be As critical of myself or Obama (as much as usual) for it being so long they have been kidnapped before I could help them, and since God blessed his human traffic victims with gifts that protected them as provided from Abu and his workers that would slip in the gifts and surprises. It makes it easier to not be so critical of him and myself.

....

The reason I write is because of another dear friend i saw as a father. We call him Hondo.

Because Ms Hindi says he thinks like her.

And Ms Hindi said God says no Christmas for mom. As her punishment as he can review his list.

But Hondo was kidnapped with the promise of surfing down South and he wanted to teach his son.

But instead he became a human traffic victim.

He thought his son had died over a decade and half ago. So he could not return home. He thought he didn't deserve it.

So he told himself it was better to stay with Abu and make sure Abu stays good. And doesnt end up like my mom. So one day, he kept his fingers crossed, that he could promise me i would be safe with Abu. And he could teach me the truth and the difference between him and her.

Then maybe, maybe, God would tell him or he would feel or finally believe he could go home and his wife would not hate him

But at least maybe he could get into Heaven to see her Then because he helped someone that he saw and took care of and loved as he did his own kid.

He uses Matt to send money home on the holidays. And he uses his money from work to hire security and protection for his wife and daughter at home. Matt bought them a new house -- But Matt hes a dork. Was too afraid to So he pretended he bought the trailer they were in and hooked it up and tried to move it. So he apologized with 1 million dollars.

Boys are dumbasses. But it worked!!!

....

So you see that all kinds of people i know but each one are absolutely different.

While Hondo is afraid and ashamed.

My mother is manipulative and egotistical.

One friend has no father But another has had hers nearby and has built a relationship with him. (Our male friend went to pack, not wanting to leave, not knowing who is really behind the move - knowing the bull shit his father is capable of although dead -- they're all the same; while shes with her dad and they had packed the first minute she had)

....

Crates with packing material have been flown in about 2 hours ago and the DNA test kits arrived and some people have been tested.

Like my mother was tested and then compared with my DNA test i had already taken at 23andme.

Some of us were hoping she was buried down in the common slave department. Unfortunately we all know our parents even when we don't want them.

....

My best friend's mom as we were taught is her mom is still alive as is her younger sister and shes got nieces and nephews. But her family is like mine and got mixed with non familial relatives and family. So the DNA tests will come in handy.

Our friend still has his brother and the mom he had has died but the father he was left to is still alive. And hes a good guy, he always said his mom was only good at cooking and he was supposed to ignore her otherwise. So he has his own family to return to, although its a mix of blood and love. His was based on honesty although his father is a horrible criminal, he was raised with as much information as possible. DNA tests will be helpful also, though but not as, we feel, dammed important. Not Because his father is a criminal, we just feel there's honesty.

Hes the same as Declan and so there's no bad to fall upon him, he wasn't asked to be born to him. Or to be born at all.

And so no one really that i know of is to be treated bad at all.

My mom although we aren't giving her what we want for 99.9% of the victims, shes not being punished as far as real punishment goes. We are electing her to get real instead of having fun. So being in a mental hospital or physical hospital instead of being at a house with guards and family time. It happens all the time everywhere. Regardless if you're a human trafficker or new born with cancer or a teenager that no one listens to.

....

So i do hope that everyone understand that the majority over 99.9% didn't want to be kidnapped to be kidnapped and human trafficked.

And a lot of the adults feel guilty and ashamed.

Weak and dumb and a whole list of things that should give them reasons to be hated by their own family.

Like Hondo.

.

So many people think if i do this one thing and it's good to God then i can move on.

So those that have been here 10 years. Not all feel that way but im sure that quite a large handful do.

And those in Iraq will have that mental disturbance.

....

So for y'all at home waiting for your loved ones. Remind them to be safe. Like no hitchhikers and no hitchhiking.

But also remind them that its okay. Its okay they are home.

Our neighbor Hondo was in the Military and took a ride with Jeremiah. We trusted him to a small degree as he was always in the neighborhood and had a charm like a sleezy car salesman.

Which is why they are going to be gifted cars, so they don't take rides with someone they shouldn't trust but do.

And we admit there will be a huge amount of mental issues, thoughts, that will be difficult to deal with for the victims and for the families to give correct advice.

Guidelines of Safety and Emergency Situations will be provided to both the family and the victims.

Like a mental break down is possible. A panic attack is possible.

For both sides.

Step One is to realize the situation. 1. The kidnapped has been released and is free. Breathe. 2. Both the family and victim are loved. Breathe.

Usually there's just a simple "what color shirt do i want to buy?" Can set off a whole fucked up system in the minds. It can happen to a "normal" person. Don't think im not speaking from experience!!

Step Two: step away. Drop the topic. Stop what you are doing. Let someone else handle it. Or try again after sleep. Not because there is something wrong with you but because you're not taking care of you. Youre probably over stimulated. Again personal experience. So don't feel like trash.

Step three: pray. Just ask. Insert the word "God and help and me and what you are trying to do."

Repeat.

There's more examples in the lists that will be sent. But this is the short version. And they will cover emergency situations which is just about the same but the why is explained in details.

And the above works for any one And everyone.

[lenaisanerd]

i know it’s expected that i be serene

When Clary texts Simon requesting Fullmetal Alchemist, he knows something's up. But Clary seems to be in denial, and so Simon dispenses the ultimate cure-all: Hanging out with her best friend. (ca. 3500 words)

tunes.

Read on AO3.

 This story was co-written with my darling @raisehades. Please enjoy the hard-earned fruits of many late-night Google Docs comment battles.

Clary: can i come ober

  Simon: Ofc

  Are u okay?

  Clary: yes i just want so talk and cuddle or something

  Simon: Okay. Want me to set up anything?

  Clary: fma? 2009?

  Simon: I gotchu

Simon was slightly worried.

First of all, Clary wasn’t usually this reserved in her texting. Her lack of exclamation points coupled with the request for her favourite show could only mean one thing: his friend was way more down than she was letting on.

But he would deal with that when she brought it up because, well, he was also happy; Clary and him used to do this a lot – go over to each other’s (parent’s) place to hang out and watch something they both more or less enjoyed and maybe even talk about their lives and their feelings and- stuff.

But ever since the whole… half-angel manic pixie dream girl mom reveal (the HAMPDGMR) and everything that went down in consequence of the HAMPDGMR, they simply hadn’t done this sort of thing anymore. Sure, they hung out with all their other friends, at parties at Magnus’ loft or karaoke night at the Hunter’s Moon. And while that was fun, it was different when it was just the two of them.

Even during their brief dating stint, there wasn’t much they did that they’d done as friends. Simon had enjoyed what they’d done together, of course, but looking back it had been obvious that this wasn’t ideal for them.

Ideal was this: Lugging the connector cable for the TV into the vicinity of his laptop, powering both up and then loading a site with English subtitles of Hiromu Arakawa’s masterpiece Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

Also ideal: Clary bringing weird snacks with unpronounceable names from the Polish bodega down the street from their old high school. That store had become their first stop after class when they were younger and would sneak candy into movie theatres or curl up on the couch in Clary’s living room and watch Audrey Hepburn flicks with Dot. Simon was almost certain he would be able to eat some and keep them down by now.

Well, actually, in a perfect world, Simon would have loved to cook something for Clary (the food at the Institute was a far cry from what any sane person would call comfort food. Or edible). But one of the results of moving out of his mom’s place just after he’d become a bloodsucking creature of the night was that he owned basically no dishes, or pots, or kitchen utensils.

