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usaigi · 1 year

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The Miracle of Hanukkah

Lunar sys au character cards | Read on ao3 | Read all chapters on ao3

Written for Hanukkah Bingo hosted by @aimmyarrowshigh and special thanks to @fdelopera to beta reading and answering all my questions

‘So I spoke to our therapist–’

‘Great,’ Marc groans bitterly.

‘Don’t be rude. I spoke to our therapist about maybe celebrating Hanukkah. Birdy, Jake and Jacobito made a comment about not remembering it at all so I think it would be fun if we did something.’

‘No.’

‘No? What do you mean no? It’s Hanukkah, it’s fun! We could even do presents and–’

‘No.’

‘Marc. We talked about this, you can’t just shoot down my ideas for no reason. You need to talk to me.’

‘Presents are for kids, we’re adults. If we want something, we can just buy it,’ he snaps, sounding more irritated with every word. ‘Presents aren’t even traditional, it is an American thing to copy Christmas. What do presents have to do with a candle staying lit for 8 days?’

‘First of all, that’s the overly simplified version of Hanukkah that we tell goys, it’s more than that. Second of all, it’s not a kid thing, it’s part of our culture, and I don’t think it’s very fair that I hold all our good memories. It’s fun and I think we all deserve a little joy. Plus even if it was just a kid thing we have three kids in our system,’ Steven says defensively. Marc could still be a self-serving dickhead, but Steven is ready to fight for the kids. After all the bullshit they have to deal with, they deserve a fun holiday. They all do.

‘Fine. You do what you want. You’re planning it though,’ Marc relents after a minute.

Layla, the wonderful angel she is, is ecstatic over the idea. Apparently, in all their years of marriage, Marc has refused to celebrate any Jewish holiday and insisted he was “content with celebrating” (emphasis on the air quotes) her cultural holidays with her extended family.

It had never felt right with her, telling Steven that part of intercultural marriage is celebrating both sides, not putting one culture above another. But like all “heavy” things, anytime Layla had pushed, Marc shut down. Eventually, she learned to drop it.

No better time than the present to start a new tradition, Steven thinks. If all goes well, Steven hopes that the others will agree to do Tu B'shevat and Purim and so on.

---

“So we just light the candles?” Jake asks out loud despite it clearly being a question for Steven.

‘Yes! And we have to do it before sunset because that's when Shabbat starts. We have to say the Hanukkah blessings and the Shehechiyanu first. I printed it out in roman letters for you, do you want to try to say it with me?’ Jake shakes his head quickly. ‘Why don’t I say it and you can copy me?’ Pressing his lips together and looking down towards his hand, Jake gives an uneasy nod.

Steven sings, pausing after every couple of words so that Jake can copy, slowly reciting each blessing.

“That was my first time speaking Hebrew…” Jake mumbles as he brings the extra candle towards the first candle and then the shamash.

Layla looks on, squinting her eyes. “I’m sure Steven doesn’t mind teaching you,” she says softly.

‘Yeah mate, anytime you want.’

“I don’t know, it's his and Marc things–”

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a part of me, it’s an us thing.’

“I’ll think about it.”

After singing Haneirot Hallalu and Maoz Tzur, Steven pushes Jake to open his present. A metallic blue gift bag with tissue paper peaking out. With shaky hands, he gently tosses the tissue paper aside to reveal his gift.

“It looks like Gatarina,” Jake says softly when he pulls out the sweater from the gift bag. It’s a black sweater with a menorah printed out on the center, with two white cats mirroring each other on either side. ‘Meowzel Tov’ is written just above it, along with a pattern of dreidels and hearts and stars and candles. “Thanks, I love it.”

“Steven put something else in there,” Layla says, giving him a playful wink.

With his lips pressed together, Jake reaches back into the bag to pull out another tiny sweater–much much smaller than the first. A navy blue sweater with a menorah and the phrase ‘Let’s Get Lit’ on it. “For Gatarina!?” Jake's face breaks out into a smile, eyes lighting up, immediately making eye contact with the fluffy kitty who is far more interested in playing with the discarded paper.

After successfully bribing her with cat treats and (gently) wrestling her into the sweater( she loves it, Jake insists), Jake, Gatarina, and Layla group up for a family picture, commemorating their first day of Hanukkah.

---

On the second day of Hanukkah, Birdy wiggles herself to the front as soon as she spots the present wrapped with bird wrapping paper. Birdy and Steven manage to stay co-con and sing the blessings together with minimal difficulties.

‘Your Hebrew is pretty good,’ Steven comments, a bit surprised. She even knew that they had to wait for Shabbat to end and to recite the havdalah blessings first before lighting the Hanukkah flame.

‘Yeah, papi used to celebrate Shabbat with me at the hospital,’ she says with a small voice. Steven doesn’t pry, he would hate to ruin her smile.

Unlike Jake, Birdy has no reservations about opening her gift, tearing straight into it. Birdy doesn’t even say anything when she realizes what it is, mostly just a high pitch squeal of excitement and full-body wiggles as she brings it up to her chest to squeeze it tight—her very own Squishmellow. A bird– of course –a seagull to be precise, eating a handful–sorry, beakful of french fries.

“Aw he’s eating french fries because of Hanukkah. They’re fried in oil. I love him. And look, Steven, his name is also Steve,” Birdy hums.

“Please don’t call him Steve. Jake and Jacobito are enough of a headache…”

---

Daniela, much like Marc, made it very clear to everyone that this whole thing was stupid and refuses to participate. “Gifts are for kids and a distraction from the true meaning,” she claims. “Eight gifts is excessive, mami only did one gift.”

Steven squints, distinctly having memories of dad and himself opening presents in his room, under the cover of nightfall. But Steven knows better than to argue with Daniela, historically it has never ended well for him. The fact that she hadn’t thrown their menorah out the window was enough of a win in his book, and Steven learned early on to count even the smallest of wins.

Daniela fronts that evening, using her time in the body to sulk by the fireplace with Gatarina in her lap and a glass of wine in hand.

As the evening rain hits the window, the menorah stays lifeless and dim. Much like Daniela’s holiday spirit.

Layla comes into the living room after some time, festive store-bought donuts and a gift in hand as a peace offering. She places the donuts on the coffee table and lays Daniela’s present next to her.

“Steven wanted you to have this, he picked it out just for you,” Layla says and Daniela looks away. “Open it? For me?” Layla tries again, pouting her lips and giving her the biggest puppy dog eyes.

Fine, Daniela rolls her eyes before tearing into the gift: a book. A cookbook, Sephardi: Cooking the History.

“A cookbook? Tell Steven I’m not his fucking mom, I’m not going to make him shit just because he buys me a book.”

Dani makes gorditas. Sure it’s already almost nine but they’re European and their sleep schedule is already fucked up. The gorditas are similar to the pupusas Wendy would make, slight variations to the dough and how it’s typically fried, but the idea is there. A shell made out of masa harina and a variety of different fillings. Years may have gone by but memories are etched into her hands. Daniela still remembers what the dough is supposed to feel like, and how to flatten the disc by passing it from one hand to the other. She remembers all the Kashrut laws, even though it’s only Steven, Birdy, and Kid who observe them.

She also remembers sitting at their kitchen table in silence, observing everything. How mami’s hand would get covered in harina, and how the wrinkles in her forehead would set, and all the subtle twitches her mami would make. Dani didn’t help, the risk of upsetting her with anything less than perfection wasn’t worth it. She just rested her head on her arms, careful to not even breathe louder than necessary. She just watched, careful to keep precise notes to carry on the tradition and her legacy.

“Why are you so serious?” Layla asks, looking over the lettuce she was tasked to shred.

“No reason,” Dani mumbles. “Just thinking.”

“Do you want to listen to some music?”

Dani nods.

The gorditas turn out delicious; the crunchy outside with a soft bean and cheese filling: the cool lettuce and sour cream cutting through all the oil for the perfect balance.

After dinner Dani even lets Layla help with making the buñuelos (by help, Layla gets to dust the buñuelos with sugar).

And as they slip their atole and take a nibble on their buñuelos, Dani can’t help but chuckle at all the sugar Layla has on her face, specks of sweet dust all over her mouth and nose. She reaches over, dusting off the sugar on the tip of her nose and kissing her lips gently.

Daniela promises to be less grouchy about it next year.

---

“Kid? Do you want to light the menorah?” Layla asks on the fourth day.

“Yes please!”

“Steven’s not co-con is he? He can’t help you with the blessings?”

“No, but I know how to do them,” Kid smiles softly but sincerely.

‘Hey, Kid. Are we doing presents? Can I open mine too?’ Jacobito sneaks in as soon as Kid finishes singing the Hanukkah songs.

‘Steven says there’s eight of us and eight days of Hanukkah, so we can each open one present every night.’

‘We don’t need to tell Steven everything,’ Jake says slyly.

‘I don’t want to lie to him!’

‘No, not lie. Just don’t tell.’

‘I have an idea, maybe. Why don’t we play dreidel and the winner gets to open the present tonight?’

‘Órale vatito.’

Initially, they were going to play with matchsticks but Ms. Layla quickly came in to confiscate them. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Kid. I don’t trust you and Jacobito with matchsticks and a game.”

They use gelt instead.

Layla offers to spin on Jacobito’s behalf, instead of trying to rapidly switch because that never ends well. Kid divides the chocolate coins into two even piles, going over all the rules with Layla and Jacobito. They spin, adding to the pot, taking half, adding more, taking it all. Jacobito screams in his head like Marc does when he watches sports, as if it would impact the dreidel in any way.

With one coin left, Layla spins the dreidel one more time for Jacobito.

The end game.

The final spin to determine if he was still in the game or if Kid wins the pot (and the opportunity to open his gift).

The dreidel spins, and spins and—

Shin.

“Fuck!!” Jacobito cries forcefully making his way to the front, vaguely hearing Layla say ‘hey!’ in the background. That gives Jacobito an idea. And as an act of protest, Jacobito grabs a handful of gelt coins, roughly half the pot, and stuffs them all into his mouth.

Exasperated, Layla extends her hand, palm facing up, and with great frustration says, “Spit it out.” Like a guilty dog, Jacobito turns his head from side to side, up and down. But as soon as Layla uses her serious eyes , the eyes she usually reserves for Marc when he’s being an ass, Jacobito lowers his eyes and spits all the coins out, covered in slobber.

Layla, predictably makes a face of disgust at his spittal, but still gives Jacoboto a small kiss on the forehead.

‘Jake? If it’s really important to you, you can open your gift. It’s okay with me…’ Kid mumbles.

‘No, you won. It’s not fair…’

Jacobito doesn’t fight when Kid asks for the front, so with his tail between his legs and head hanging heavily, Jacobito leaves to hide from his shame until, “Jacobito? Wanna open my present with me?” Kid asks, his gift bag already in hand.

Jacobito nods.

“Coloring books! And more pencils! Ms. Layla, do you want to color with us? Jake you too?”

Jacobito nods again.

---

‘Of course, you know Hebrew. Is there anything you can’t do?’ Marc groans after watching Mr. Knight perfectly recite the blessings.

“No,” says Mr. Knight in their typical blasé attitude.

Mr. Knight unwinds the ribbon tied around the box to reveal an elegant blue and silver fountain pen with ‘Mr. Knight’ engraved into the barrel. There’s a substantial heft and a nice balance to it.

‘Can it be used as a weapon?’ They ask, twirling the pen in their fingers.

‘Dude.’

‘I’m joking,’ says Mr. Knight, face completely flat. They both know that a pen is a far more deadly weapon than any sword. Rest assured, it could be used as a weapon in case of an emergency, but why waste such a personalized gift for something as trivial as murder?

---

‘You’re not going to say the blessings?’ Daniela asks suspiciously, surprised to find Marc flopped on the couch instead of celebrating.

‘Did you?’

‘Fine. Be an ass, I don’t give a shit,’ She sneers. ‘I didn’t want to do this either. But the kids are having fun so…I had fun. I helped asshole-Jake make empanadas this morning. They’re in the fridge, you just need to fry them. Open your dumb gift and have dinner with your wife y no handes chigando.’

‘I’m only doing this for Steven, and for the kids,’ Marc thinks to himself. They do deserve to be happy after all the shit they’ve had to live with. Nevertheless, it feels impossible. The blessings, the candles, and the present keep distorting into fear and pain and yelling.

Marc’s grown, so why is it still so hard to open a damn present?

‘It used to be fun. As kids. Last time we had a real Hannukah was when we were seven and he was still alive,’ says Marc, telling Daniela what he can’t tell Steven. ‘She was always worse around this time. Seasonal depression, dad would say. I was stuck at home with her all break with nowhere to hide, and dad stayed at work late… I think if she wasn’t under so much pressure from the community she would have canceled all holidays. I remember one year she yelled at dad, going on about how I don’t deserve any gifts. He still gave me some, just made me promise to keep it secret…

‘All behind closed doors, of course. Every year I was still expected to force a smile and pretend to enjoy our sorry excuse for Hanukkah. My dad would set up the tripod and we’d take a happy family picture and pretend like it wasn’t a lie. That my mom wasn’t sitting down because she was too drunk to stand up, or that my sweater wasn’t supposed to be oversized, that it wasn’t just because I was too depressed to eat.’

‘Your childhood sucked…’

‘Prima, we had the same childhood.’

‘Ha. Quit moping and open your damn present.’

The Chosen One, the box says. ‘Oh cool, it’s like Cards Against Humanity,’ Marc tells Daniela who nods along, mildly interested. He flips the box over to find a note stuck on the back with Steven’s handwriting.

