#happy first night of Hanukkah

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Happy First Night Of Hanukkah My Fellow Jews

[rainbowresurrection]

LOOK WHAT MY FRIEND MADE ME FOR HANUKKAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dreadpiratejones]

"Henry gifted me this jumper. I'm not sure why there's a ghost."

[smile-files]

there's nobody nerdier than an archeologist... except for a jewish archeologist

[keylimeart]

a cozy little christmas card for you and yours

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

Merry Christmas! Was gonna draw something festive but all I have are Fentons, so here ya go <333

[alabastermask]

[spirk-trek]

A Contact Christmas | JES, 1987

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Moon's Light

Summary: Moon Knight comics universe: After everything they've been through, the hardest war has always been of the past. First Night of Hanukkah shouldn't be this hard.

Pairings: Gen fic

Warnings: Briefest of mentions of anti-semitism.

Word Count: 1,242

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It was never that big of a deal. 

He knew the stories and had tried to grasp the concepts and history behind the holiday. 

It just wasn’t a high holiday. His father had waved a hand away as he continued to study and prepare for other things. 

Young Marc Spector had watched his father do his public duties. It was all a show, wasn’t it? Competition with more prominent holidays that he had no part of, but was still expected to observe somehow. 

Blue and white decorations that mimicked the green and red garlands. Stars getting lost in the snowflake designs. Twinkling light on houses that shown brighter and longer till they made those little lights in the window mean so little. 

Stepping out of his little sheltered street to the bigger and wider world and his little ‘hat’ had been knocked off his head more time than he can remember. 

It all only added to his anger. Anger that fueled his violent blood. It was easy enough to forget things when he left. There was no day of rest when getting shot at. There was no fasting when the energy was needed to battle some villain or army. Kosher was a laugh when he was crawling through the desert eating anything he was given. 

It was a choice at first, being the man out as he refused things or muttered prayers to himself, then it was rejection as he turned face up to the sky as he ate, as he worked, as he started his first campfire to stay warm. 

Did that make it more prominent? Telling the world ‘I am doing this despite you’ was still acknowledging that ‘you’ existed. 

In time, he gave it all up. He was Marc Spector Mercenary. Marc Spector a man without a home. A man who moved from place to place because he was unwanted, unwelcome, and hated. 

And in the end, did this not make things even closer to who he didn’t want to be? 

Give it to Jake. 

It had taken him a long time to get Jake to talk to him. The rejection had been mutual. Or perhaps, Jake had simply been waiting for him. Jake settled into comfort and pleasure. He kept the fire kindled and did what he could without forcing them back into something that would hurt too much. He watched friends fade away and even old enemies disappear with a sense of something part of himself falling away with them. 

The years filled up with pain and it was getting harder and harder to cope with memories of who he was supposed to be. 

Give it to Steven

Steven took it. He judged the past and did his best to be the better man. Charity to make up for Marc’s mistakes. Or so he claimed. He struggled to make the life make sense. So little of it made sense. So much of it was filled with ghosts of what was supposed to happen. Notions of something he was supposed to do. A sense of something in his blood that filled him with a great sense of unrest. 

Now, after so much and so much chaos that dug around in his heart, they all slowly took a deep breath. 

Marc, for it was always Marc, stared down the offender with such concentration that perhaps it would fade away if he focused hard enough. 

Time had changed, but things had not. The things that had made the boy Marc so angry were still there. His brother was dead, angrier than even he had been. His mother long gone, never knowing the real Marc. His father was gone, taking with him any chance of reconciliation. 

There was still hate. There was still blame. There was still all the things that had hurt them. The only difference was time. 

Time for him to search his soul and know himself. Time for him to make peace with Jake and Steven. Time for him to understand his position as Moon Knight. 

Sun’s going down. Jake prodded.

It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a big holiday. 

So why was it so hard? Why did it suddenly mean so much right now to him? 

Let me do it. Jake reached for the matches but Marc turned away, moving their hands to his hips as he took another slow breath. 

We don’t have to do it. How is it any different from all the other years we ignored it? Steven shrugged, acting indifferent though Marc could feel the sway of his heart. 

“We have to.” Marc gritted his teeth. 

Why? Jake and Steven asked. Why do they have to? Why does Marc have to be the one? Jake would happily carry on. Steven knew the ritual. It was so organized the way he liked it. 

“Because I exist.” Marc looked out the window. “Because I’m still here. Despite it all… I’m still here.” 

He took the match book and tore off a stick. It was far from the long and beautiful matchsticks his father had used, but this felt so much more representative of Marc Spector. 

He struck once and almost seemed surprised to see himself suddenly holding the small flame, feeling the heat and lighting the room. 

He lit the candle, small as it was. It was not the Hanukkiah of his childhood. It had come in a little box boasting “full menorah kit” in big block letters. Simple and silver, it still stood sturdy. 

A shaking hand picked up the small helper candle. 

“We are still here.” Jake stepped in and took a moment to look at the candle before he moved it to the fist candle on the right. He held the light to the small wick and made sure it was properly lit before he set the candle back in place. 

Steven pulled the memory up from so long ago. He had looked it up earlier the moment he had seen the kit in Marc’s hand. Ever prepared, he had made sure the words were still there. 

He needn’t have worried. Some memories never faded. Some words lingered as if they were tattooed across his heart. 

Maybe his tongue was a little slower and maybe his voice was a little softer, but still the tune carried. 

Three prayers for the first day. Three souls welcoming in the light. 

The song followed and Jake carried it as if it were a joyful tune he’d just heard yesterday in the bar. 

When all was done, they sat in the light, watching the candles drip and burn down. The smallest menorah in the window of the Midnight Mission. 

Outside, someone stopped and gazed at the window. Marc pulled his mask down back into place. 

This was Moon Knight’s neighborhood, Moon Knight’s mission, Moon Knight’s protected people, and this was Moon Knight’s light. 

The person was a teen, hands in pockets and head down. He gazed at the menorah for a moment then looked up to the man in the white suit. 

“Chag chanuka sameach.” The teen gave a small wave. 

He licked his cracked lips, wondering if the words would hurt. “Chag chanuka sameach.” They came easily and he smiled as a relief washed over him that threatened to overwhelm him. Not because he still knew them, but for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

Moon Knight turned to open the door. The Midnight Mission was open. Now, more than ever, he had something to protect. 

[ami-ven]

Happy First Night of Chanukah!

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Happy 1st Night!!!!

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

hanukkah sameach to quinn hughes specifically who has been forced to appear in both the christmas and hanukkah photo for his team on twitter i am thinking of u when i make this nhl hanukkah twitter post spreadsheet bud

[koumori-1999]

merry crisis

[kitkat-the-muffin]

Silly Game Time: WRONG ANSWERS ONLY! "YOU THERE, TUMBLR-USER! WHAT DAY IS IT TODAY!?"

IT’S EASTER SIR!!

[trans-yllz]

ah and my bestie is not coming over like we'd planned. have I mentioned I feel sick to my stomach?

[bek-a-la]