Even compiling his stuff with Maia’s (who had lived next to a Chinese restaurant for her entire adult life) yielded five plates, one bowl, two chipped mugs, and somehow a ridiculously large amount of cutlery. So cooking anything more than a bowl of cereal was out of the question until they got around to buying some usable stuff. Simon could already see himself and Maia filling their birthday and Christmas/Hanukkah wishlists with basic household items for years into the future. Ah, the joys of adulthood.

Still, this was almost the Saturday morning of his dreams. In the past year, Simon had come to understand that while moments of normalcy were few and far between, when one came along they had to hold on tight for as long as they could. Which was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m telling you, Polish Bodega lady has to be a Downworlder. We just have to find out what flavor she is.” Clary started on her new favourite topic as soon as Simon opened the door. She draped her damp jacket over the back of a kitchen chair to dry, dropped a plastic bag on the table, and re-tied her wet ponytail.

Simon started rummaging through the contents of the bag. “Okay, one: I don’t like “flavors”, at all, two: how do you know she’s not just a normal human being who just happens to own a windowless shop where she basically lives 24/7? Oooh, you brought those weird milk drops!”

Clary had her back turned to him while she stretched as far as she could to reach the plates and mugs on one of the high shelves above the sink, not quite managing it. “She never sleeps. Sometimes I come by that store when I’m on patrol, and she must be there all night. Every night. And every day, too. Either she never sleeps, or she has at least two clones.”

“Maybe she has an identical twin sister.” Simon took pity on her and handed her the dishes. Clary took them and ducked out under his arm from between the sink and his body in one fluid movement. Then she set to digging through the fridge for some soda for herself, and a bag of A+ for him, hugging the plates and mugs to her body with her free arm.

“I think I caught her staring at my runes. She definitely at least has the Sight.”

“Oh, so your angel-ninja sense is tingling? Tell me, is there a type of demon that loves to disguise itself as an old lady and watch reruns of Polish soap operas?”

“There’s only so many demons that can be terrorizing Manhattan bankers at a time, you know.”

Simon let out an undignified snort of laughter, of the kind that, had he been drinking at the time, would certainly have made him exhale his drink through his nose. Clary stuck her head over the fridge door grinning triumphantly. Then she emerged fully from its depths with a bottle of coke wedged horizontally under her chin, the plates under her arm, right hand holding the mugs, and left hand holding the blood bag. Standing up was a precarious balancing act, and Simon rushed over to take the bottle from between her chin and collarbone. After he snatched up the bags of sweets from the table they continued their procession into Simon’s bedroom.

Maia and him had moved in together just after New Year’s, into a tiny two-bedroom apartment in Fort Greene. They had decided against sharing a bedroom, though, mostly because of their sleep schedules. As Maia had put it, one partner strangling the other because a certain vampire keeps making noise all through the night while a certain werewolf is trying to sleep is not very conducive to a healthy relationship. Of course, they often spend the night together anyway, although those weren’t the nights when they did much sleeping.

“Come lie down, thought you wanted to cuddle,” Simon said, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to him. Clary flopped down and threw her legs over his. Balancing the snack plate carefully on her lap she fluffed the pillows behind her and finally settled down.

It was several skipped episodes, an entire bag o’ blood, and a good two thirds of the coke later when Simon got to find out why  exactly  Clary was in such urgent need for Comfort TV Time.

“Did you know jat Ling’s name doejn’t need the ng sound at all? It’sh Lin in Japanese and”, Simon swallowed the milk drops, “the Chinese translation both, so they just changed it for us for some reason.”

“You’re going to regret eating those,” Clary said with such a comical expression of distaste on her face that Simon couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. I won’t mop it up, though.”

Simon was still grinning when Clary reached forward to pause the episode on a rather unfortunate still of Major Louis Armstrong in motion.

“Do you think Izzy would like this,” she said, suddenly serious.

“Who wouldn’t like Fullmetal Alch- ”

“You’re right. Of course she would. Continue.”

Simon took her vague gesture towards the screen as a command to unpause. About half a minute later she piped up again, this time not even bothering with the pause button. “Her favourite character would have to be Mei-Chang.”

“Really?,” Simon indulged, reminding himself that he had in fact watched this episode several times in his life(un-life?) already and could live (hah) with not catching every subtitle, “I would have thought Olivier, Lan Fan… or maybe Riza? One of the really cool badass ladies.”

“Izzy may be a really cool badass but trust me, she loves little girls with a passion for science. Did I tell you about that dinner party at Magnus’ place? She was off in a corner with Madzie all evening, talking about chemistry or something. It was adorable.”

“Yes, I – I don’t know how I managed to forget. You’ve told me about it... several times now.” Simon was quite proud of his wallowing pause here.

Clary said, “Well.” and when Simon looked over to her she was visibly re-invested in subtitles. He suppressed a fond headshake and decided to let her have this one.

The next time they got through a good fifteen minutes during which Clary only noticeably stopped herself from interrupting twice and Simon started quietly wondering if eating those drops was a bad idea after all.

“Could we invite her to something like this?”

“Izzy, you mean?”

“Ah, yes. I just mean, like, we’ve hung out at the Hunter’s Moon and the Institute and stuff but I don’t know, would she like just… watching anime? Snacking?”

Simon really did put up with a lot, huh. “I don’t know, what do you think?”, he said in his least exasperated voice and leaned forward once again to press pause. He looked over to Clary, who was searching through one of the bags of candy for the last red one with the utmost concentration.

“I think she’s probably never been able to do something like this but that… she’d probably like to try. And I guess it depends on the show if she’d enjoy it. Her attention span is better than ours’ for sure, though. Maybe I’ll ask her.”

“Instead of me?! I’m hurt, Fray.” Simon placed a hand over his unbeating heart and pulled what he hoped to be the most devastating pout since Shrek’s puss in boots. He probably didn’t succeed in that.

Clary repaid his efforts by hitting his shoulder. He whined out an ooow and curled up to smoosh his head into Clary’s side. Her shirt muffled his sigh, and she recoiled from his breath, pushing him away with a giggle.

“Simon, stop that! You know I’m ticklish!”

Instead of letting up, Simon wrapped his arms around Clary’s waist.

“Zis vasn’t my decision.” Simon was using his best Bela Lugosi accent. Clary’s eyes widened in mock horror and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “You brought zis on yourself. If Izzy is going to be your new best friend now, you must face...ze octopus!” His legs wrapped around Clary’s knees while she wriggled and squirmed and laughed.

“Hang on, what do you mean ‘my new best friend’? Simon Lewis, you’re not suddenly getting jealous, are you?” Clary asked when she had successfully freed herself from Simon’s grasp and they were both lying on their backs, looking at the ceiling.

“Pssh. No,” Simon lied. Clary had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Maybe you just have a crush on Izzy, ever thought about that?”

He had expected a pillow to the face for that tease, or another assault on his shoulder, or a bit of banter. What Simon had not expected was Clary suddenly looking all serious.

“Huh. You know, I’ve never considered that. Thanks, Simon,” she said, and Simon was quite proud of himself for being as good at identifying sarcasm as he was, but he really and truly couldn’t tell what Clary was thinking then. As his friend leant forward to unpause their series he decided she must just be a bit tired of antics for today. Understandable, really.

Yesterday’s summer storm had turned into persistent rain. It pitter-pattered against the fire escape and the windowsill, occasionally cutting through the sound coming from the TV’s speakers. During the peak of the heat wave, Maia and Simon had opened all the windows in the apartment to let in a breeze and had jammed whatever was handy at the time underneath to keep them from closing. There was a guitar foot rest wedged in the crack of Simon’s bedroom window.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“I definitely have a crush on Izzy.”