‘Happy Hanukkah, Marc. I know you’re going to say something rude, about how we don’t have any friends so this gift is pointless, but I was thinking that we can pick a question card once a day, and anyone who fronts that day can add whatever blue card they think is funny. Love you, mate. Happy Hanukkah.’

---

‘Jaaaaake,’ Birdy whistles, crying out for Jacobito in the inner world. ‘If you don’t come out I’m going to open your present for you~’

‘Nooooo–’ Jacobito yells.

‘Are you done sulking?’

‘I wasn’t sulking,’ he pouts.

‘Then what do you call hiding out and barricading your door in the inner world?’

‘Enrichment time in my enclosure.’

‘You want to front?’ Jacobito doesn’t answer. ‘I bet we put your gift aside and you can open it next time you front?’

‘Isn’t that against the rules? I thought the whole point was to open the present on Hanukkah or else they’re not even Hanukkah presents.’

‘So you do want to front?’ Birdy crips, swaying back and forth. ‘Steven’s not around, I bet we could get away with fried bananas and ice cream for dinner.’

Damnit, Birdy did know all of Jake’s secrets.

Focusing, Jake takes the front. Concentrating on grounding, finding his center, all that hippie-therapist bullshit. Wiggle his toes, wiggle his fingers, name all the types of cars, Courvette, Ferrari Enzo, Shelby Cobra… There we go, grounded . Jake couldn’t feel Birdy anymore but he can always catch her up later.

Jake rips through the blue wrapping paper and–

“No fucking way!” Jake says out loud, instantly recognizing the signature box. He tosses the lid to the side, unboxing his new sneakers. Sneakers! Nike Air Force 1 High By You, with white hightops and soles, and the signature swoosh a royal blue. Jewish colors.

Jake had asked (begged) Steven for a vape, arguing that it was on theme for Hanukkah because of the oil or whatever, but Steven had said that sharing a body with Marc Spector already gave them too many douche points. Marc had a fantasy football league and unironically drank American piss beer, for crying out loud.

Still, Jake never got to be a teenage dirtbag and do all the dumb shit that actual teenagers get to do. It was a stupid request, but Jake wanted it. He wanted to do all the dumb stuff Marc and Steven got to do. Like skip class to take a girl out on a date, or sneak out to go to a party and get drunk. Even now, all Jake can do is play video games and call dudes cringe for sucking ass in Fortnight.

Layla raised her eyebrows. “This doesn’t mean you get to wear them indoors. You’ve still got to take them off when you come in.”

Sure, sure. Whatever. The sneakers couldn’t give him the freedom he really wanted, but it was something. Something cool that made him feel like himself.

---

The sun sets on the Lunar system's first successful Hanukkah. Marc joins Steven to recite the blessings before the two light all the candles.

With her hands behind her back, Layla comes in to kiss their cheek and whisper, “Happy Hanukkah, habibi.”

“Thank you,” Steven smiles, taking the lid off the gift box. He pulls out the item, Layla taking one corner to help reveal the blue plush fleece blanket to its full glory. A blanket with everyone’s name, and ‘Lunar System’ written across the center. Kid, Mr. Knight, Jake, Jacobito, Birdy, Marc, Daniela, Steven, and Layla.

His family.

“Did you pick this?” Steven asks Layla eagerly, in awe of the thought.

“I ordered it, but Marc suggested it.”

“Thank you, Marc,” Steven says out loud as Layla kisses their cheek.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

“After Judah the Maccabee defended the Greeks in battle, the Jews returned to the Temple in Jerusalem and found only one day's worth of pure oil. That oil lasted eight days. A miracle. It should have been extinguished, but it didn’t, it burned on, bright, warm… it stayed alive. Kinda like we did,” Steven says softly to Marc, stroking Layla's arm as her head rests in his lap. She’d fallen asleep before Steven could finish reading her the chapter, but he doesn’t mind.

“The body survived the physical battle against… mom’s abuse–” His voice cracks slightly, the words still taste like tar in his mouth. “And our brain survived the spiritual battle by doing what it needed to do. When it was too hard, it helped us survive. A miracle…”

‘When we were kids, you kept us safe–spiritually. The emotional parts kept us safe physically, but you let us live . Not just survive. You are our light, Steven. Thank you.’

Happy Hanukkah!

#moon knight #hannukah #mk lunar sys #usaigi speaks #hanukkahbingo #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #layla el faouly #marvel #moonknight #moon knight fanfic

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barbiegirldream · 2 years

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Genuine question since I had never heard of juneteenth before being introduced to it on Twitter last year (I'm not American), is it a widely celebrated commemoration day (type mlk day) or is it more of an unofficial community thing? I feel like lack of education on CCs part could deffo be a part of the reason for their silence if it's the latter. (still agree that there's no way they haven't seen anything about it when they're chronically online though lol)

Juneteenth isn't widely celebrated but it's becoming a more mainstream holiday. If you googled it yesterday google had confetti !! Juneteenth is a celebration and remembrance that it wasn't until June 19th 1865 that all slaves were emancipated because Texas waited two years until making the declaration that their slaves were free. It is a Federally recognized holiday and one I find more important than Black History Month cause like wtf is that supposed to mean? Schools sure aren't teaching that history

Anyways the CCs know about Juneteenth. Last year Dream did make a tweet about it. But CCs are more prone to tweeting about things they're directly tied to. ie if you're queer, queer issues matter to you. Dream has multiple years in a row made tweets about indigenous people's day which a lot of people don't as it's the same as national coming out day. And he's said he's made an effort to connect with that side of his family more so you know personal to him.

Juneteenth is not personal to really any CC in the minecraft sphere though i doubt anyone out mcyt it said anything.

Like I said I don't expect anything from anyone and no one is being singled out I'm just speaking Dream cause well he's usually the most outspoken doesn't mean he has to be. It is just a little :/ how often Queer support is promoted over BIPOC support

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mask131 · 1 year

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Cold winter: Krampus

KRAMPUS

Category: Alpine folklore

Nowadays everybody seems to know Krampus in one way or another thanks to media coverage… But the American view of the Krampus tend to get REALLY weird. So let’s return to what actually is Krampus.

Krampus is not a “Christmas” character but a Saint Nicholas character. The Feast of Saint Nicholas was basically “Christmas before Christmas”: in certain parts of Europe, on the 6th of December, Saint Nicholas’s day is celebrated as a holiday for children, where good little boys and girls receive gifts from Saint Nicholas himself (who IS the ancestor of Santa Claus, as the Dutch version of Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas, was brought to the US and there slowly turned into the American Santa Claus). Saint Nicholas either arrives on the morning of the 6th, or gives the gifts during the night from the 5th to the 6th. So he is the European Santa Claus. And he has a “companion” – as most “European Santa Clauses” do. A companion in charge of punishing naughty little children, while the other is the gift-giver ; a scary or threatening figure to complement the nice and sweet one. Saint Nicholas’s companion, in Central and Eastern Alpes, tends to be Krampus.

Krampus is a hairy fanged and horned demonic figure: covered in a black fur he has cloven hooves, a long pointy tongue that is always out of his mouth, and he usually carries chains (that he likes to thrash around – sometimes they’ll have bells on them to make even more noise). Those chains aren’t so much a “tool” or “weapon” of Krampus as rather his bindings… Indeed, these chains are wrapped around the demon, and once were held by Saint Nicholas: it is a manifestation of the theme of “The Saint binding the Devil” that exists in many different myths and figures across Europe. Saint Nicholas, the power of good and God, defeated and enslaved the demon/devil Krampus. Now they work in a duo: where Saint Nicholas gives modest and humble gifts like chocolate, walnuts, oranges, dried fruits and other “old-fashioned” gifts, Krampus gives an “old-fashioned” punishment: whipping, or beating. Krampus usually does that with birch rods (hence the name of his specific type of punishment, “birching”). This bundle of branches is swats children with is called the “Rute”. It isn’t however the only mean Krampus has to punish naughty children: he also usually carries with him a big bag or a large basket: in it, he usually places disobedient and nasty children to be taken away. What happens to these kids? Legends do not agree. Some say Krampus is a child-eater, others claim he rather drowns the kids he takes away. Sometimes he will drop his prisoners into Hell, from which he comes from, while other times the children simply disappear away and are never seen again.

When I say that the Krampus is part of “Central and Eastern Alpine folklore”, don’t think that it means a few little countries. The Alps cover a LOT of European countries, and the Krampus exists in a LOT of European countries. Eight different areas are concerned with the existence of this figure: Germany (especially Bavaria), Austria, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Hungary, Croatia, and the northern part of Italy (including things such as Trento or the South Tyrol). And even when Krampus himself doesn’t exist in neighboring countries, he still appears under a different name: such as “Schmutzli” in Switzerland. This notably leads to several local “variations” of the figure and its traditions. For example in big Austrian cities the Krampus exists not as a threatening entity but as a comical and humoristic character making people laugh during Christmas markets. In Styria (a region of Austria), Krampus leaves to the families he visits his “Rute”, painted gold, and it is displayed all the year in the house as a reminder to children: never forget the Krampus! In fact, in some rural areas of Styria, Krampus does NOT come alongside Saint Nicholas, but instead arrives with a group of wild men wearing antlers called “Schabmänner”, who are his own sidekicks. The idea of golden branches also exists in Croatia, where the tradition of Saint Nicholas Day has good children receiving a gold branch, when bad children see their gold branches stolen away by Krampus who replaces it with a silver branch. The first written source about the history of the Krampus comes from the 16th century, at the end of which people commented about the “Perchten customs” (see below) ; and by the 17th century Krampus was testified as a well-rooted and popular figure of the Alpine “Christmas season”. While Saint Nicholas became popular in Germany around the 11th century (and had to “fight” to make his feast day a day for children, as other children-celebrations such as Martinmas or the Feast of the Holy Innocents were fierce rivals) and is clearly rooted in a purely Christian tradition, the appearance of the Krampus figure in the 16th century as “men becoming devils by putting on masks and animal skins” acting as “boisterous nuisances” through the celebration is a very clear mix of both medieval “church plays” (in which the devil or demon played what was called the “schauriglustig”, the “dreadful-comic”) and of earlier pagan traditions of the Alps. In Austria, interestingly, since the 30s and all the way to the 50s the Krampus celebrations were strongly prohibited and banned by an alliance of Christian groups and fascist governments – but today the Krampus traditions are being revived (in fact Bavaria seems to be the European leader of the “Krampus revival”).

As I said, Saint Nicholas can give children his gifts either on his feast day, the morning of the 6th of December, or during the eve of his feast day, in the night of the 5th of December. Krampus will always accompany him, to give coal and whipping to the naughty children… But while sometimes the duo of the Saint and the devil appears during the evening of the 5th, in other traditions the Saint only comes on the day of the 6th, while the Krampus roams alone the streets during the eve of the day: in this tradition, the night from the 5th to the 6th is known as “Krampusnacht”, “Krampus’ Night”. In fact, the popularity and importance of Krampus is so strong that often, even if Saint Nicholas accompany him, people still call this magical night the “Night of the Krampus” to separate it from the “Day of Saint Nicholas”. Speaking of popularity: ever since the 19th century, alongside traditional Christmas greeting cards or Saint Nicholas greeting cards, there was a boom of “Krampuskarten”… Krampus greeting cards. Cards with humorous rhymes, holiday poems and “greeting from Krampus”, that started out as creepy and disturbing items in which the Krampus was depicted as a monster making children cry, or a violent punisher inflicting all sorts of abuse on kids – but as time went by, the humor and comedy slowly started to win over the card tradition. As a result modern cards either go for a “cute” Krampus softened into some sort of comical Cupid-like entity ; or they go with a more “adult” theme by being very erotic in nature, and depicting the Krampus as a lustful being hunting down, kissing (or being kissed) by beautiful (or very curvy) women (the “long tongue out of the mouth”, once a symbol of devouring and hideousness, now being like the Wolf’s exaggerated whistles in “Red Hot Riding Hood”).

There is also a general confusion between the Krampus and the Perchten, another type of “wild/demonic figure” of the European Christmas season – the Perchten being wild spirits of Germany appearing as humanoid goats, and usually being active during the Twelve Nights of Christmas. There is a tradition called “Perchtenlaufen”, where people disguise themselves as the Perchten with animal furs and fake heads, and then parade through the streets – parades that usually are tied to a mock-fight between the wild ugly Perchten, and a group of people dressed in beautiful costumes (representing the “good” and “order” to the Perchten’s “evil” and “chaos”). This tradition kind of “bled” into the Krampus celebrations and gave birth to the custom of the Krampuslauf: parades through towns of young men dressed as the Krampus, and in which they make as much loud, wild and “devilish” things as possible in hope of scaring or threatening the audience that watches them pass by in the street. It is still happening today and became a really big thing, similar to Halloween parades.

- - -

What else to say?

It is traditional, when a Krampus performer visits your home, to offer them a glass of schnapps. And Krampus manifestations tended to take a very controversial approach recently… Beyond the fascists and Christians trying to ban these “pagan” rites, sometimes the Krampus performers might go too far (or people use the “Krampus Night” as an excuse), which can result in harassment and forms of public destruction, turning the celebration into more chaos. Other times it is the reverse, and some people who react badly to the Krampus-performers frights, pranks and antics can decide to actually attack the Krampuses. Generally, very often nowadays when there are Krampus performances there tends to be someone hurt or something burned. Oh yes, and there are two theories about the origin of the Krampus name. One claims it comes from the German “kramp/krampen”, “claw” ; the other rather invokes the Bavarian “krampn” which means “dead/rotten”.