The pause button had never been pressed so quickly. It would have been a world record, if world record judges liked to hang out on rickety fire escapes peering through windows to see if random teenagers performed laws-of-physics-defying feats from the comfort of their beds.

Simon lay back down, face to face with Clary. She seemed way more casual than what Simon thought was appropriate for the situation.

“So…Izzy. Isabelle. Really tall, beautiful, kinda scary. Terrible cook. We’re still talking about our Izzy here?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Simon let that sink in for a minute.

“And, uh. How long have you known?”

Clary let out a hollow chuckle. “Consciously? About 30 seconds.”

Simon sat up. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Clary. I know you won’t like hearing it, but I’ve been your friend for over ten years, so I feel it is my duty to tell you this: You are such a dumbass.”

With a big sigh, Clary rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. Simon could barely make out her voice, but what she said sounded distinctly like a whine.

“What was that?”

Clary came up for air. ”I know.” Definitely whiny. With a very long vowel sound.

“I mean, you’re in so deep that I’m surprised you don’t need scuba gear yet.”

A groan.

Simon bumped her shoulder gently with his elbow. “Did I make you skip to the ‘wallowing in your own misery’ phase of having a crush?”

“No, it’s just...I can’t believe I never noticed.” Clary sat up, her legs crossed, facing Simon. “I only spent, oh, the last year with Izzy, every day. And– and looking back on some… things, it’s becoming really clear that I’ve had a crush on her for a while. And now I just feel like the biggest idiot in the world, and also what the fuck do I do now, Simon?” While she spoke Clary had let her head sink into her hands. Simon was of the opinion that they had just passed ‘wallowing’ and were well on their way to “breakdown”.

Simon leaned forward and, as gently as he could, pried Clary’s hands away from her face and held onto them for safekeeping.

“Hey, slow down, ‘cause this is bringing back really bad memories of pre-finals all-nighters.” This at least got a little smile out of Clary. “Now, can we back up just a bit to the ‘things’ you’re currently re-examining?”

Clary thought for a moment and then answered slowly, as though she was choosing her words with care. “Like, for example, why I love when she does my makeup. She’s really focused and just gets so close to my face and then she does that thing were she bites her lip and narrows her eyes, and sometimes I just want to lean forward and… kiss her?”

Immediately and seemingly instinctually, a grin tugged its way up the corner of Simon’s mouth. “Should I go get that scuba gear?” Clary rolled her eyes in response, but continued her recounting of Isabelle’s many virtues.

“And, uh, I always pick Izzy as a training partner, even though she does not go easy on me, because I kind of like when she kicks my ass.”

Simon only held in a dirty joke by viciously biting his own tongue. Clary was in distress. In distress.

His friend looked up at him from behind a strand of hair as if sensing his struggle but, judging by the nearly imperceptible untrackable movement of her eyebrows, refusing to acknowledge it. She headed on.

“Like, Izzy isn't really like anyone I've ever met before? And it's so - uh, exciting? Just to see her, like, do things her way. From the start she's made me feel like I belong, when, like, no one else really bothered to try?” Clary exhaled and shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe that's a bit much. I mean, what if we start dating and it immediately goes sideways? It’s just - we have too much history together. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense?”

Simon frowned. “No, I get it. She's really important to you.” He tilted his head to catch Clary’s gaze again. “And I know you’re really important to her. I don’t think one bad date could end your friendship. Also, you’ve known her for a year. If you want to call that ‘too much history’, I guess it might be, but when has that ever stopped you?”

Clary barked out a laugh. “Yeah, our relationship wasn’t exactly a success, though.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Izzy isn’t me. And you aren’t the same you you were a year ago. Things are different.”

Clary looked ready to argue again, but kept quiet. Her body language was singularly vulnerable but her expression was more thoughtful than anything, brow furrowed tightly. She picked absently at her fingers which were still stained with oil paints, green and purple and gold. The rain continued its assault on the fire escape.

Eventually, after a long moment of silence, Clary stretched out on the bed next to Simon and, tugging at his shoulder, gently nudged him to lie down too. Clary tilted her head so it was lying against his shoulder and they lay there listening to the city they had been hearing their entire lives. But it was different now, wasn’t it? Simon had super vampire hearing and Clary had her angel ears and this wasn’t the city they had known anymore, because they knew what hid under the surface. But then, well, New York had never been the city they thought they knew. Simon had meant what he’d said: Clary had changed, and he had changed, and their old world felt lifetimes away. A year ago he would have said this was a bad thing. Today, he... wasn’t so sure.

“Should I tell her, do you think?”

“Hmm? What?”

“Izzy.”

“Oh.” Simon tried to get his train of thought off the existentialist detour track. “Uhh,” he said, intelligently, “I don’t know. Give me a sec.”

“Yeah, of course. Can you think while we watch?”

Simon nodded and Clary unpaused the episode. She propped her head up on her hand to get a more comfortable angle at the screen, and Simon’s eyes caught on the rune on her neck, right against the edge of her jawline. That was the first one, the healing rune that had seemed so out of place the night he’d found her by the church. By the Institute. Now, he couldn’t really imagine Clary without the runes, each a different part of her new life. There were the quick, simple ones Jace had drawn in the beginning, joined by the strong, decisive strokes of Isabelle and the slender script that indicated Alec, and of course Clary’s own hand, elegant and curving. Some for protection and some for strength, for courage and speed, fresh ones and older, darker marks. There was a story for every single one. A bit of experience. A battle won or lost.

He didn’t often dwell on this, but it sometimes occurred to Simon just how strong his best friend was. She had been through so, so much and come out on the other side a victor, maybe through luck, but also through sheer stubbornness. It was one of the things he loved (and sometimes loathed) about Clary. Simon was extraordinarily grateful that, even though both of them had lost a life, they had gained a new one, and one that had the other in it.

“Clary.”

She turned her head so she could look at him. One side of her face reflected the  flickering lights of the TV. “Yes?”

“I think you should do what you think is best. Trust your gut. You’re gonna be fine.”

Clary looked disappointed. “That wasn’t much of an answer, oh great oracle,” she said.

“Well, that’s the only one you’re gonna get. This oracle is closed for the day,” Simon replied. He crossed his arms over his chest to emphasize his statement. Then, very quickly and stumbling over his words a little, he added: “I just really respect you and I think you’re really smart and have good judgement, and you can sort this out for yourself. Also if anything goes wrong this means you can’t blame me, so–” The rest of the sentence was cut off by Clary rushing to hug him. Her shoulder banged into his chin rather painfully. He would, of course, not have it any other way.

“Thank you, Simon. I love you.”

Simon smiled into Clary’s shoulder. “Love you too, Fray.”

[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

Spideytorch + Channukah Bc as we all know peter Parker is Jewish

real. iconic. true.

Peter knocked lightly on the window, waving when Ben glanced up, one massive candle held carefully between two rocky fingers. He mouthed “Sorry I’m late,” his mask rolled up over his nose, and Ben rolled his eyes and called something over his shoulder as he continued to set up the Thing sized hanukkiah.

(Peter’d have been willing to bet it had “Made By Reed Richards” stamped on the bottom. There was a smaller one next to it which had the polished, well-loved feel of a family heirloom; Ben probably let someone else put its candles in place every night, too worried about breaking it to do it himself.)

Johnny came jogging into the room a moment later, a great big grin spreading across his face as he threw open the sash to let Peter slip inside. “Hey, Webhead; when you never texted back, I figured you were celebrating with your aunt.”

“I’ve got eight nights,” Peter pointed out, laughing, as he stripped his mask completely. “I figured I could spare one for the FF. Where’s the rest of the gang?”

“Suzie, Stretch, and the kids are off at a family dinner or summin’,” Ben rumbled. “They’re just running a little behind.”

“They are coming then?” Peter accepted the sweater Johnny was shoving at him with a gleeful expression on his face, not paying too much attention to it as he pulled it over his head. “That’s good! Franklin and Val are Jewish on their third parental figure’s side,” he joked. “They should understand their culture and trad–” he broke off, staring at his reflection in the window.

Johnny cackled, phone in hand to snap a number of pictures in rapid succession.

“This is… this is horrendous,” Peter said, blankly. There were actual flashing lights on his sweater. “Why am I wearing this?”

Ben snorted, reaching out to give Peter a clap on the shoulder that had him staggering to the side. “‘S a gift. Can’t turn down a gift, Spidey.”

“These are also gifts,” Johnny insisted, holding out a pair of blue sweatpants that read GET LIT across the ass.

“What do you think I am, a mannequin in the holiday section of Target?”

“Told you he wouldn’t like them,” Sue said, breezing into the room with a veritable armada of force field-levitated grocery bags drifting in her wake. Reed and the kids followed those into the kitchen to unpack them as Sue headed for Ben, stretching up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “We aren’t late?”

“We’d’ve waited.” Ben peered hopefully towards the kitchen. “Do I smell sufganiyot?”

“Johnny didn’t have time to cook today, so we stopped and picked some things up on our way home.” Her grin tilted sideways, that mischievous Storm spark in her eyes as she added, “Ben doesn’t even let sour cream into the house during Hanukkah, Peter; I hope you’re okay with apple sauce on your latkes.”

Peter wordlessly extended a hand to Ben for a high five.

The actual ceremony went quick- with Johnny in the room no one even had to fight with a lighter- but between the food and the gambling and the wine that magically appeared in Sue’s hands the moment the kids had been sent to bed, it wasn’t until one in the morning that Peter started to consider dragging himself away.

“Probably shouldn’t let you drink and websling,” Johnny commented idly, his legs dangling out into nothingness as he watched Peter stroll back and forth along the ledge, his face turned to the light polluted sky and its stubborn handful of stars.

They escaped to the roof an hour ago, leaving a sleeping Reed (literally) curled around a damp eyed Sue, who was getting weepy listening to Ben drunkenly ramble about his Aunt Petunia and her late husband and the holidays they’d used to spend together.

“Who, me?” Peter asked, holding his hands out to his sides and touching his nose with one index finger and then the other, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Yes, you,” Johnny said fondly. “You stuck your tongue out while you were doing that.”

Peter hummed noncommittally, tucking his hands into the pockets of the sweats he was wearing and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. He’d continued to refuse the Hanukkah sweatpants, but he’d eventually accepted a different pair, just to hide the webs. They were Johnny’s, worn and too long and pooling around Peter’s bare ankles.

He turned on his heel to make another pass, and wobbled dangerously–his spider-sense gave a half-hearted blare and Johnny made an aborted move as if to catch him, before Peter righted himself.

“Maybe a cab would be a better idea,” he admitted, carefully climbing down from the ledge, and Johnny huffed.

“You could just stay here.” He rolled his eyes as Peter looked over at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and pointed out, “You’re a grown adult, Pete; you don’t have a curfew, it’s not a school night, and the couch is–”

“Taken,” Peter blurted. “Reed and Sue and Ben…”

Johnny licked his lips. He wasn’t looking at Peter, staring out across the city instead, and his hair looked like spun silver in the light that spilled dimly across the rooftop from the door they’d left propped open behind them. “Well,” he said carefully.

“I could sleep on the floor,” Peter offered.

“Don’t be dumb. Didn’t I just say we were both adults?”

Peter swallowed heavily; his mouth suddenly felt far too dry for all of the wine he’d had that night. “I think you only said I was an adult,” he pointed out, and Johnny rolled his eyes again, spinning around to climb down from the ledge himself.

“Come to bed, Pete,” he said, catching his wrist with one hand as he passed, and Peter wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t have held his ground if he’d wanted to.

He didn’t, though.

Johnny led the way into the building, his fingers warm warm warm, and Peter hovered awkwardly in the hallway while Johnny picked his way around Ben to drop a kiss to a half-awake Sue’s forehead–it was intimate and sweet, a real sibling moment, and Peter almost slipped off to Johnny’s room on his own. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where it was.

But Johnny looked over at him, flipping the already-dimmed lights off completely, and Peter clung to the reckless courage that was already pretty much burned out of his system by his heightened metabolism.

Johnny didn’t catch his wrist again, just brushed past him in a way that- maybe only in Peter’s imagination- lingered for one long moment. In his room, they undressed uncharacteristically quietly, like they were reluctant to break the wine-induced spell, and then they were lying there unnecessarily close for in that huge, decadent bed, Peter’s arm draped around Johnny’s waist and his nose tucked against the nape of his neck.

Johnny shifted sleepily, mumbling, “Happy Hanukkah, Pete,” just before he drifted off.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Be Better

Hello all, so my secret santa assignment was for @bowsmoakandarrow , who wanted a fluffy fic with a dog. I hope I did her justice.

Just some background on some things. This takes place 2 years into the future, and so it has my predictions on some of the things that might happen during Crisis on Infinite Earths. It also alludes to one of my favorite GA story lines happening the year before (so next season) this fic takes place. Kudos to those who know which one. 

A gift by @bandanab310

>—> <—<

December 2020

Another year. another world ending crisis averted. Another Hanukkah missed. 

The yearly team ups with his other super friends (even though he will not admit that he calls them that to their faces) had become too regular and every once in awhile would interrupt more wanted festivities. Like this year. 

Oliver shouldn’t complain too much. At least this year’s fight didn’t cost him one of his good friends like the previous one did. 

He shakes the bad memories off. Barry’s been back for 7 months now. Iris is at least starting to forgive him for the deal that he made. And both along with the rest of team flash are coming in a few weeks for a Christmas dinner. Oh no he still need to figure out what he is going to make for that. So much food is going to be needed. Besides Barry, Kara (who has become even more of a good friend now that they are on the same earth) are going to eat him bankrupt, again. However suddenly a bright idea comes to him. He’ll make them his chili. Oliver smirks to himself as he walks into the grocery store remembering the last time that they ate his famous Queen chili. How Barry gave up after four bites and Kara lasted 7. 

“That’ll fill them up quick.” Oliver says out loud to himself, “Right, but not what I am shopping for tonight. Nope Hanukkah.” 

Oliver makes quick work gathering the ingredient for Latkes, sufganiyot, and other delicious Jewish treats. Every so often looking at the recipes that Donna has provided him with over the years. Oliver is determined to give his family a great holiday season. And even though it will be technically late, this Hanukkah dinner will be the perfect kick off. It’s been too long. Two years ago they were getting to know each other again, the newer versions of themselves, both with changed viewpoints of the world they lived in, due to his incarceration, that still needed to be realigned. Last year was spent in mourning. Of a friend. Dwelling in their contributions of what had happened. 