#cold winter #krampus #christmas folklore #saint nicholas #alpine folklore

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96thdayofrage · 2 years

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The Juneteenth flag, explained

The flag’s designer shares the story and inspiration for his design.

As the Juneteenth holiday approaches, you’ll start to see various symbols of Blackness across the country. Front lawns, apartment balconies and clothing with the Pan-African flag, “Black Power” fist, and other celebratory symbols will be everywhere. But did you know there’s a specific flag for Juneteenth?

In fact, it has a backstory that goes back to the late 1990s. Capital B spoke with Ben Haith, the flag’s creator, and others to learn more about its history and impact.

The history

Haith, a community organizer and activist known better as “Boston Ben,” created the flag in 1997. In an interview with Capital B Atlanta, Haith said once he learned about Juenteenth, he felt passionately that it needed representation.

“I was just doing what God told me,” Haith said. “I have somewhat of a marketing background, and I thought Juneteenth, what it represented, needed to have a symbol.”

Haith wasn’t impressed by his initial version — a “rough draft” — but every Juneteenth holiday he would raise the flag near his son’s middle school in Roxbury, a majority Black community in Boston.

After getting some inspiration, he knew which colors and symbols he wanted in the flag, he just needed to finalize it. That’s when he met illustrator Lisa Jeanne-Graf, who responded to an ad in a local newspaper and finalized the flag in 2000.

The design elements

The colors

Juneteenth is often associated with red, green, and black: the colors of the Pan-African flag. However, those aren’t the colors of the Juneteenth flag. The banner shares the colors of the American flag: red, white, and blue. In the past, Haith has said it was a purposeful choice — a reminder that Black Americans descended from enslaved people are exactly that: American.

“For so long, our ancestors weren’t considered citizens of this country,” Haith said. “But realistically, and technically, they were citizens. They just were deprived of being recognized as citizens. So I thought it was important that the colors portray red, white and blue which we see in the American flag.”

Steven Williams, the president of the National Juneteenth Observance Foundation, agreed with the sentiment.

“We’re Americans of African descent,” Williams said. His foundation’s mission statement, he added, “is to bring all Americans together to join our common bond of freedom.”

There has been some debate about whether the Juneteenth flag is the most appropriate symbol for the holiday. Haith said he understood why people could have some hesitancy around using a red, white, and blue flag to commemorate the freedom of enslaved people, which some see as an honor to the oppressors of Black Americans.

“Some of us were raised to recognize the American flag, we salute the American flag, we pledged allegiance to the American flag,” Haith said when asked about skepticism around the flag. “We had relatives who went to war to fight for this country. We put a lot into this country even when our ancestors were enslaved. They worked to help make this country an economic power in the world.”

The star

The star in the middle of the flag has a dual meaning: On June 19, 1865, enslaved Black people in Galveston, Texas, were informed of the Emancipation Proclamation, President Abraham Lincoln’s declaration of the freedom of enslaved people. The star is meant to represent Texas as the Lone Star state, but also the freedom of enslaved citizens.

Williams also spoke of the use of stars as key to help enslaved people escape to freedom.

“When people were escaping down the Underground Railroad … they used stars to navigate where they were at, when they were going up and down,” he said.

With its dual meaning, it’s meant to represent the role that Texas plays in the history of Juneteenth, but also serves as another reminder that Black people are free.

The outline around the star and arch

The outline was inspired by a nova, which is an explosion in space that creates the appearance of a new star. In this instance, it represents both enslaved people being free and a new beginning for Black Americans, Haith said.

Dividing the red and blue in the middle of the flag is an arch, which has similar meaning to the white outline around the star. The curve is meant to represent a “new horizon.”

Williams hopes the design reminds people to keep in mind that new beginnings take effort.

“I tell young people, ‘you are free,’” he said. “You might have obstacles, you might have hurdles, but you are free. … And you need to exercise that freedom, which is liberty.”

The timing

Juneteeth is now a federal holiday, nearly 200 years after enslaved people in Texas were informed of their freedom. The change, signed into law by President Joe Biden in 2021, came at the behest of demands for racial progress following the police murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis. Cities across the country were forced to reckon with calls to remove and rename monuments and institutions honoring Confederate leaders of the past.

In Richmond, Virginia, a capital of the former Confederacy, monuments of Confederate generals that were centuries old were dismantled after protester demands across the country. In metro Atlanta, there is an ongoing debate around the removal of Confederate leaders etched on the side of Stone Mountain. It is said to be the largest monument to the Confederacy in the world.

In America, the Southern Poverty Law Center estimates that at least 160 Confederate symbols were dismantled in 2020.

Individual states started to recognize Juneteenth as an official holiday prior to President Biden’s declaration. The first was Texas made in 1980, and more states followed suit in 2020.

Theo Foster, a professor of African American History at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, noted that symbols celebrating Black pride are important, but they’re not enough.

“We tend to just hold on to symbols and let the material go,” he said. “That’s where I’m hypercritical of progress narratives, and flags and 1619 projects, because we don’t get to that point of where the rubber meets the road where the symbols meet the experience of Black boy joy or Black girl magic.”

The banner’s impact

Williams recognizes the flag as a larger part of his organization’s decades-long campaign to make Juneteenth a national holiday. The National Juneteenth Observance Foundation has been on the front lines of the fight to have Juneteenth nationally recognized since its founding in 1997. Haith himself is a member.

Foster says he sees the Juneteenth flag as an attempt to honor Black Americans’ enslaved ancestors.

“Racism exists, anti-Blackness exists. How do we respond to that problem?” he said. “I think the Juneteenth Flag is an attempt to respond to that harm that is ongoing. I think people are right to be critical of it, but also to be in conversation of what’s useful about it.”

Haith said he’s been overwhelmed by the fact that Juneteenth is now a federal holiday, and feels honored when people use the flag.

“I believe we represent our ancestors,” Haith said. “When we celebrate, we’re celebrating for them, and we’re celebrating for the future of our people. The flag represents the people of the past, it represents us, and it will represent the people in the future.”

Kenya Hunter is a reporter covering health at Capital B Atlanta. Before joining Capital B, Hunter served as an award-winning education reporter at the Richmond Times-Dispatch.

More from the Juneteenth issue of The Highlight.

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tetsunabouquet · 5 months

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Part 2: my Personal Opinion

Now, considering I refered to is as an epic blunder, obviously I am cringing in hindsight. I can understand how for the people from this specific time period, most of whom not having ever seen a black person outside of racist caricatures, would not understand that this could offend some and how it would come to backfire upon them. Still, I too have a icky taste in my mouth for using a specific group of people for commercial reasons. However, that doesn't mean I agree and am happy, with the way it turnt out. In the 80s, there actually was black person who got to play Sinterklaas and there was an entire uproar with the black people in my country included, saying that Sinterklaas is white and the Zwarte Pieten are black. There were some individuals who got hurt, but it never got to the level where the concept actually got called into question, until BLM made a documentary about it and lied about the cultural history behind what painting your skin black meant in our culture. Then protest groups were formed, some of those were legit teased in their childhood, but most were just greedy attention whores, a very notorious example being a Dutch celebrity named Sylvana Simons. She had been one of those celebrities who always flopped and just seemed to latch onto anything to get herself attention. She had switched into politics just around the time the documentary dropped and she latched onto their narrative like a leech. I used to follow art classes with this black girl who actually defended our cultural usage of the Zwarte Pieten and she called Sylvana a crazy banana herself, saying the holiday wasn't meant for adult politics but for the kids. And that is the running sentiment across the anti-protesters, that adults are crashing a children's party as they really do. Because these protestors in a sea of children is a safety hazard, and some towns literally felt forced to comply the agenda's new alternative when they wanted to do the Zwarte Pieten concept. These protests aren't peaceful, when they are literally intimidating a parade filled with children. These protestors are legit bullies, and it got to the point where we got called out by the UN for our tradition. Despite the fact its actually is also very similar to a Persian tradition that actually got put on the world heritage list by the UN... (Dutch Irani actually have also publically defended our tradition because they could see the similarities to their tradition). The new alternative they created, was rainbow colored Pieten, like pink and yellow. Another alternative that has been opted was having your face smudged with black paint like dirty stains but even that look has been criticized by the protestors. Personally I loathe the rainbow concept. Our ancestors painted their skin black as it was the color of death. That's like changing the color of St. Patrick's day, you can't do that! How do all the centuries old childrens songs make sense if they're no longer black? I personally prefer the smudges alternative, but my personal choice? Stop imitating black people, ditch the fake afros and reintroduce bits of the original look!

When I look at these Heilung pictures, I am like, yes! That looks cool, and as a woman I really am digging the alternative look for women. It brings back the Holda theme, as she was both called the White Lady as well as The Black Grandmother (see, how we have habit of nicknames revolving mystical figures of death using the word 'Black'? Zwarte Piet literally used to be our nickname for the grim reaper). I want to keep the roots of my culture alive and not trade in one of the few traditions we have left from our tribal roots for the sake of an American organization and the Dutch citizens reiterating their propoganda for cloud.

Especially considering the hypocrisy of it all: America uses elements of our tradition for commercial purposes, Father Christmas didn't even had an iconic look until Coca Cola created a Sinterklaas rip-off in the 50s. There are entire movies surrounding Christmas, merchandise, etc, etc. I thought the academic definition of cultural appropriation was a company making profit off of a culture's tradition without crediting them and giving them financial compensation. By the academic definition, companies all around the globe but America especially, have been guilty of appropriating Sinterklaas for many years, so many have made millions off of Sinterklaas' back but when they look at Sinterklaas and see something they don't like, that gigantic country bullies our small country they stole it from into compliance. It's sickening how America has gotten away with this behavior so far. I get we should change our look, but America doesn't gets to decide for us what it should look like. America doesn't gets to decide how a foreign cultures history and warpaint gets to look. Wilders holds some radical views, but he is the best man when it comes to putting his foot down and daring to stand against America, considering our previous leader kissed the feet of all important organizations for good PR and money. It's why we're still a tax paradise and arguable got even worse during his reign. Our previous leader was trying not to ruffle anyone's feathers as long as they held status. Our monarchy is another popular example. Whilst Wilders is the opposite. I really wonder how his reign will influence the conversation surrounding Sinterklaas, I really do. I just hope the protestors and the anti-protestors don't end up hurting or scaring some children around this time. Whilst I would love a look that actually goes back to celebrating our culture, their happiness and safety is the most important thing of all.

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tempouse84 · 2 years

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What Is My Shopping Genie? An Insider's Report About My Shopping Genie

I'm a highly dedicated shopper, often searching high and low for the perfect associated with shoes, the just-right gift for a family member, or any number of other products. But you are going to catch me schlepping bags from store to store or fighting the crowds at the mall. I do almost all of my shopping online - which means should you. Why? The following four great reasons to start shopping online. Online stores are identified as to have lower prices than other shops. This means that you will get the item you want for less and buy it delivered for you or directly to the person you in order to be give a pair of triusers to. The bottom prices could possibly good and bad thing where utilizing concerned. fashion bags And can prices support you to get but don't for less but many find that they buy more because of this. A superb to stay safe when looking for online through using avoid clicking any web addresses that are sent on the email. A person don't are expecting an email from a company, check out the actual website and don't click any links. Legitimate businesses don't send emails asking internet hosting is information or account guideline. Make a practice of reading expert reviews and customer reviews. This task again is time-consuming and could not be completed inside a sitting. Expect that the reviewers will not agree. However, you is better informed about the pro's and con's inside product. It's like signing an "informed consent" form: you will most likely not totally most notably the idea but at least you complete a purchase having more and better information than when you started your explore. Unlike Black Friday, along with that is the next day Thanksgiving when many Americans head towards the mall for considered the start of holiday shopping season, Cyber Monday shoppers remain at home while seeking for probably the most online shopping discount. After Cyber Monday, the other big shopping day in order to for doesn't yet possess a name. It's found planet middle of December, but doesn't possess a set date on the calendar. Buy the last day most retailers guarantees shipping of time for Christmas and several find what some are calling explored cyber shopping day for this holidays. No more will you need to to wait to be waited always on! Going through racks of clothing or items individually to choose the right capacity. No more pressure from pesky salespeople who simply need to earn a commission and don't really care what choice or be in that cute little skirt. Internet alleviates the stress and stress of in order to deal with pushy salespeople, waiting in long lines or muscling your way through crowd in the mall. The internet may thought of a simple solution for lots of things. But it is quite a dangerous program. There are plenty of people who have gone bankrupt because of the theft within their social security number. There are so many cyber crimes happening every day. Internet cannot be eradicated as you move the pros weigh more than the cons. But one can be extremely careful and avoid many mishaps by being precautious. But all these items can be prevented by being old school and see the mall and the store. There is no bigger fun than searching. You can save a lot of jobs in future and brain yourself safe from cyber thiefs.

#designer bags

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nothorses · 2 years

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You weren't fuckin kidding man. Someone saw that ask I sent you about how people assume I'm culturally Christian because I'm white and live in the US and they decided that actually I'm a stupid idiot who had "an explicitly Christian upbringing" and is just too dumb to realize that I'm part of the "oppressor class." It's not that I didn't believe you when you said how bad it was, I had just never personally experienced it before because I don't talk about religion except on very rare occasions. But these people are fucking unhinged!! Apparently the bar for being culturally Christian is as low as "has interacted with or been affected by Christianity at some point." This shit is wild!

Now I feel like I have to avoid anything that might be taken and misconstrued as me being "culturally Christian." Like I feel like I can't say omg anymore because it has "god" in it.

Oh yeah, it is absolutely wild lmao.

I think there are two pretty dominant ways of looking at cultural christianity right now:

You either Are A Cultural Christian or you are not, or;

Cultural Christianity is something that impacts an entire society, and that anyone within it can express.

Under the first one, they have to actually define who is culturally Christian, and what the bar for that is; which means we get different conflicting models of how to decide who Counts as a cultural Christian. So then we get "you're culturally Christian if you..."

Are a Christian

Were at any point a Christian

Were raised by Christian family

Live in a Christian-dominated society and were not raised under any other (non-Christian) religion

Live in a Christian-dominated society but "come from a Christian background"

Live in a Christian-dominated society but are not religious

Participate in any aspect of Christianity, even in a non-religious sense.

Or some combination thereof.

Each of which kind of falls short of capturing the full picture or being much of a useful term. Obviously Christians are Christian; we don't really need another term for that. But ex-Christians can convert, can't they? So is it just ex-Christian atheists, or are, for example, Jewish converts "still culturally Christian"? So can people who were raised by Christian family; again, does this only apply to atheists? What kind of atheists does it actually apply to?

And the last groups consists of a huge variety of people: again, atheists can raise atheists or have been raised by atheists, often going back multiple generations (I'm part of the third generation of atheists in my family- on both sides).

Is the deciding factor here whiteness? I absolutely agree that white people are more likely to be hostile toward other cultures and the religions generally associated with them; but that's not because white people are Christian (Black Americans, for example, have a long, complicated history with Christianity; from forced conversion to a modern unique relationship with their own Christian beliefs and practices, all of which should be defined by them). That is, imo, an extension of racism & white supremacy- which is itself very tied into Christianity.

And as for people who participate in Christianity- what about cultural conversion/erasure? What about mixed religion families; half-Jewish and half-Christian families that celebrate both sets of holidays, for example? What about people who "celebrate" only because family does? What about people who are forced by their families, or others, to participate?

Again, is "cultural Christianity" just something that applies to atheists? And if so, why?

Either we need a perfect definition and delineation that can adequately, respectfully categorize everyone from every complex experience and background and acknowledge that people change categories entirely, often by their own choice; or our entire culture is influenced by Christianity, in which case anyone can theoretically be influenced by it regardless of background, and atheists are not "more Christian" than anyone else by default.

It needs to be a broad and fluid umbrella, or we need a different one entirely.

I've seen @cleverthylacine suggest that we should talk about it like "passing", which I can honestly get behind; people who "pass" as Christian aren't necessarily gaining privilege, but depending on how congruent that external perception is with their internal reality, it can be a much smoother experience than those who are openly antagonistic, or inherently oppositional to Christianity are.

i.e. a Jewish person who asks for their holidays off is not passing, and is challenging Christianity in a way that is going to lead to experiences of antisemitism, specifically.

An atheist who celebrates Jewish holidays and asks for them off from work will likely experience some, or all, of the same.

An atheist who happily celebrates Christian holidays isn't going to face much hardship at all- or likely even notice that they'd be subject to opposition if they didn't.

An atheist who quietly avoids celebrating Christian holidays is going to have some internal struggles and awkward, uncomfortable interactions with Christians who want them to do otherwise.

An atheist who openly, vocally resists celebrating Christian holidays- and even goes as far as to advocate against their workplace holding celebrations for them- is going to face a lot of open opposition and bigotry from Christians in their workplace.

It's based more on action, personal relationship to the religion, and individual choices/situations/experiences, and avoids treating the "passing" experience as if it's inherently a privilege- or inherent to a specific group. And it allows a lot of room for those conversations around who exactly is Presumed Christian (white people, mostly), what that means, without assuming everyone from a certain category is going to have the exact same experience forever.

#religion

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apolsidar · 3 years

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Okay but hear me out:

Muslims at Hogwarts *

The Muslim student having to explain why they need a prayer break during class, yes, even during Snape’s class.

Explaining halal/haram food to Dumbledore and getting the kitchen HFA approved so they can have halal meals.

Petitioning for a day off on both Eids (Muslims holidays)

Complaining about having to fast Ramadan during finals week

Having a bidet or lota/water jug in the bathrooms and confusing everyone

Having a musallah (prayer room) where all the Muslims from different houses pray

Rival houses having to deal with standing in a straight line, toe to toe, shoulders to shoulder, together at every prayer they do together

Oh yeah, that unnecessarily expensive chandelier? One of the Slytherins donated it.

The musallah bookshelf is made up of Islamic books written by Ravenclaw alumni

Gryffindors physically picking up an inhuman amount of chairs to put away after an event instead of wingardium leviosAing them away

Hufflepuffs handing out dates and water every Friday

Slytherins arguing over how board members should be elected

Hufflepuffs trying to calm everyone down and saying that an election is the best way

Ravenclaws lowkey running stuff behind the scenes anyways

Gryffindors/Hufflepuffs inviting their non Muslim friends to Friday jumuah (gatherings)

Okay, but we all agree the khateeb (sermon speaker) is almost always a Ravenclaw, right?

Sub-theories

If the HFA (Halal Food Authority, which is the British equivalent of the American ISA that certifies restaurants etc to serve halal food) knows about Hogwarts does that mean there are muggles in on it?

We would need Islamic scholars, Muftis, Imams, etc. Given that this imaginary world has had wizards for centuries, that would mean we have scholarly lineage/ traditions that go far back, meaning we would have authentic knowledge and sources. Or would we have muggle scholars who are in on it?

Or would there be a wizarding school for Muslim? It would probably exist where you would have to learn the fiqh of wizardry as opposed to black magic etc.

* Keep in mind that I’m taking creative liberty here and considering all this within the realms of a world where good “magic” ACTUALLY exists. Islamically it doesn’t actually, and I am well aware of that. In real life I do not condone black magic in any way shape or form. of course I am considering this all within the imaginary realm of a world where good “magic” does exist. I know that in Islam black magic is forbidden, and I do not condone it in any way, shape, or form. This is purely theoretical. In the wizarding world, you are born with your magical abilities, and not using them would be physically harmful.

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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

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Holiday Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, but I got carried away. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but I wanted to post some Christmassy stuff in between now and Deck the Halls, so here’s a little something. It’s basically over a thousand words of Harry pining for some girl he just met. That seems to be my favorite trope, yeah? Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I hope that you all remember that Christmas isn’t about what you have or what you’re able to give, it’s about spending time with the people you love the most. I’m always here for you all if you need me and I love you loads. Thank you!

Word Count: 5.1K+

Warnings: A little smut, pining, flash forward, ofc

Prompt: “You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not” | Taken from this post here!

It wasn’t that Harry hated Christmas.

He loved spending time with his family, drinking mulled wine and talking shit with his Mum and Sister on the couch until the morning light. He loved the Christmas cookies that everyone seemed to bake just for him. Every single one of his friends would wrap them up in cute, candy cane striped cellophane bags with a little bow as if they were worried he’d been deprived of sweets. He loved the warmth that enveloped him when he stepped into any building, dodging the cold winter winds and brutal snowflakes that hit his skin. He loved most things about the season, but he truthfully hated the actual holiday itself.

He hated the music, each song covered by about twenty different artists, (yet, they always sounded the same, somehow), playing on a loop on every single Christmas station. He hated how rude people were in the shops and on the road, as if their time was more important than anyone else's. He hated the stigma around giving expensive gifts, stressing over the perfect thing to get each of his friends. If he could, he’d give them all something homemade, but he was shit at doing anything crafty.

His boots crunched against the snow as he walked towards his mother’s front door.

He let himself in, kicking his shoes off before he removed his scarf and his winter coat. He could hear laughter from the kitchen, Gemma and his Mum giggling far too loud. They must have cracked into the mulled cider a little early, and truthfully, he was jealous. He’d spent the last four hours stuck in traffic listening to white Christmas over and over and over again. He shut the front door as Evie wrapped herself around his legs, her soft purring catching his attention as he glanced down at the black and white kitten.

“Hiya, darling girl.” He crouched down, scooping her into his arms before he delivered a series of kisses over her head. “Daddy’s missed you, eh. Have you been good for your nan?”

She meowed in response, causing Harry to coo at her before he scratched under her chin.

“That’s my girl.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head before setting her back to the ground.

He knew they would indulge in several cuddle sessions over the next few days, so he wasn’t worried about missing his one and only pet this holiday season. He walked through the house, finding his way into the kitchen where Gemma was tipping back a glass of dark red liquid, and his Mum was rolling out cookie dough with a bright smile on her face. What Harry wasn’t expecting, was the curly haired girl with a cookie cutter in her hand next to his Mum.

“Hello!” He called out, offering a smile as he walked over to the kitchen island. “I see we’ve started having fun already.”

“It took you forever to get here!” Gemma said defensively, picking up a chocolate kiss before tossing it at Harry. “Do you want a drink?”

“Something hot, it’s like the bloody tundra outside.” He shivered at the thought of the harsh wind, his eyes trailing back towards the new girl.

“Stella makes the best peppermint hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your life.” Gemma groaned out, her eyes rolling back in her head. “She puts peppermint vodka in there.”

“I can make you one if you’d like?” Stella’s voice was soft and painfully american. “We’ve got a slow cooker full of hot chocolate.”

“If you don’t mind.” Harry gave her a smile as he pulled out a stool, sitting next to Gemma. “Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“She knows who you are.” Gemma reached over, pinching Harry’s side. “Stella is a new transfer at work. She’s new to England, and we thought we’d show her a proper English Christmas.”

“Stella, love, you should probably find another family to spend Christmas with if you want a proper English Christmas.” Harry snorted. “Ours is half arsed at best.”

“We have a lovely Christmas, thank you.” Anne piped up, flicking flour in Harry’s direction as Stella laughed softly. “Don’t scare the poor thing off, we’ve just made her feel at home.”

Stella turned her back, walking towards the stove.

“I suppose we do have a good time.” Harry hummed out. “I can’t wait to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the millionth time.”

“They’ve got an animated one now!” Gemma exclaimed. “We’re going to do a double feature.”

“Lovely.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate laced was placed in front of Harry.

He looked down at the grinch mug before looking back up at Stella.

“Thanks.” He offered her a smile, but she merely nodded back at him before taking her place next to Anne again.

He watched her, sipping at his drink as Gemma and Anne chatted about some Hallmark movie that was meant to premiere at some point during the week. She wasn’t normally the type of girl that he dated, but he had to admit that she was beautiful. Her cheeks were round, a soft blush smeared over them that he assumed came from a makeup product. Her lashes were thick, and long, shadowing her hazel colored eyes. She had thick brows that seemed a little unruly, and plump lips stained with a plum colored lipstick that matched her smoky, purple eyeshadow. He wasn’t a huge fan of the plum color, but he had to admit that it brought out a lot of the warmer tones in her eyes and in her beautiful, brown skin. He also thought that it complimented the lighter strands in her curly brown hair that bounced about everytime she turned her head.

He tried not to be too obvious with his curious gaze, but he couldn’t help it. He was almost mesmerized by her beauty, but he was more so confused by his attraction to her. She was far too quiet for his taste, her eyes cast down on the cookies she’d been cutting out for the last few minutes while everyone else chatted.

He watched her place them on the tray carefully, obsessing over how they landed before she reached for the colored icing. He watched her pipe onto the little shapes, her tongue nestling in the corner of her mouth as her unsteady hands worked diligently on the cookies.

This was a Styles family Christmas, and the Styles were a rowdy and messy bunch. He’d never seen his Mum or Gemma put that much work into sugar cookies before, and it was almost painful to watch her perfect each and every one before she slipped the tray in the oven. He watched her reach for the cheeky little chicken shaped oven timer that Gemma bought when his Mum fist moved into this house. In all of those years, he’d never seen anyone actually use it.

“Did you hear me, my little turtle dove?” Anne brushed her hand over Harry’s back as he sipped at his cocoa. “They’re calling for a huge storm this weekend, are you packed for that?”

“I left some stuff here the last time I was around.” He turned his head, smiling back at her. “I think I should be fine if I get stuck with you lot.”

“Good.” She nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Mumma.” He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her into a hug.

The warm scent of vanilla and musk greeted his senses, flooding him with comfort and nostalgic memories of cuddling with Mum on the couch. He missed having her around him. He missed having his best friend around to comfort him when he needed it the most. When he let go of her, his heart sank a little in his chest. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before moving back to work on more cookie dough.

“Why are you making so many cookies?” He asked, brows furrowing as he brushed his fingers over the sickly green mug with the cartoon characters face on it. “Do you plan on feeding an army?”

“No, but Stella suggested that we take some down to the local homeless shelter on Christmas Eve.” Anne smiled over at the girl. “That’s her family's Christmas tradition, and since she’s not with them this year, we thought we’d make it happen for her here.”

“Thank you again, for agreeing to this.” Stella smiled at Anne. “It really means the world to me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re a part of the family now, dear.” Anne teased. “Even if you’re not spending Christmas with us, this little tradition of yours has been officially integrated into our own Christmas tradition. We’ll always have a little bit of Stella with us during the Holiday’s now, eh.”

Stella laughed at that, reaching her arms out to wrap Anne in a hug.

Harry almost felt a little jealous at how seamlessly she fit in here.

“If you keep staring at her, she’s gonna want to run back to America.” Gemma nudged her elbow into his side. “We get it, she’s hotter than you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes at Gemma as she smirked. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Okay, Casanova.” She snorted. “Whatever you say.

Harry wasn’t sure why he was hard.

He just wanted to close his eyes and go the fuck to sleep.