But that was behind them. Be better, be the light for those around you. It had become somewhat of a mantra to him since last year. Even though he was back, Oliver was still trying his best to keep his promise to Barry and be the hero that could inspire his city. He was not as serious as he once was. Tried to joke around and be playful in his attitude. And after a year of working on it, it was sticking. Not as much as Barry level of lightheartedness, he would never allow himself to be that sappy. His life and his city wouldn’t allow it. But he felt like he finally found a good balance of the carefree boy that left on the gambit and the experienced and ruthless vigilante that came home five years later. He felt like a hero and a good amount of his city believed it too. As was evident by his interaction with the older cashier women at the supermarket check out. 

“Oh why hello Mr Green Arrow”

“Lisa, I told you it’s Oliver.” 

“Three years ago it was Mr Mayor, last year Green Arrow. What’s next year The Flash.”

“Been there, done that.” Oliver jokes. 

“Ha, ha, Oliver. That’ll be $65.87”

“Thank You, till next time Lisa.” 

“Bye bye, Green Man, happy holidays”

Oliver walks around the building to the parking lot on the side, when suddenly a crash stops his movement, and trigger his senses to survey his surroundings. Another clash helps him locate the sounds coming from the small alley way to his right. Quietly lowering his bags, Oliver moves silently into the space. Another loud sound, this time of glass breaking, pulls him closer to the trash can at the far end of alley. On quickened, but still silent steps, Oliver rounds the other side of the dumpster to find…a dog. 

It was a yellow lab. Maybe a year or two old. Matted fur. And tired eyes. A stray. Once it see Oliver it starts to back away from the garbage bag it had been previously rifling through. Whimpering in cautionary fright. But it wasn’t getting too far too fast with it’s seemingly injured front paw that it was holding up while trying to hop backwards out of the alleyway on its three other legs. 

Oliver carefully moves closer to the animal  trying not to frighten it any more than it was. From his own personal experience oliver knows how it felt to be vulnerable and afraid of being helped. Believing the rest of the world existed to only to bring you harm and hurt. 

Oliver slowly extends his hand towards the dog staying crouched to make himself less intimidating. “Hey Buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.” His low calming voice starting to do the trick as the dog stops moving backwards but still whimpers, like it’s cautious but slightly intrigued, hoping that expectations wins over experiences. Oliver gets that. 

“Need help with the paw there?”

The dog probably sensing that the human in front of it is no immediate danger hobbles towards Oliver’s outreached hand. 

“Good dog” Oliver praises as he ruffles the dog’s fur with one hand reaching for the injured paw. 

After making a fairly quick assessment of the damage Oliver says to dog (or himself maybe) “Well, it’s not broken just a little sprain. Just needs…a…little…”

Looking around the alley Oliver sees a wooden pallet leaning on the side of the the trash bin. 

“Stay right here,” he says to the yellow lab. And as if it understands already what Oliver is planning, it thump it’s butt to the ground and waits, it’s injured paw still raised in front of it. 

Oliver revels in the cute image that this dog paints for a few moments before refocusing on the task at hand. He brakes off two thin pieces of wood and comes back toward the dog, who he noticed now was a girl, taking his the scarf he’d been wearing off. 

“Come here girl. Let’s get that paw fixed up”

Oliver makes quick work on fashioning a splint, having done this kinda things enough times on himself, his friends, enemies even, but never for a dog. It’s a nice change of pace. 

Once he’s done he gently places the paw back on the ground and both he and the dog look at each other.

“Well there you go, good as new” 

The dog looks down at it’s own now wrapped and splinted paw. once it seems to deem Oliver’s work sufficient, she gives him a lick of appreciation, it’s tail thumping on the ground behind it.

“Oh is that your way of saying thank you” Oliver chuckles “well your very welcome”

With one more quick lick of the face the dog gets up on all four of his legs, turn and starts to walk away 

“Well I guess that is that”

Oliver starts to walk out the opposite way when a thought comes to mind, something that he would have never had considered a year ago. 

“Hey, girl!” 

———-

As soon as the apartment door closes behind Oliver and his new companion, a loud crash followed by a very familiar huff of annoyance fills the open space. 

As Oliver moves further into the living, the yellow lab close on his heels, he catches sight of his beautiful glowing wife grumpily looking through one of the stacks of boxes that are scattered around. Unlike the stacks of boxes from years past these do not represent a dissolving of their family but instead the growth of it, as is evident by Felicity’s 6-month rounded belly that seemingly just knocked over a standing light which is now on the floor not shattered so therefore already forgotten by her.

Felicity still obvious to her husband and the 30-pounds furry creature, mumbles to herself “Where the heck did they go?”

“Hon” Oliver tries to get Felicity’s attention. It’s to no avail as Felicity moves from one box to the next before yelling

“William have you seen the menorah candles”

“No, Felicity sorry I haven’t” their son yells back from the shower as Oliver registers the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

Huh kid’s been working on his heightened senses or are they just in-tuned to Felicity’s loud voice. 

“Hon” Oliver tries again a bit louder.

“Where’s a glowing green arrow of enlightenment when you need one”

“Felicity!” Oliver slightly yells at the same time as a bark fills the room.

Felicity startles at that. Quickly assessing that Oliver is there as well a four legged scruffy animal with what seems to be the scarf that Thea had given Oliver as a christmas gift last year around one of its front paws. 

“Who?” She questions as she points to the dog.

“Oh. Right. Um.” Oliver starts to babble “This is a friend that I found outside the supermarket. It needed help. So I helped. And then. Well, I kinda thought that maybe. If it’s ok with you. And William of course. Maybe we could keep. I mean I know with the baby. But I thought….” 

Before Oliver can continue with his best impression of Felicity, she’s kisses him. Wrapping her arms around him as much her bump allows her. After a few moments she breaks the kiss, much to the chagrin of her husband. 

“It’s completely ok. I think it’s a great idea. You know William has been begging for a dog for years. And hey we’re moving to a house anyway we’ll have plenty of room. And the studies say that having a companion pet allows a baby to further their spatial development. Not to mention the natural boost of immunity. 

“Thank you.” Oliver says before giving Felicity a quick peck on the lips “and you won’t find the menorah candles in any of these boxes” 

Felicity looks up with a quizzical look, “why not?”

“Because that was one of the things that I had to get, remember?”

“Frack” his wife mumbles as she rests her head on his chest in defeat as it rumbles with his low laugh. 

Their silent moment is short lived as a bark once again notifies of the new member of their family. 

“Right. Hey doggy.” Felicity address the dog as she, with the help of Oliver, lowers to sit across for the dog who immediately starts to lick her outstretched palm while the other begins to scratch behind it’s ear. 

“So what should your name be…hmmm….how about Apollo?”

“Hon, she’s a girl.” 

Felicity quickly raises and lowers the dog’s back leg. “Oh yes you certainly are. Excuse me. Well, Artemis is kinda a tainted name for us soooo…how…a…bout…Archer.” 

“Don’t you think it’s too much on the nose, Felicity?”

“What good is not having a secret identity when you can’t have a bit of fun.”

She’s got a point there, Oliver thinks. Have some fun. “Sure why not.”

“Yay Archer, welcome to the family girl. You’re going to fit right in. Us Queens are all survivors just like you but don’t worry we’re better for it.”

That they were. While he will never forget all of the things that have happened to him and his loved ones, Oliver’s doesn’t let it solely define him anymore. He doesn’t have to feed off his darkness as much nowadays. He has a light now inside to motivate him. It’s been slow going but maybe one day soon it will be the only thing that he needs. Be better. Be a Hero.