After a long day of travel, and an even longer evening filled with Harry pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic, he just wanted to sleep. He wasn’t looking forward to taking the annual trip to the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow. Since Robin passed, Harry was the only man in the family, which meant that he often had to do the heavy lifting. He found that most of his strength lay in his core, despite the amount of lifting he’d done to buff up his arms, and he wasn’t looking forward to tossing a tree on top of his car while everyone watched.

Truthfully, that was the worry that should have been plaguing his mind as he lay in bed. Instead, his mind was lost in hazel colored waves that crashed on dark plum shores. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stella’s eyes or her perfectly shaped lips. He spent most of his night watching her drink from a wine glass, her cheeks turning a shade darker with each joke that she shared with his family. If there was one thing that he was shocked about, it was the dry humor that tumbled from her perfect plum colored lips. She was a funny girl, despite being quiet, and he laughed at every single joke she told without shame.

As he shifted his about, trying to avoid any further thoughts about her lips, the tip of his cock brushed against the warm flannel of his pajama pants. He let out a throaty groan, reaching down to push his palm into the crotch of his pants to soothe the pressure building in his lower belly. He couldn’t jack off to the thought of Gemma’s new friend, it would be awful, and it would surely land him on the naughty list. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to picture her lipstick staining his lower belly, his upper thighs, and eventually...the shaft of his cock. But after a few minutes of trying not to think about it, that was the only thing he could see behind closed eyes.

With an annoyed grumble, he dipped his hand into his pajama pants, tugging his cock out while his free hand pushed the band of the pants down his hips. He licked over his dry lips, making a mental note to buy some chapstick tomorrow as he gave himself one, swift stroke. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to moan as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. He was pathetic, dripping down his cock over a girl that he barely knew. He couldn’t believe that he was being that guy right now, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of a beautiful girl on her knees for him. He wanted so badly to have her there, whispering filthy words in that gentle tone she had, encouraging him to cum on her tongue.

When he did cum, her name spilled from his lips.

His chest was heaving as he came down, the tinkling of Stella’s laughter filling his ears.

Seconds later, he heard her bid goodnight to Gemma before the door next to his own shut.

He was totally fucked for this girl.

The next morning, he didn’t expect to see Stella sitting at the breakfast bar when he came downstairs.

He stopped in the doorway, his cheeks growing warm as he looked over her sweater covered back. Thoughts of her name tumbling from his lips last night flooded back as he looked at her. She was wearing a lavender colored, cable knit sweater, and her curls were tied up in a messy ponytail on top of her head. Most of the curls had fallen out, covering up some of her neck alongside her fingers. Her cheek was propped on her palm, her gaze focused on her laptop as she lifted a mug of steaming liquid up to her mouth with her other hand.

Harry cleared his throat, walking toward the stove so he could put the kettle on. No one else in the house would be up for hours, but Harry couldn’t turn off his internal alarm clock no matter how he tried. He also hoped that he might find a moment of peace from the very girl sitting in his Mother’s kitchen. She haunted his dreams, her face playing on the silver screen in his mind all night long. He hated how infatuated he was with this woman that he barely even knew.

“Morning.” She spoke up first, her voice scratchy and tired. “Did you sleep well?”

“Splendid, yeah.” He nodded, filling the kettle with water. “You?”

“I’ve slept better, but that’s to be expected.” She said softly. “I spent a little bit of time on a skype call with my brother’s, so I was up longer than expected.”

“But you’re up fairly early this morning, aren’t you?” He put the kettle on the stovetop before turning around, his eyes landing on hers. “Why’s that?”

“I wake up this early anyways.” She smiled at him. “I usually like to go for a walk in the morning to wake myself up.”

“That’s nice.” He lifted his hand, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “I usually like to go for a swim or a run in the morning, too.”

“Where do you swim?” She asked.

“There’s a men’s swimming club not too far from my home in London.” He said. “It’s freezing cold, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Jeeze, you swim outside in this weather?” She lifted her head from her palm, her eyes growing wide. “I could never.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” He chuckled softly. “What are you working on?”

“A new piece for my blog.” She said. “I started out using it as a diary of sorts, but people apparently love reading about the disaster that is my life.”

“I’m sure it’s not all horrible.” He hoped that he sounded encouraging and not rude. “You seem like a lovely, and positive person.”

“I try to be.” She shrugged, reaching for her mug. “I could say the same about you.”

“I try to be.” He smiled at her. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Oh, I was actually thinking of popping down to this little bakery Gemma told me about-”

“Mandeville’s.” His heart picked up, a smile stretching across his lips. “Had my first job there.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She laughed, wrapping both hands around her mug as she leaned back in the barstool. “I figured I’d go grab some pastries for everyone. I know it’s kind of a busy day with the Christmas Tree Farm, so I thought it would be best if your Mum didn’t feel the need to cook.”

“She would love that.” Harry said. “Maybe I could go with you? We could both get our walks in, and I can see Mary before she hunts me down and drags me to the bakery.”

“I would love the company.” She smiled. “But enjoy your tea first, I’ll just be working on this until we’re ready to go.”

“Cheers.” He nodded, watching her eyes drop to her computer screen.

She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup this morning, and Harry almost wished that she was.

He wished that she had covered up her beautiful, freckle covered skin so that he didn’t fall harder for her beautiful face. He wished that she was hiding away those little blemishes that made him swoon, because she was actually a human after all, not some angel sent down from heaven to torture him. He wished that she covered those beautiful lips in that plum lipstick again so that he could imagine kissing it off of her. He hated the feeling stirring inside of his belly, the butterflies a tell tale sign of his feelings.

He had a crush on Stella.

And there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling for her.

Stella’s gloves were precious.

They were a bright red, little snowflakes and reindeer stitched into them.

She offered to let Harry borrow a pair of her gloves, claiming that she’d brought plenty of pairs for the winter, but he politely declined before shoving his hands in his pockets. She looked so cozy, wrapped up in her winter coat with a beanie on top of her head and a matching scarf tied around her neck. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and cuddle her so that they could both stay nice and toasty on their walk. He wanted to kiss her bare cheeks, paying special attention to each freckle on her skin as the winter sun cast over them.

He was so infatuated with her that it was almost embarrassing.

“I can’t even imagine what it was like, growing up in a place like this.” Stella turned her head towards Harry, the tip of her nose a little red. “It’s so picturesque.”

“It’s alright.” He gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to get out when I was a kid.”

“Of course you did, we all do.” She chuckled. “I think everyone should run away for a little while, it really gives you all of the tools you need to really appreciate your hometown when you go back. I don’t know that I’ll ever move back to my hometown, but when I visit it, I feel a little bit more appreciative of the pivotal role it had in raising me.”

“I feel the same way about Cheshire.” Harry nodded. “It’s a big part of who I was, and that helped make me who I am. I wouldn’t be the same without this place.”

“Exactly.” She said.

“So where exactly are you from?” He asked. “I mean, obviously America-”

“Is it that obvious?” She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully, her lips pursed. “I don’t think it is.”

“It’s a neon, flashing sign above your head kind of obvious, love.” He snorted. “But I can’t place what your accent is.”

“It’s not really an accent.” Stella shrugged, turning her attention back to the sidewalk. “I grew up on the road for most of my life, but my family settled in Georgia when I was about twelve.”

“Interesting.” He said. “How did you like Georgia?”

“I didn’t, at first.” She laughed. “I hated it so much. I loved being on the road with my family, traveling places like Hawaii and Los Angeles. When we moved to the south, I despised everything about it. It was so plain and boring compared to places we’d lived before. But like I said, moving away has made me learn to love it more when I go back.”

“How long have you been gone?” He asked.

“About three years.” She said. “I lived in Amsterdam for a year, and then Paris, and now I’m here.”

“Which place is your favorite?” He asked. “Be honest with me, now. You don’t have to say London just because you’re trying to get on my good side.”

Stella tossed her head back, laughing loudly.

“I think it’s truthfully London, Harry.”

His name sounded like honey falling from her lips.

“Why is that?” He asked.

“Because I’ve found my chosen family.” She turned back, giving him a smile that thawed out the chill creeping up from his toes. “Starting with Gemma, of course. She was the first person to take me under her wings, and I’m so happy that I have her in my life. Then I started to find other people, and we all became this really close knit group of friends that felt more like family than my actual family does. I don’t know how I’ll ever leave this place.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He said softly. “Maybe this is home.”

Please don’t go, Stella.

Stay here with me forever.

Love me.

“My contract is up at the end of the year, but we’ll just have to see how things go.” She said. “I might be convinced to stay.”

“Well, I guess I have a lot of work to do.” He chuckled.

“Why are you so keen on me staying?” She asked him, her brows raising as she gave him a knowing smirk. “Do you have a crush on me, Styles?”

His cheeks grew hot against the cold wind.

“Alright now, don’t let that go to your head.” He grumbled, tucking his neck into his scarf as Stella’s smile grew wider. “It’s all your bloody fault, you know?”

“What have I done?” She laughed louder. “I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly it.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re you, Stella.”

The Christmas Tree Farm was going well.

That was up until Gemma decided that they absolutely needed to take a family picture in front of the big Christmas tree, Stella included. They had picked up a few little trinkets and such while walking around the market included in the farm. Anne picked up a reindeer headband with bells stitched in, plopping it on her head the second she found it. Gemma found an elf’s hat with little ears attached to the side, putting it on her hair before fussing with her hair. Stella found a crown made of poinsettias that she plopped on top of her curls, the red and gold working perfectly with her red lipstick and gold eyeshadow. Harry, however, wasn’t exactly in the spirit.

“You’re wearing the bloody santa hat, whether you like it or not!” Gemma shoved it towards him with a frown. “If you stand next to Stella, you’ll like Mr. and Mrs. Claus!”

“Shut up, Gemma.” Harry sneered, snatching the hat from her hands. “I didn’t tell you about that so you could throw it in my face!”

“Well, I’m doing it for the greater good of our family photo!” She glared at him. “Put that hat on before I shove it on your head myself.”

“Fine.”

“Are you two alright?” Stella smirked, adjusting her crown on her head as she walked up to Harry and Gemma. “Santa is still putting people on the naughty list you know?”

“If anyone’s going to be on the naughty list, it’s Harry.” Gemma tossed her arm around Stella’s shoulder with a proud smirk. “He’s being a pain in the arse.”

“Is the hat really necessary to the photo?” He groaned, dropping his head back.

“Yes.” Stella and Gemma said at the same time.

“Alright, alright.” He groaned, tugging the hat over his curls. “Are you both happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Stella smiled brightly at Harry. “I think you look handsome.”

“I’m going to just point out…” Gemma pulled her arm from around Stella, tucking her hands behind her back. “That there’s mistletoe hanging from that piece of wood above your heads.”

“Gemma-” Harry’s eyes grew wide.

“And I’m promptly going to walk away.” She smiled at Stella. “Meet us at the tree in ten minutes.”

“Gemma-” Stella held her hand out as Gemma walked away, her eyes growing just as wide as Harry’s were. “What a sneaky little elf.”

“Tell me about it.” Harry shifted, adjusting the hat on his head. “Devious little-”

“Well, I guess we can’t break tradition.” Stella looked up at Harry, shuffling forward slowly with a little smirk on her lips. “I mean, what would Santa say if we didn’t kiss under the mistletoe?”

Harry licked over his bottom lip, his fingers twitching.

“You really want to kiss me?”

“I might.” Stella’s toes were almost touching Harry’s now. “But the question is, do you want to kiss me?”

“I do, yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I laid eyes on you, Stella.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She raised her brows. “Now is your chance, Mr. Grinch, lay one on me.”

Harry lifted his hands, pressing them to Stella’s face hesitantly before he lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It was a gentle peck, one that anyone would share underneath the mistletoe, but Harry wanted more from Stella. It seemed that she wanted more as well, her arms sliding around his neck as she pressed up on her toes. He let his hands fall to her waist as the kiss grew more intense, his hands holding onto her tightly as she brushed her tongue over his lower lip. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, letting her have what she wanted by parting his lips. When her tongue slipped over his, he let out a tiny moan, gripping her hips tighter.

“Get a room, you two!” Harry groaned, pressing his forehead to Stella’s.

“Gemma, I swear to god-” Harry turned his head, whipping his santa hat off before he threw it in her direction. “Go bother someone else!”

Stella laughed, ducking her forehead down to Harry’s chest as he rubbed his thumbs over her side gently. He felt her body shaking underneath his hands, his heart hammering in his chest when he realized just how close they actually were. He turned his head back, lifting a hand up to guide Stella’s chin up. He pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three more times before she pressed her palms to Harry’s chest.

“We’ll never stop if we don’t move away from the mistletoe.” Stella whispered. “And I think Gemma might physically pull us apart if we miss that Christmas picture.”

“Let it be known that I’m only partaking in this picture because I want to stand next to you for as long as I can.” Harry smiled. “I think I have a little more than a crush on you, Stella.”

“I think I have more than a crush on you, too.”

“Madeline, stop right there.” Stella let out a frustrated sigh as she looped her arm under the baby carrier, her eyes falling down to the sleeping infant. “Milo, promise Mumma that you’ll listen when you get to that age?”

“Give him here.” Harry brushed a kiss over Stella’s temple, his hand massaging her lower back gently. “You go catch up with speed racer, okay? I’ll be right behind you with the baby and the diaper bag.”

“Thank you.” Stella turned her head, puckering her lips out. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He hummed out. “And our beautiful babies, even if one of them has a death wish and two left feet.”

Stella snorted out a laugh, pulling her arm from the carrier before she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I better go help her up the stairs.”

“Please, we don’t need a repeat of last year.” Harry smiled.

“Yeah, I would like to avoid a trip to A&E this year.” Stella snorted.

He watched Stella walk over to an antsy Madeline, her pigtails bouncing about as she jumped from foot to foot in excitement. Harry chuckled softly at his daughter, amused by her excitement. He was happy that she found so much joy in Christmas, just like her Mother did. He watched Stella hold a hand out, waiting for Madeline to take it before they both conquered the brick steps outside of his Mum’s house. When they got to the top, Stella lifted Madeline up, kissing over her cheeks as their daughter giggled. Harry lifted Milo’s car seat from the base, his eyes falling down to the six month old with hazel eyes and soft cheeks just like his Mother’s.

“We’ve got our hands full with those two, mate.” Harry pulled the soft, wintery blue blanket up to Milo’s chin, tucking it around his shoulders so that he would stay warm. “Gonna keep us both on our toes, I know it.”

Milo cooed up at him, causing Harry to smile wider before he ducked his head down to kiss his son's soft cheeks.

“Let’s get you into Nan’s before you turn into a popsicle, my love.” Harry said. “Mumma won’t be happy if we have to spend Christmas thawing you out.”

As Harry made his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but remember five Christmases ago.

He was walking up the exact same steps on his own, unaware of the magic that was waiting inside for him. He was unaware that the girl Gemma brought home for Christmas would one day be his wife, and the mother of his two beautiful children. He had no idea that they would spend long nights together, planning their future and holding each other tight. He opened the front door to his Mum’s house, smiling at the sound of Madeline telling his Mother a story with animated gestures, her curly pigtails bouncing around as Stella tried to wrangle her jacket off.

“And then Daddy told me we could get a puppy next year if I was good enough!” Madeline squealed out as Harry shut the door.

He dodged the steely gaze he got from Stella after she heard the word puppy.

“Sorry.” He mouthed over at her, causing her to shake her head as she tried to fight off a smile.

“You’re a menace.” She mouthed back. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said it outloud, his heart soaring in his chest.

Stella gave him a heart warming smile, Madeline’s coat still in her hands.

Seconds later, Milo let out a tiny cry causing Harry to snap back into dad mode.

He rested the carseat on the ground, carefully pulling his son out before pressing a kiss to his chubby little cheeks. As if Gemma could sense his presence, she barreled into the living room with her eyes set on Milo.

“There’s my little man.” She held her hands out, wiggling them as Harry rolled his eyes. “You get to see him every day, Harry. Pass him over to his auntie.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Please be careful with him, I kind of like this one.”

“Piss off.” Gemma snorted out, sliding Milo onto her hip before pressing a bright red kiss mark into his forehead. “Has Daddy told you that without auntie Gem, you wouldn’t exist?”

“Gemma-”

“Can you believe that?” She looked up at Harry, a hint of something nostalgic and genuine sparkling in her green eyes. “If I’d never brought Stella to family Christmas, we wouldn’t have two beautiful babies to dote over every year.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without them.” He whispered. “Thank you, Gemma.”

“Harry, I really didn’t-”

“Gemma.” He said her name sternly, pressing his palm to her bicep. “Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She said softly, her eyes watering. “Now, if you could do me a favor and bring a hot friend around, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.” He let out a wet chuckle, his own eyes watering.

“What are we managing?” Stella wrapped her arms around Harry.

“We owe Gem a favor.” He sniffled, turning head to press a kiss to Stella’s forehead.

“Why are you crying, baby?” Stella frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” He pressed his lips to hers, softly brushing his nose against the tip of hers as his. “Just so incredibly grateful to have you in my life, that’s all.”

“You’re so sappy around the holiday’s.” Stella brushed her palm over his belly. “I love you, Mr. Styles.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Styles.” He said. “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#not edited #as per usual #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry fic #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry styles X ofc #harry styles christmas fic #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry styles christmas blurb

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thatesqcrush · 3 years

Note

Why are some people deluded to think Sonny would ever want to be with a black woman over the sexy, blonde, queen Amanda? It is sad, pathetic, and embarrassing. Black women are not attractive. As a white woman I know you agree, especially when they lust after Rafael and Nick. YUCK!

I debated just deleting this and just making a post in response. But I have decided that all of my followers need to see the most disgusting, vile, racist anon that I received.

Gotta hide that racism under the anon tag! Oh anon, you’re a racist piece of shit. BRB, let me go get your white hood & cloak for you.

You are pathetic, sad and embarrassing. Please unfollow me stat. I don’t want you on my page. And if anyone who follows me agrees with this anon, you can unfollow me too.

There are a few points I also want to make:

1) National Loving Day was a week ago. Every June 12, we honor the United States Supreme Court’s 1967 decision to strike down laws in several states that banned interracial marriage. The decision was sparked by Loving v. Virginia, a court case involving Richard and Mildred Loving, an interracial couple from Virginia who married in 1958.

Sonny can ABSOLUTELY be with a black woman. Or a black man. Or any person regardless of race, gender, sexuality, etc. And I firmly believe this for anyone and everyone in the whole wide world. Love is love.

The fact that they didn’t make it clear that they broke up, so it looks like Sonny cheated. But this is a topic for another day.

2) Of all days to come into my inbox with this!! It’s Juneteenth. ITS JUNETEENTH!!! For those who don’t know, Juneteenth is a federal holiday in the United States commemorating emancipation of enslaved African Americans. It is also often observed for celebrating African American culture. Originating in Galveston, Texas, it has been celebrated annually on June 19 in various parts of the United States since 1866.

3) You attest that as a white woman, you know I agree. If you did know me, you would know that this is actually farthest from the truth. I am Latina. My bio says it. Right there on the front page. So you can’t deny you did not see it. While I may be a white passing Latina, my family comes in all colors. Do yourself a favor and look up the history of Puerto Rico. You do not speak for me. Not sorry.

Rafael and Nick, are both Cuban (Raúl & Danny IRL & as characters. Which means they too are POC. So it’s okay for people to lust after them but not for them to think Sonny wouldn’t be with a black woman? Like what kind of fucking ass backwards logic is this?

TLDR; you’re a racist, anon. Yuck.

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brockadoodles · 3 years

Text

Gumbo, Football Sundays, and Christmas - q. hughes

AN: this was totally named something else before, but honestly I like this name better. So here’s holiday Quinn floof to celebrate the return of my main squeeze, the quinn to my brock, the oh so wonderful, @pettypetey If any of you are mean to her, its on sight, ily kyn <3

Word Count: 3759

Warnings: None :)

You carefully walked over to the couch where Quinn was sitting on his phone with two hot bowls in your hand. You cleared your throat to grab his attention, handing him the steaming bowl of your favorite homemade potato soup, something that his trainer would absolutely kill him for eating, yet he did anyway because you made it and he openly admitted that it was one of his favorite things. Quinn couldn’t cook to save his life, something that you had attempted to remedy when you became friends and found out that he got most of his meals from the rink or the Tanev family. But after one night where he spilled an entire pot of gumbo on your kitchen floor, you settled for doing the cooking or letting him pay for takeout whenever he came over, sparing your poor floor from another huge mess and your own sanity over wasting that much time on food only to not be able to eat it.

You sat down on the couch next to him, your thigh pressed up against him due to the nature of how small your old Ikea couch was. You set your bowl down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, scrolling through the various options on TV until you spotted a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies listed on the Hallmark channel.

“I’m absolutely not watching a Christmas movie with you, it’s not even thanksgiving yet,” Quinn frowned as you moved through the various options on the tv, each movie title becoming a worse holiday-related pun as you scrolled further into the depths of the Hallmark channel.

You glared at him and for a moment you contemplated why you were even such good friends with someone who clearly had no sense of what Christmas joy really meant. Obviously, you knew that he didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you also knew that he knew how much comfort these movies brought you. You used to spend hours watching them in November and December with your dad as a child, and when you moved to Vancouver, that quickly became one of the things you could do that reminded you of home.

“Quinn I will absolutely kick you out of my apartment,” you warned, queuing up one of the movies whose premise was likely about some small-town person who needed to save their business and the way that happens was through a Christmas miracle. It didn’t matter how similar or terribly low quality these movies were, you loved them and happily watched them consistently as early as September each year. Quinn should have considered himself lucky that you waited until November before putting one on with him there.

“You would never,” he smirked at you, wrapping an arm swiftly around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Quinn was always affectionate with you, something that you had found yourself readily falling into. You would never admit it to him but Quinn was your favorite person, and as the months had progressed his affections have sparked daydreams in your head of what it would be like if he took it one step farther with you.

The two of you sat in silence next to each other as the opening credits of the movie began to play as you enjoyed the warm soup. It was what you considered the perfect November evening, your favorite movies, your favorite meal, and your favorite person all in one sitting as the rain fell outside of your apartment.

You pulled the dark green throw blanket over both of your bodies as the movie continued to play, Quinn rolling his eyes and audibly groaning at the cheesy dialogue that was happening on screen.

“Shhhh, I’m trying to distract myself from you,” you whacked him in the chest, feeling his body vibrate softly as he laughed at you. He grabbed your hand, focusing on playing with your fingers lightly, sometimes threading his own through them. His actions were causing a flutter in your stomach and a blush to rise on your cheeks each time he held your hand in his, and the movie was offering no distraction from him.

Quinn was a constant for you, a presence that was always there whether that meant in your mind and heart as you thought of him, or physically there on your couch watching Christmas movies with you just because you asked. He had been your friend since he started playing in Vancouver, the two of you frequently running into each other at a hole in the wall Chinese place near your apartment. Somehow the chance run-ins had become Sunday nights in his apartment where he always had your favorite fried rice and football queued up for you provided he didn’t have a game of his own.

Quinn fussed around with your fingers and hand for the entirety of the movie, if someone were to ask him to summarize anything that had occurred over the last two hours that you were nestled into his chest, he simply couldn’t do it. He couldn’t focus on the movie, or the white noise of cars passing by outside and the rain steadily pouring down, all he could focus on was your hands and your breathing as you watched the movie. Quinn hadn’t admitted it to anyone, probably not even fully to himself yet just how attached he was to you. You were his favorite person, by far. His quiet demeanor never seemed to bother you, and you had the ability to calm him down yet challenge him when he needed it. You never made him feel like he was Quinn Hughes of the Vancouver Canucks, instead, he felt like just Quinn with you, a feeling he only ever experienced when he was back home with his family in Michigan. It might not have been obvious to him, but everyone else knew he was as in love with you as someone could be with a person they weren’t actually with. Even his mom asked about you frequently, smiling as he would tell her whatever mundane thing about you that he had thought of that day. You were the only person he willingly let this close to him, and people noticed.

“What time is it?” You groaned, moving from his lap. Your back was slightly stiff, and you were kind of warm as you peeled the blanket from both of your bodies. The tv was turned off, and the sky outside was pitch black. Quinn slowly opened his eyes, a soft and sleepy smile on his face as he pulled you back into his chest.

“Sleep time.” He hummed. You laughed softly and pressed your hands into his chest.

“Come on, let’s go to bed, q.”

A few weeks later, after American Thanksgiving had come and gone, you found yourself surrounded at a small table with some of the other young Canucks at a holiday charity event. Quinn had practically begged you to go with him to the fundraiser, complaining that he had no idea how to decorate gingerbread houses, and if you weren’t there to help him then Brock and Petey would never let him hear the end of how ugly he ultimately would turn out. You agreed pretty quickly, rolling your eyes at his concern and reassuring him that he shouldn’t feel bad even if his was the ugliest gingerbread house of the entire group.

Quinn was entirely out of his element as the kids tossed around various candies and made a mess at the table you were all sitting at together. His eyes were wide and he was quietly focussed on his own tragic house. You watched him try to concentrate on building a roof, struggling to hold in your laughter, and Brock and Elias relentlessly teased his efforts.

“Look Quinn, mistletoe!” Quinn shot a look to Brock instantly at his words, his eyes shooting daggers into his friend as he held mistletoe up above the two of you. You sat there in shock, silently hoping that Brock would simply let this whole thing go without a fight so that you wouldn’t end up embarrassed and hurt. Unfortunately for you and him, the kids instantly jumped at the chance of forcing you to kiss, almost all of them egging it on and making kissy faces at the two of you.

Quinn swore he was going to force Brock and Petey to block 50 of his shots next practice for how they were acting. It was bad enough that the kids were hounding him to kiss you, but he didn’t need it from his friends who knew about his long harbored crush on you. You took it all in stride though, a slight blush to your cheeks that Quinn found himself melting even moreover. It also didn’t help that you were there, wearing one so his jerseys, his name on your back. He wanted to kiss you, but the last thing he wanted was for you to think that it was all the accumulation of these pesky kids bullying him into it.

Quinn tried to brush off the attempts at pushing the two of you together. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you, he did, but he wanted it to be under his own terms and a moment that was more special than at a fundraiser event with a bunch of children and Brock watching. He shook his head at Brock, mouthing for him to cut it out. Brock was having none of it though, knowing that a kiss was a long time coming between you and if Quinn wasn’t going to make the move quickly, then he was going to take advantage of the situation and attempt to get things moving between you. About every guy on the Canucks roster had about had enough of Quinn talking about how much he liked you without doing anything about it, and Brock saw the opportunity and took it.

“Pucker up kids, there’s mistletoe now. You can’t break the Christmas law that is mistletoe,” Brock smirked, hanging the mistletoe above both of your heads. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Quinn wanted to smack the not so subtle smirk off of his face.