[harryseyebrows]

More parenting questions because we need specifics! Attachment parenting or cry it out? Baby wearing? Homemade baby food? Are any picky eaters? Do they introduce them to any religion? (I imagine Harry showing them all if anyone starts to ask questions) What stance will Jeff and Harry take on underage drinking or age of first cell phones? Who gives the birds and bees talk? Are they the cool house to hang out at for the teenagers? (Harry always has baked goods, Jeff has a killer vinyl collection)

i love you for this.

okay. so in terms of parenting style, it evolves from baby to baby. they had such a hard time getting pregnant with the twins that it makes them super protective once theyre born. harry is a bit more overbearing and neurotic, and not to say that jeff isnt just as scared and nervous, he’s just a bit more rational. they read the same books and know almost all of the same information, but when it comes down to it, harry often foregoes what most people and experts will tell you in favor of rushing down the hall if either twin so much as hiccups. jeff tries to reason with him and urge him to let them self soothe sometimes but its with very limited success. and jeff is kinda constantly battling with himself because he knows that harry is still spooked after the miscarriages (he is too) and when he forces harry to stay in the room and not run to them as soon as they cry, he sees how uncomfortable it makes harry, so he usually relents. however, harry relaxes over time. by the time the twins are around 6 months, he has other things to worry about, namely being pregnant again so soon, so he’s tired and cranky and swollen so letting the twins cry it out is sometimes the better option. he knows that he has a secure attachment with both twins and that they’re not lacking for anything, and that they’re both healthy and happy. with river, harry is significantly more relaxed, and by the time willow comes along, he and jeff are both old pros. 

BABY WEARING. if you think for one second that harry would not be ecstatic over the possibility of having his baby/babies strapped to him so he can walk around and show them off, even if its only at home and his only audience is the house plants, youre a CRAZY PERSON. harry loves a baby sling. jeff is less enthusiastic than harry but he’s still pretty psyched about it. even though when they take the twins out together, one baby per chest, they do look ridiculous. harry never gets tired of it, even after 4 kids. especially when theyre newborns. catch him doing laundry and dishes with his paisley printed baby scarf-sling on. DELIGHTFUL. 

homemade baby food. they try it just for shits when the twins are able to start solids but its a very short-lived project. too much mess. too expensive. store bought it just fine for them lol 

eli will eat whatever you put in front of him, but jude, harrys sweet, otherwise amicable little boy, is the one who goes through a phase where he proclaims ‘i dont like it’ to anything and everything. oddly enough, though, the things he will still eat are mostly healthy, like cubed fruit and baby carrots. however, he’s still a big fan of mac and cheese, but staunchly refuses to eat dino-shaped nuggets, to which eli usually looks at harry and jeff as if he’s saying ‘more for me, right?’ river is easy, too. a little human garbage disposal. harry has had to stop him from trying to eat a banana peel more than he’d like to admit. willow isnt quite as easy as river but she’s pretty close. all of the azoff children have very broad palates, thanks to harry and his adventurous cooking. jeff and harry also like to very very hands-on with the kids eating experiences -- they dedicate one night a week to having the kids help them with dinner. harry also likes to bake with them quite a bit. how many 4 years old do you know that have baked a lemon tart?

as far as religion goes, the kids are raised with ~blended religions ie jewish and christian (i did some research on it, and much like any other polarizing topic, there are a lot of people who claim that it has to be a hard left of right, one or the other, but if you dig a bit past the more sensationalized articles, you can find some info on people who were raised with two faiths and turned out just fine -- its finding a balance and respecting the holidays and traditions of both -- as well as explaining things just as you would if you were raising them with one faith. if given the room to explore both and come to their own decisions, it can actually be very valuable and healthy **also worth noting that i myself am not a religious person but i know its important to a lot of people). jeff and harry do their best to keep things clear and distinct but also make sure that the kids dont feel alienated or distant from either side. they dont force anything on them -- the kids are free to say no to certain things, and they both do their best to answer questions and such, so its not super strict, but more of a ‘its there if you want it’ type of situation. the kids also think its very special that they get to celebrate Hanukkah and christmas 

as neurotic as harry was when they were little, once the kids are older, he’s the more lax one when it comes to certain things ie drinking, pot, tattoos, etc. he’s pro ‘if youre gonna drink id rather you do it in the house than at a party’ so when the boys are 18/19, they’re allowed to have a beer or a glass of wine if they want it, as long as harry takes their keys. he knows that if you make something super off limits, its gonna make it that much more tempting when he’s not around to say no. thats why when river is 6 and asks what beer tastes like, harry lets him have a super tiny sip and is amused when river spits it out immediately, but less amused when he spits it out back into the bottle. jeff is a bit more strict and would prefer that they dont do it at all, but he respects harrys policies and kinda grins and bears it. 

jeff does the birds and the bees because harry is banned from talking about anything sex-related around the kids per their own request, simply because he’s super embarrassing and they hate it lmao sometimes he sits down and watches those shitty daytime talk shows, the one with the doctors as a panel, and he learns some random ass info about penile health and the next thing you know he’s bringing it up at breakfast only to be met with a chorus of ‘shut upppp dad, oh my GOD’ jeff is way more chill and easy to talk to, and the kids dont mind when he tells them because they can see that he’s just as uncomfortable as they are, eager to have it done and over with, as opposed to the theatrics they know theyd get with harry (probably some pseudo guidance counselor nonsense where he’d act placid and calm and stare at them with his laser beam focus, radiating ‘you can tell me anything’ vibes that would make them want to wither away. there’d be hand gestures and a condom demonstration with a banana, a lecture on embracing your sexuality but being careful and safe. NO THANKS, says all 4 kids)

and you are absolutely correct, other kids and teenagers seem to love going to the hazoff household, even though the actual hazoff kids dont know why. one of their dads is a complete goof (and totally embraces it) and the other is significantly more chill but also prone to being nerdy and embarrassing (harry tries to impress under the guise of being casual, whereas jeff is always ready to bust out naked baby pictures while simultaneously be the ~cool one). there are always cookies or some type of loaf cake on the counter and ready to be eaten, and jeff is always working on some new sound or projection system for movies. its just a really nice, open environment where anyone who steps into their house is accepted with open arms. unless they’re rude or mean. then harry is mildly passive aggressive but otherwise still civil. only once that person leaves does he mutter something about ‘well they weren’t very nice’ 

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 10 - Part 1

Christmas Cheer Part 1

A/N – Based on a lot of head-canons from @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron so extra special thanks to them for that. I was gonna make you wait longer but Happy Holidays my friends. Dedicated to @millebellete for the epic new icon.

Warnings – NSFW/RATED M UNDER THE “KEEP READING” CUT.

Rating – T

You slumped in a beanbag despondently. You’d only been awake for around twenty minutes and the day already sucked. Before you could contemplate your depressing scenario further, the hab-suite door opened to Swerve who peered around cautiously to check if you were even awake yet; he was always careful not to wake you up.

“Hey (Y/N),” he greeted jovially.

“Hey,” You mumbled.

Swerve frowned, “What’s wrong?”

You got up, shaking your head and throwing out a quick, imitation smile that paled in comparison to the real thing, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Come on, slumped shoulders, low mood, something’s up. Is it that shark week thing you warned me about?” He sounded vaguely panicked, though he wasn’t actually sure what you meant by shark week.

“No, nothing like that, I just… Something I found out.”

“Let’s hear it, or do I have to talk your ears off first because I will, you know I will.”

“Alright, alright, it’s um… My datapad shows the date back on Earth… it’s getting close to Christmas. Christmas is kind of a big deal back on Earth, y’know? I’ve never not… I’m gonna miss it is all.”