You grabbed his arm, turning to face him with a soft smile on your face. You almost felt bad for him, sensing how uncomfortable he was at the situation, but something about the way he was carrying himself had you hoping that maybe he did want to kiss you and that had you fluttering with excitement as you leaned in. Quinn just looked at you nervously, unable to react as you quickly grabbed his face, and softly pressed his lips to yours. The kids cheering in the background, and Elias and Brock smirking at the success of their efforts. It was almost too much, but he found himself grabbing your cheek and kissing you back, his heart beating so fast and loud he was sure that you would hear it.

You smiled into the kiss, pulling back with a bright crimson shade present on your cheeks, a wide-eyed Quinn in front of you. For a moment you thought maybe you had messed everything up, maybe Quinn had absolutely no feelings for you and that’s why he was looking at you like he looked at most other people who he didn’t know. But it didn’t take Quinn long to smile and grab your hand, lacing your fingers together and going back to decorating the tragic gingerbread houses sitting in front of you, a soft smile present on his face the rest of the afternoon.

Quinn has debatably taken your ugly Christmas sweater idea a bit too seriously, so seriously in fact that you were genuinely impressed when he came to pick you up in a dark green holiday sweater, complete with a reindeer and light up antlers on his chest as you opened your front door. You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you took him in. You found it sweet that he made the extra effort, knowing that you were in a bad mood and probably just wanted to cheer you up. You wordlessly grabbed your bag and locked your door, following Quinn quietly out to his car.

The drive to Bo and Holly’s was quiet, Quinn focused on the dark roads as he drove. You watched out the window, looking at the shiny pavement that was slick with the steady rain that Vancouver knew for the majority of the winter. Things with Quinn had felt weird since you kissed him under the mistletoe, you couldn’t explain the shift because as much as you hoped the kiss would show him your feelings for him, he never brought it up. You supposed that you were partially to blame, you could have put your heart out there with him, but you also felt like you had already done that by kissing him those weeks ago, and him not saying anything only sank your heart further. So instead of dwelling on it, you tried to enjoy your time with him as usual, pushing your feelings to the side in hopes that in time they would evaporate and you would be okay just being his friend again.

You fumbled around in your bag as he parked outside of the Horvat’s house, flicking his light-up sweater on with a soft smile as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car.

“Quinn wait.” You started. You reached out and grabbed his thigh softly, pulling your hand back quickly when you realized what you were doing, your nerves bubbling up into your chest. You pulled a small wrapped box from your bag, fiddling with it in your hands as he watched you carefully. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as you handed him the present.

“Happy first day of Hanukkah.” You smiled. Quinn grinned at you in response, his heart softening at you remembering. Not that he thought you forgot, but you were after all parked outside of his captain’s house, dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, about to attend the annual Canucks Christmas party. So while he didn’t think you forgot, it meant a lot to him that you vocally remembered and thought of him enough to get a gift.

Quinn carefully unwrapped the present and shook his head as he pulled the item from its box. He ran his hand over the keychain, the New Orleans Saints logo clear as day on the charm.

“I should have known not to expect something serious.” He joked as he put the keychain on his keys, a small act that caused butterflies to rush into your stomach.

“Yeah well, your taste in football sucks so I had to remind you who you should be cheering for.” You replied, smirking slightly at him. Quinn leaned over the center console, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek so quickly that you were sure you didn’t even have time to take one breath as he pulled away. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly parted at his outward display of affection, no sign of him thinking anything of it. You gulped a bit as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. Quinn didn’t say anything, instead, he smiled and climbed out of the car, waiting patiently for you to grab the punch you made and join him on the short walk to the front of the house, the moment between you quickly passing as you headed into the party.

You walked into the home, smiling in awe at how beautiful the decorations were. Your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on the huge tree in the living room, covered with red and green ornaments and lights. The whole house smelled like fir, and it was warm and inviting as you starting noticing the various players and their families who were scattered throughout the room.

Holly led you into their kitchen to help you get the punch set up for the rest of the guests. She took the large pitcher from your hands and set it on the counter. Quinn had been pulled another direction from you and was now talking with Elias in the living room as you were in the kitchen with Holly. You were a little nervous being alone with her, having only met her a handful of times at various events that you had gone to with Quinn. But she offered you a friendly smile and the first glass, which helped your nerves settle.

“Ah, Mrs. Huggy! You’re here!” You heard from behind you, an audible gasp at the nickname escaping from your lips as Jake slid up behind you and hugged you. You quickly turned out of his grasp and shot him a glare, glancing past him in hopes that Quinn hadn’t heard his friend call you that.

“Jake! Shut up!” You whispered harshly, whacking him lightly in the chest. He just laughed at you in return, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a now smirking Holly and a tint on your cheeks that you were hoping would go away before Quinn came back to find you. You took a long sip of your drink, resigning yourself to the fact that this night was probably going to be long, and you definitely needed the liquid courage to get yourself through it.

About an hour and two drinking games later, you found yourself tipsy and less nervous around Quinn and your friends, them seemingly forgetting about your unrequited crush in favor of arguing who got to have him as their beer pong partner, something that Quinn was shockingly undefeated at.

You walked into the kitchen, bypassing Brock who was leaning against the counter, typing away on his phone. He didn’t notice you as you walked by him and over toward the drinks that were on the counter, refilling yours and taking a moment to yourself. You didn’t notice that Quinn had followed you into the room, jumping slightly when you heard his voice coming from behind you.

“Hey so remember when you kissed me?” You nearly choked on your drink, the contribution you had decided to bless the party with, a punch that only came out during the holidays, containing what you could only describe to people as 90% alcohol and a 10% chance of blacking out. You were only on your third cup, not near inebriated enough for this potential conversation with Quinn. The truth was that you of course remembered kissing him, the feeling of it had been cycling around your brain since the charity event last week, but he never brought it up with you, so you were forced to pack your feelings back up into a tightly taped box, hoping that one day you could pull said box out and give it to him properly.

Quinn however had consumed almost four cups of your famous Christmas party punch, sending him well on his way passed tipsy and onto the train towards the loud drunk you rarely saw from him. He had wanted to kiss you again, a secret tucked deep in his chest that was bubbling up to the surface with the more drinks he had. He took in your appearance, your hair was down and you had a slight blush to your cheeks from your makeup, the Christmas sweater hanging from your body was stupid and endearing and all he could think about was tossing it onto the floor.

“Mhm, yes I do remember something of that sorts happening, Quinn,” you said, smirking softly at him, a complete act to hide your growing nerves. Quinn smiled the widest drunk smile you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how cute he was.

“Can I kiss you this time?” He asked, loud enough that Brock turned his head from where he was standing, a few feet away in the kitchen as he was on his phone. He raised his eyebrows at you, smirking a bit before turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you and Quinn to yourselves as your heart beat faster in your chest. You gulped back the rest of your drink, setting it down and stepping toward him. Quinn’s hands instinctively went to your waist, pulling you in closer with a lazy smile on his face and a soft expression in his eyes.

“You gonna kiss me or what, Quinn?” Your heart was pounding so loudly, you were thankful for the chatter coming from the kitchen, someone yelling about winning what must have been that round of beer pong. Quinn smiled at you and it only made things worse, the moment feeling like it was hanging in time as you waited not so patiently for him to press his lips to yours again. You almost thought you were imagining the entire thing as he grabbed your cheek, leaning in and closing his eyes. As soon as his lips touched yours you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging softly on his dark hair. You smiled into the kiss, not caring who was watching because all that mattered was Quinn.

Quinn pulled back and continued to hold you, a blush evident on both of your cheeks and smiles that were big and wide. You buried your head into his chest and he kissed your head, no words needing to be spoken between you, it was like you both knew exactly what the other person wanted to say. You knew how Quinn felt, and he knew how you felt, your hearts practically beating in each other’s ears as you shared a not so private moment in the kitchen, a cheesy Hallmark movie type ending that you loved.

“In case it isn’t obvious, I really like you.” Quinn murmured, running his hand softly along your hip as he looked down for your reaction. You leaned up and kissed him once more, smiling into it and squeezing him gently.

“I like you too, even if you hate Christmas movies and have terrible taste in football teams.” You said, earning a laugh out of your favorite person. The two of you spent the rest of the party stealing drunk kisses together, your minds fuzzy with the not new feelings but new ability to express them openly with each other, regardless of anyone else’s opinions or comments. Quinn was absolutely your favorite person, and you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to be with him in the way that you had wanted to for months, even with his stupid reindeer sweater on.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughe fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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freaoscanlin · 3 years

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Put It On the List

3283 words, rated PG. Clint/Laura, Laura & Natasha, Natasha & Clint.

A few months before the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, the spy life interrupts the Barton family on a normal errand. Perhaps bringing the scary ex-Russian spy was a mistake. She thinks so, at any rate.

A/N: I wrote this as something of a prelude to an Endgame fix-it fic in progress. It predates everything in that fic and it's cute, so I'm tossing it up here for now.

“Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

“Sorry we can’t provide more excitement than grocery shopping,” Laura said as she pulled out the stash of reusable bags from the trunk.

“It’s fine.”

Laura was of the opinion that a vacation should be taken somewhere exotic, or at least filled with bottomless alcoholic beverages, especially given as young and unfettered as Natasha was. But the woman who had recently become Captain America’s partner at SHIELD had apparently decided a week off merited a trip to Iowa and she had been absolutely content to tag along on family outings with no apparently sign of boredom at all.

“It’s okay,” Clint said, hopping out from the driver’s seat as Natasha unhooked Lila from her car seat. “Nat’s secretly boring at heart. It’s the best kept secret at SHIELD.”

Natasha gave him a puzzled look. “Now, that can’t be true if even you’ve figured it out.”

“Excellent burn,” Laura said, laughing. “You really should come stay more often.”

“Somebody needs to keep Cap in line, otherwise I would.” Nat easily swung Lila onto her hip, following the other three as Cooper grabbed onto his father’s hand.

Laura had already spent the entire dinner the night before peppering her with questions about working with Steve Rogers, the Captain America from the comments. Clint had mentioned him a few times after that kerfuffle in New York with the Chitauri (“Nice guy, wears khakis.”), but Natasha had the inside scoop. And more willingness to share if he was as attractive in person as he looked on TV in that ridiculous star-striped uniform (“If you like that square-jawed All-American sort of thing, sure.”). Laura had even pointed out that, hey, if he was single...

“Yes, the ex-Russian spy and the American war hero. It sounds too much like a bad eighties movie.” Natasha had helped herself to more creamed corn. “I think I’ll have to find him a girlfriend to avoid ever having to answer that question again.”

“Hey,” Laura had said, protesting.

“Fair,” Clint had agreed.

And now here was the ex-Russian spy herself tagging along at the grocery store, carrying Lila and looking like there wasn’t anyplace else she’d rather be than the big chain grocery store a few towns over because they had a better selection of gluten free snacks than the Shop A Lot back home. She trailed along as Clint took over the cart, Lila kicking her legs happily from the child’s seat atop.

“You’ve got the list?” Laura asked.

“I thought you had it?”

“Clint, I said you need to grab it off the fridge before we left. Weren’t you listening?”

“I always listen to you. But it wasn’t on the fridge, so I thought you had it.”

“That’s ridiculous, I put it there last night and—” Laura turned to see Natasha silently holding it out, eyebrows high. “Oh, that works. Thanks, Natasha.”

A half-shrug. “He would’ve forgotten it.”

“They’re impugning my honor,” Clint told Lila and Cooper, the former of whom giggled back at him. “What’s first? Edible or not edible?”

“Food first. Oh, hey, did you remember to put the popsicle sticks on here? Cooper’s day camp was asking people to donate supplies, and I put us down for those.”

“Yes, I absolutely did that. For no reason whatsoever, may I see the list?” Clint grabbed it away and underhandedly passed it to Natasha. Since Laura caught the move, she figured they weren’t actually trying to hide it.

When the list returned to her, “popsicle sticks” was written on the appropriate line in slightly loopy handwriting. “Cute,” Laura said. “Also, if there’s food you want that we don’t have at the house, make sure you put it in, Nat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Just keep it in mind.” Laura smirked. “Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile broke out when Laura laughed. Later, Laura noticed that a small bag of nectarines had been added to the cart.

Normally she did this errand without two spies in tow, which was a matter of getting the groceries as quickly as possible and especially speeding through the aisles with the brightly colored boxes that would make Cooper and now Lila whine. Clint’s paycheck was more than generous enough to cover their expenses, but she liked to keep the sugar down at least a little. Grocery trips could be a nightmare from that alone. But now she could send one of them down the danger aisles, while the other distracted the children.

She could get used to this.

Of course, she could have just sent Clint or even Natasha to do the shopping—or gone herself—and she imagined they’d have it done in less than a fifth of the time it took them to wander the aisles now. But Clint had been called on so many SHIELD missions lately that it was nice to just have some family time together.

She was about to suggest they hit up the putt putt course on the way home when Clint’s body language snapped into readiness. On the other side of the cart, Natasha turned away in what most people would deem a casual fashion, but Laura was surprised to see tension running across the line of her shoulders as well.

Instantly, she began to turn her head, to see what had set them both off.

“Don’t look,” Natasha said, Clint echoing her a split-second later.

Cold panic sprang up, but Laura froze in place. The air conditioning turned abruptly frigid. In the basket, Lila had conked out, wheezing a little, and Laura had never been so grateful for her daughter’s ability to fall asleep anywhere.

“This way,” Clint said in a murmur, scooping up Cooper. To strangers, it would never look out of the ordinary, but Laura knew her husband too well to be fooled. And his partner, too, apparently, for she could sense something amiss as Natasha fell in step behind her. At the end of the aisle, away from the registers and most of the store, Clint began shoving aside various things in the cart to deposit Cooper in there. He glanced at Laura. “It’ll be okay, honey. Nat, are they here for you or me?”