“(Y/N),” Swerve murmured, lost for words at the hurt on your face; he couldn’t imagine the pain you were feeling. You couldn’t go home and nobody else on the ship knew Earth holidays like he did, not to mention it was a time spent with family and friends who you’d also lost.

“Forget it,” You said glumly. “I’ll see you later, I think I need a walk… on my own.”

Swerve didn’t stop you from leaving. He couldn’t, not when a bright idea was firing through his processor. He couldn’t fix the Earth problem, but he could distract you from it; the whole ship could distract you.

Little over an hour later, even in your quiet nook of the ship, the Rodimus gong rang loudly through the halls; it didn’t need the PA for that.

“Attention everybody,” Rodimus chimed over the speaker. “In honour of our resident human, I would like to announce the Lost Light’s first HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA.”

You stared, slack jawed at the speaker, did he mean what you thought he meant?

Muffled echoes came over the speaker, “Why aren’t they cheering? They’re supposed to be cheering.” Rodimus cleared his vocaliser and continued, “Since you obviously don’t know what it means, we’re celebrating the Earth holiday of Christmas… what do you mean Hanukkah? Does she celebrate that too? What do you mean you don’t know? Fine, whatever. Christmas and Hanukkah. Ultra Magnus has prepared… ugh, pamphlets on the subject because he managed to ruin holidays too but please, take the time to learn all you can about what I’m told is ‘the most wonderful time of the year.’”

Rodimus heaved a loud sigh at the lack of enthusiasm, “Alright, fine, it’s a big chance to party and get overcharged…. Sure, now they cheer. Rodimus out.”

The speakers fell silent once more and you sat lost for words in the corridor you’d been hiding in. Your new communicator rang with the Friends theme tune which was reserved for Swerve.

You answered it dazed, “Swerve?”

“(Y/N), did you hear the announcement? What do you think? I asked Rodimus this morning and he was totally on board with it. We can decorate the bar, and set up a movie night, and teach everyone the songs, and-”

“It’s wonderful Swerve, you’re the best, thank you,” You were glad he couldn’t see you crying, even if they were happy tears.

“No problem (Y/N), really.”

“What’d Maggie and Megs say?”

“Ultra Magnus got weird and mumbled something about Verity, whatever that is, then he took off and said he had to decorate and told me not to get into trouble. Megatron couldn’t get a word in over Rodimus.”

You sniffed back more tears.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand, “meet you at the bar?”

“Can’t wait.”

“So, what’re we thinking?” Swerve asked, standing next to you in the bar; for once, with the lack of bots, you could stand on the floor with him.

You framed the corner of the room with your hands, holding them out, “What about a huge tree over there? Wait, do we even have a tree… or any decorations for that matter?”

Swerve sputtered, faking offense, “Pfft, do we have decorations. What kind of cave dwelling cretin do you take me for? I mean, you may as well ask if the sky has a moon or-”

“So, we do have decorations?”

“Well, maybe not here but we’ll get some soon, right after you decide what we need.”

“Alright soldier, are you willing to follow orders and commandeer any supplies we need?!”

Swerve saluted, “SIR, YES SIR!”

“AND ARE YOU WILLING TO WAGE WAR ON ANYONE WHO STANDS IN YOUR WAY!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“EVEN IF IT MEANS INFILTRATING THE ENEMY CAMP!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“THEN BEGIN SOLDIER, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK WE NEED.”

“START WITH A WREATH.”

“GOOD, AND?”

“LIGHTS THAT TWINKLE?”

“AND?”

“A SKELETON?”

“YES- Wait, a skeleton? Why a skeleton?”

Swerve held his hands up, “Sorry, I was thinking of Halloween, got excited.”

You grinned, “Fair enough, I’m honestly impressed you got that far, I was hoping you’d screw up sooner.”

Swerve bumped into you playfully, you returned the gesture, laughing as you did so.

“Now,” You commanded, “logistics. I think we’re going to need some help on this one. You got anyone in mind?”

“Tailgate would be good, maybe Chromedome and Rewind, Nautica.”

“Who’s Nautica?”

“Oh right, you two haven’t met yet but she’s awesome and-”

“She? There’s another she on the ship and you didn’t tell me? Go, go get her, I must meet this other she, go.”

You pushed against him, making no difference at all, “Okay, I’m going. I suppose I should bring Velocity back here too if you’re going to meet all the she’s on the ship.”

“Yes,” You squealed, clapping your hands together. “Oh, and bring Rung too.”

“Ring? Why Rang?”

“I swear, you all do the name thing on purpose. Rung has to come because he’ll be happy to be invited, be considerate and invite him before I’m forced to kick your can.”

“Riiight, because you did so good moving me just then.”

“I swear, I could actually destroy you. I’m barely keeping my dangerous animal ferocity contained right now. Us flesh sticks are monstrous, have you never seen Freddy Kreuger or Jason?”

“Frag, if you’re as dangerous as those two, I should run. I’ll leave you to the logistics while I gather the team.”

You saluted once more, and Swerve was out the door, practically bubbling over with excitement.

Boosting yourself up, you sat on one of the barstools, writing a list of what you needed on your datapad.

“Ten!” A mechanical voice gargled.

You squealed, almost falling off your seat, then turned to face the very mech who’d scared you. You’d met Ten before briefly. As far as you knew from the others on the ship, he wasn’t very intelligent, and he served as hired muscle to Swerve.

“Ah, hey Ten. How’re you doing?”

“Ten.”

“Hodor.”

“Ten?”

“Groot?”

“Ten?”

“You’re a mech of many words… Want to keep me company while I plan?”

“TEN!” He threw himself on the stool next to yours enthusiastically.

“Great, first I was thinking a wreath at the door with a red bow. Green and red are the colours of Christmas.” You showed him some pictures on your datapad.

Ten tilted his head, examined the picture, and opened a storage space in his chest panel. He pulled out some pieces of flat silver metal, folding them expertly. It soon became clear that he was making a wreath of his own, albeit devoid of colour.

“Ten, that’s incredible!” You praised as he made a bow with the metal.

“Ten!” He smiled.

“You know, whichever idiot said the thingy about the Ambus test needs their head checked; you’re way smarter than any dumb old test.”

When Swerve came back with the party, minus Nautica who was busy, Ten had piled decoration upon decoration on top of the surrounding tables, each waiting to be placed around the room.

“Whoa…” Swerve marvelled, “What happened here?”

“Ten’s a crafting genius.”

Nautica pushed past everyone to meet you, “Tell me something I don’t know. Hi, I’m Nautica, it used to be Nautical but that didn’t sound right and I babble when I’m excited. You’re a human!”

“And you’re female!”

The two of you squealed excitedly before regaining composure and shaking hands, though Nautica started inspecting your hand, turning it over in hers and making observations.

“What are the lines on your arms?”

“Veins and arteries, they carry blood to and from my heart.”

“Incredible.”

“Right?”

“What else does your body do?”

“Loads of stuff, it can-”

“(Y/N)!” Rewind called impatiently. “Christmas stuff.”

“Right, okay.” The bots gathered around you waiting for what you had to say. You held up your datapad again, showing various images of what each item should look like. “As you can see, Ten has made just about everything we need but silver is so boring on its own. What I need all of you for is a painting spree. Ten, Chromedome, Nautica, you’re the tallest, so you’re on tree painting duty and decoration hanging when that’s done. Rewind, the tinsel really needs to sparkle. Rung, Tailgate, you’re painting the baubles and banners. Swerve, you’re on snowflakes, and I’ll get anything else. Everyone okay with that?”

Everyone agreed enthusiastically and began their duties. Rung proved invaluable, painting over the base coats of the decorations with incredible detail due to his time spent on model ships. With three people working on the tree, it was done in no time, leaving them free to join the hubbub of the decorations table. Swerve was sprinkling liberal amounts of glitter in your hair, claiming you were the angel for the top of the tree. While you laughed hysterically, Rewind filmed, saying he was making a Christmas documentary and asking you every question he could think of on the subject. You started from the beginning, telling any and all traditions that came to your head along the way.

“What’s that? Is it a mini tree?” Rewind zoomed in on the decoration you were painting.

“This is mistletoe, you hang it from the ceiling then when two people step under it, no matter who they are, they have to kiss.”

Chromedome looked lovingly at Rewind; it was a look of so pure and strong that you felt lucky simply to witness it.

Tailgate grabbed the unfinished mistletoe from you, holding it above his head jokingly when you came to get it. “So, like this?”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be is it?” You giggled. “Very funny.” You kissed his faceplate and grabbed the mistletoe back from him with a rocket boot thrust. “Keep playing like that and I won’t give you one for your hab-suite which would be a real shame; think of Cyclonus, all handsome under the mistletoe.”

Tailgate practically glowed at the comment; he was clearly wondering whether Cyclonus would humour him in such an odd tradition. The conversation flowed on as the bar was decorated beautifully. While everything had been made of metal, it served to give the decorations a unique Lost Light look. Swerve kept a box of leftover decorations to use in the hab-suite where the two of you headed after everyone parted ways, babbling excitedly about anything that came to mind.

“I was thinking,” Swerve said, hanging around your kitchen nook while you prepared a Christmas film on the other side of the room, “we should create a Christmas tradition for the Lost Light.”

“Got anything in mind?” You asked, absentmindedly.

“How about naming some new energon cocktails? We could make them seasonal specials, like that eggnog stuff I’ve heard about.”

“So, stuff like, Red Nosed Retro Energon.”

“Yeah, and Santa’s Sleigh-er.”

“Elf-ergon.”

“Jingle Juice.”

“You know, you should really write these down before we forget them.”

“Don’t worry, I remember everything you say.”

You turned around to face him, raising a curious eyebrow, “Pardon?”

Swerve tapped his helm, “G-great memory.”

“Oh, then can you get your great memory over to the berth, so we can start the film?”

For film nights, Swerve always moved the berth into the middle of the room where he’d lay on one side and you’d get the other since he didn’t fill it even when laid out. You’d already prepared a small mountain of pillows to make the hard metal comfy as usual and were awaiting him to start the selected film.

“Here,” Swerve held out a steaming mug of hot chocolate he’d prepared in your tiny kitchen; manoeuvring the small items was much more of a struggle than he’d guessed, and he’d made more of a mess than he cared to admit but the result was there and for that he was proud.

You blinked back surprise, “Thank you.”

“No prob Bob. What’re we watching?”

“Love Actually. It’s the absolute best Christmas film ever, if you can hack the sad parts.”

Swerve’s vocaliser crackled and his cooling fans span quietly, a film called Love Actually was sure to be a romance; it would be the first romance the two of you had watched alone. Were you trying to tell him something or was he imagining things again?

As Swerve laid comfortably on the berth, you started the film and took a sip of the hot chocolate.

“How is it?” he asked hopefully.

You struggled to swallow the thick gloop that was congealing in your mouth. “Like cement,” You garbled.

At the despair on Swerve’s face, you burst into laughter, ungracefully spraying remnants of hot chocolate which brought Swerve into your gales of laughter. You cleaned yourself up and settled into the film. Swerve sat, enchanted with the film until you got up and laid on top of him.

“Wh-Wh-” he tried to speak but couldn’t.

“I love this part,” You said enamoured, getting comfortable on his warm frame. Your head rested against his spark casing and your legs were curled up, limiting you to his chest panel.

While Swerve’s mind reeled, you thought nothing of the small action; it was something you did to friends and family on Earth constantly. Your leg stretched out, accidentally gliding over his interface panel. Swerve threw himself up at the sensitive touch, knocking you to the floor underneath the berth.

“Ow! Swerve, what the hell?”

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” He’d gotten over the initial shock and was now concerned for your safety; it was at least a four-foot fall.

“Yeah, I landed on the pillows you threw. What happened?”

“I uh- I got scared.” The sentence wasn’t entirely a lie, feeling the pressure of your foot against his interface panel was terrifying; did you even know how much you were torturing him?

“You got scared?”

“Y-yes.”

“Of a child playing the drums?”

“Yes? I mean, w-what if the girl rejects him? After a-all he’s done, it’s too scary to t-think about.”

“Right… Well, if you’re okay to continue, I promise it works out okay for him.”

“Y-yeah, we can continue.”

Swerve didn’t know whether to be relieved or hate himself when you took your usual place on the other side of the berth. He was either a genius for resolving the situation or the galaxy’s biggest idiot for ruining what could have felt wonderful, even if you had no idea what you were doing.

Swerve was restless. He’d made up the excuse that he needed to recharge when you went to bed because he couldn’t face anyone the way he was feeling; too much would come spilling out concerning you. Now, he hated himself for lying because the dull throb of his interface array was almost painful. You’d pressed against the containing panel; you’d started this, yet you got to sleep without a care or trouble in the world.

Yes… You were asleep. The realisation hit him hard. He’d pleasured himself to thoughts of you more than once before. He’d also promised himself that he wouldn’t do so again now that you lived together. Then again, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt… him.

Swerve’s interface panel opened seemingly of its own accord. He gritted his dentae together, slowly angling his head to see you, all wrapped up in blankets; the small sound hadn’t bothered you, you didn’t even stir.

Swerve grabbed hold of his already pressurised spike, pumping at it quietly, sensually. He shouldn’t be doing this. Seeing you asleep in a cute poodle tank top should have made him feel worse, he should be guilty watching you and sure a part of him was; a miniscule part which went easily ignored. The rest was more aroused; you were right there, in front of him.

He shut off his vocaliser seconds before a loud moan erupted; going this slow was torture as much as pleasure. As he rubbed his spike with one servo, he used the other to circle around his valve, finally inserting only one digit in; it was his smallest digit and the closest he had to imitating you.

If you only opened one eye, you’d see him in all his disgrace. You’d probably be disgusted, maybe even hate him. Instead, you were stuck in a deep slumber, oblivious to what was happening only feet away.

Before sharing a hab-suite with you, Swerve masturbated to various fantasies varying from fucking you over his bar, to being tied up while you dominated him; each scenario was wilder than the last and he could still see your underwear around your ankles as if it had been real.

Now however, he couldn’t see you as some exotic fantasy; not this time. You weren’t screaming his name. He wasn’t using toys on you or making you use them on yourself. He wasn’t imagining whether you could take the full length of his spike. No, this fantasy was different… tamer. In it, you were cuddled up on his lap, while the two of you told each other future hopes and dreams. It wasn’t a fantasy of lust but of love. Swerve couldn’t fully comprehend his feelings for you as his cooling fans blasted and an upcoming overload jumbled his thoughts but as he jerked off into the final stages of an overload, he loved you.

Looking down at the mess of trans-fluid covering him, Swerve wasn’t concerned with cleaning up the mess or making his cooling fans quiet down. He was even more aroused than before; he’d done it and you hadn’t woke up. He had to do it again.