“Me.” The word was flat. “They’re scoping out women.”

“Who? Who’s here for what?”

She’d seen Clint and Natasha’s silent conversations before, usually at holiday dinners, but those were always warm and amused. Now, Laura was treated to the fact that they seemingly had their own entire language—and the ability to hold arguments with little more than a few nods and pointed looks.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Cooper asked. “Dad put the stuff back wrong.”

“I know. It’s okay, though. The store employees will know where to put it back properly.” Her pulse had begun to hammer, but Laura did her best to keep her hands steady as she petted Lila’s bent head.

“Fine, you win,” Natasha said, the first words she’d spoken aloud. “Where?”

“Northeast corner, break room.” Clint collected an oversized bucket of licorice, and as Laura and Cooper gawked at him, popped it open and dumped the individually wrapped candies into the cart.

Natasha dropped her phone into it and grabbed Laura’s purse.

“What? Hey, don’t—”

Natasha pulled out a few items, including Laura’s phone. This she dumped in the bucket. An unfamiliar black box, she tossed to Clint. Laura stared mournfully at the shimmery blue phone case bought off of Etsy only last week as the entire bucket was hidden on a shelf behind a case of gum. Clint tossed his hooded jacket to Natasha, gave Laura one brief, heart-stopping look, tousled Cooper’s hair, kissed Lila on the head, and strode off without looking back.

“We were followed,” Natasha said in an undertone, pulling the hood over her distinctive hair.

Followed could mean anything from evil assassins to space aliens at this point, and both of those options led to nauseating conclusions. But Natasha shot her a look, so Laura nodded and swallowed back any panic. And then she changed again, quicksilver just like Clint, so that she was bright and happy Auntie Natasha once more. She picked up Cooper out of the basket and held onto his hand, swinging it cheerfully. “Time to play a new fun game. It’s called ‘Let’s be invisible.’”

“How do you play?”

“Our job,” and Natasha actually hunkered down so that she was on eye level with Cooper, “is to get all the way there,” she pointed to the back of the store, “as fast as we can without running. Because if we run, we won’t be invisible anymore.”

“This is a silly game, Auntie Nat.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it? Shh, come with me.” Natasha rose and made brief eye contact with Laura, then headed down the aisle in the opposite direction from Clint. She walked briskly, but not fast enough to draw attention, and Laura had to follow. “Clint’s scoping things out,” she said in a low voice as Laura caught up with the sleeping Lila. “He’ll be fine. I’m taking you and the kids to hide.”

“Are you going to stay with us?”

“You’ll be safe.”

So that was a no. Because she knew her friend well enough, she knew Natasha was tense and watchful, but not a single thing about her betrayed that fact. Natasha didn’t lead them straight to wherever they were going, either. They crossed the store through random aisles, first through the art department and then sporting goods, and Laura’s heart sank as she noticed they were approaching the toy department. They were never escaping without at least one meltdown.

But Natasha surprised her by leaning down and whispering something to Cooper that had him giggling. And right on through they went without a single problem.

“Shh,” Natasha said to Cooper as she pushed open the door to a break room. She peeked inside, then jerked her head for Laura to follow.

“What are we doing, Auntie Nat?” Cooper asked as Natasha immediately climbed onto a table and reached for the ceiling.

“New part of the game,” Natasha said.

Laura looked at the human-sized trap door she’d opened and thought Oh no.

“You get to go up there,” Natasha said. “And it’ll be like hide and seek.”

Cooper’s expression suddenly shouted that he found the prospect of invisibility much less enchanting now. “It looks scary.”

“I’ll be with you,” Laura said. “The whole time. We’ll be invisible together, okay?”

“You first, and I’ll hand them up,” Natasha said.

Laura clambered gingerly onto the table, wishing she’d worn better shoes for this. She put her foot into Natasha’s cupped hands and hauled herself into a very, very dusty vent. Darkness surrounded her and she thought Oh, no. Cooper needed a nightlight on the best of nights. Her son was far cleverer than most; even with Natasha’s easy cheer, he could clearly tell something was off. And if he began crying, Lila was bound to wake as well. Keeping them both quiet would be beyond impossible.

Natasha passed Lila up first, and the toddler barely even stirred. Before she could lift Cooper, she hopped off the table and down to his level. Laura couldn’t hear what she said, but she saw Cooper nod and hold his arms up, completely trusting.

When Natasha lifted him up into the vent, he had his chubby little fist wrapped around a little flashlight. Laura hadn’t even seen Natasha pull that from the shelf, though she recognized it as being from sporting goods. Cooper waved it about, wildly.

“I couldn’t grab much,” Natasha said, hauling herself up so that she hung half off the trap door. Laura would kill for that kind of core strength. She slid over two coloring books and crayons. “Sorry about that. Stay here until Clint or I come to get you. If somebody comes in, we’re invisible, right?”

“Invisible,” Cooper agreed, scrambling for the coloring books.

“Good man.” Natasha reached up to ruffle his hair like Clint had done. She glanced about the air vent in a distinctly sardonic way. “Cozy.”

“Stay safe.”

“Will do.” She raised an eyebrow at Laura, and disappeared down the hatch. A few seconds later, the trapdoor slid back into place, leaving Laura in a dark vent with her children and no cell phone to keep them company.

She had to remind herself that they were lucky something like this hadn’t happened before, though that felt like cold comfort when everything smelled like dust. She shifted the sleeping Lila in her arms. “Here, set it here,” she said, helping Cooper open the coloring book. “What shall we color first, huh?”

* * * *

Nearly eleven minutes later, Natasha knelt down next to the man she’d cornered in Home and Garden and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Coincidence.”

“Yup.” Clint sounded close to laughter, the traitor.

“The whole thing. Coincidence.”

“Looks that way.”

Natasha sat down hard on the bottom shelf, which held giant sacks of birdseed. Slamming his head into those rather than the concrete floor was probably the only reason the thug was even still breathing. She’d need to hide the body soon, and alert SHIELD, but she had a few minutes to recover. The cell phone she’d stolen out of his pocket after their fight didn’t show an image of her, as she’d expected, but a completely random woman who looked nothing like Natasha outside of being the same height.

It had definitely been a hit, but she hadn’t been the target.

At least they’d saved some random woman, so there was that.

“We should’ve known they weren’t here for you when there were only two of them,” Clint said over the earpiece. He’d teased her about stashing them in Laura’s purse before they left, the traitor. And look who’d been correct to do so. It had kept them in contact as he’d stalked his own target back to the clearance section in the back. “Mine’s taken care of. You?”

“One minute.” She hauled the man bodily onto the shelf and tossed sacks of birdseed over him.

“I’ll get the phones and swing by to steal the surveillance. You fetch Laura and the kids.”

Natasha winced. The last thing she wanted to do was face Laura after ruining this outing for everybody. “I think they’d rather see their daddy after being stuffed in a dark place out of nowhere.”

“Nah, Auntie Nat is just as good,” Clint said. “Face it, you’re part of the family now, god help you.”

“Yeah, part of the family that can’t even let us go grocery shopping without disaster striking.”

There was a warm laugh from the other side of the comms. “Disaster? This is nothing compared to getting two small children through the cereal aisle without a tantrum, Romanoff.”

Natasha, reaching up to fix the braids that had become disordered during the scuffle, wrinkled her nose. She debated whether or not to swing by the staff restrooms on the way and clean up the lucky hit the thug had landed, but decided it was more important to get la familia Barton out of the vents quickly. The less time the children spent in a dark, scary place, the better.

She resolutely did not think of the absolute darkness of thatshipping container, which unfortunately brought the thoughts closer to the surface than she liked.

But she also didn’t want to scare the children, so she grabbed a hand towel off an endcap as she passed, and dabbed at her face.

Mercifully, the break room remained empty when she stepped in. “All clear,” she said, moving the table back under the trap door. “Invisible game’s over.”

From inside, she heard thumping. “Auntie Nat!”

“Cooper, wait—” was the only warning she had before the trap door opened and Cooper launched himself at her.

She snatched him out of the air, and absolutely did not think about what could have happened if she’d been slower to react. “Whoa, okay. Excited to get out of there, huh?” Laura’s white face appeared over the edge, eyes wide. Natasha mouthed he’s fine back at her. “Here, climb down, let me help your mom and your sister out.”

“I stayed so-o-o-o quiet,” Cooper said. “We colored in a dinosaur for you, but we didn’t know your favorite color so I picked red like your hair. What is your favorite color? There’s another dinosaur on the page, so if it’s not red, I can use that color instead.”

“I do like red a lot.” Natasha thought about it. “Purple, too, maybe.”

“You can’t have purple, that’s Dad’s favorite color.”

“Coop, more than one person can have purple as their favorite color,” Laura said, transferring Lila down to Natasha. Mercifully the baby had slept through all of it. “I like purple, too, remember?”

Cooper wrinkled his nose at that. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it purple.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Natasha promised. Once the entire family had been retrieved, she pushed the trap door back into place. Of course Clint had scouted this spot months ago. His paranoia remained legendary. “Family’s secure, Barton.”

“Got it,” Clint said. “Heading to the front.”

“Meet you there,” Natasha said. To the others with her, she tilted her head toward the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

Laura looked more or less composed, which Natasha had to credit her for. Civilians rarely handled those kinds of curveballs well, but she’d been married to Clint for a decade. It stood to reason this might not even be the first time something like this had happened. Her grip on the sleeping Lila remained tight. “Coop, hold Auntie Nat’s hand, okay? Humor me.”

“All right, I guess.”

“Everything good?” Laura asked.

“False alarm,” Natasha said.

One eyebrow went up. “A false alarm gave you a split lip?”

Natasha worked at it with her tongue, scrunching her nose at the brief spark of pain. “Just another exciting day in our line of work. It all turned out okay, if you ignore that we were unsuccessful in our primary objective.”

Laura looked blank, so Natasha prompted: “Getting the groceries, Barton.”

“Pfft, whatever. We’ll get takeout. We’ll consider it an adventure, and it won’t even be the first one today. Hopefully there will be less dust this time.” Laura leaned over, conspiratorially. “I am getting my phone back, right? I really like the case, and it’ll take forever to get another one like it.”

Years of espionage training kept Natasha from staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head. Clint had told her years before that his wife was far more pragmatic than either of them, but she’d never had a chance to witness it in action before. She almost wanted to ask if this was some kind of backwoods Midwestern thing, but it seemed better not to do that.

So she settled into a helpless laugh. “Yes, we’ll get your phone back. The case is really cute.”

“Good. I knew you’d agree.” Laura squeezed her shoulder with her free hand, and it felt more like a thank you than Natasha had ever received after years and years on the job.

“One point,” Natasha said, feeling a tiny bit shy as as she pulled out a package she’d swiped on their trip through the store earlier. “We should probably pay for the coloring books. And these.”

Laura looked down at the bag of popsicle sticks and laughed. “You really are a hero.”

FIN

(the target was a leaked witsec hit. Bad timing all around)

#avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff #black widow #hawkeye #clint barton #laura barton #cooper barton #lila barton #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #not simple to say verse

33 notes · View notes

arianajbb · 3 years

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FIC RECS - 2

💕 stay by @you-are-my-sanctuary

A road trip to Arizona goes wrong when you catch the attention of a familiar looking dark haired man with steely blue eyes.

💕 Tell Him, Not Me by @zsiopao

here y/n l/n lands a role in a new television series that will put her relationship to the test.

💕Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

💕 What Could’ve Been by @you-are-my-sanctuary

Steve stays in the past when returning the stones, leaving you behind and erasing everything you two were to each other. Decades pass and he wonders if he made the right decision. Especially since the memories of you still lingers in his mind years after.

💕 Let Your Spirit Fly by @starlightcrystalline

At the end of a long week, all you want is to get home. Fate has other ideas.

💕 painted with bruises by @harryspet

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

💕 Wolf, Partner, Gloves... by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

💕 Sleeping With A Friend by @wkemeup

You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.

💕 An Unpredictable Reunion by @head-always-up-in-a-dreamworld

💕 American Boy by @quarantined-with-bucky

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

💕 Uptown Girl by @brooklyns-boys

You’re a spoiled, shallow party girl who enjoys pushing any button you can find. When your parents put their foot down, giving you the choice between marrying a suitor of their choosing, or being cut off from your money, you’ll have to decide between luxury and the only person who’s ever given a damn about you.

💕 pictures of girls by @subtlebucky

you’re prepared for a fun-filled weekend with a friend you haven’t seen in a while. instead, you get a weekend with the guy who sort of rejected you and a camera. what could go wrong?

💕 don’t forget to sing by @sunmoonandbucky

You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City. An alley is six feet apart, right?

💕 bloody by @buckycuddlebuddy

he looked feral; his eyes black, face contorted in something devilish, lips blood red and shiny and the smirk on his face was promising more than he already had given.

💕 Home by @softlybarnes

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

💕 Kiss Me Better by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky has your heart, but he seems to despise you. Loki comes up with a plan to make him realize just what he’s missing.

💕 x by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky receiving his first piece of fan-mail.

💕 My Roommate’s Boyfriend by @angstysebfan

Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

💕 life with tiny and beefy by @wiensrsoldier

💕 Safe Place To Land by @sunlightdances

You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem.

💕 A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts.

💕 we’re up all night to get lucky by @nsfwsebbie

Your soldier comes home after his prevailing victory.

💕 Jealousy Looks Good On You by @tinymalscoffee

You go to your favorite coffee shop after your date from the morning before never shows up.

💕 x by @sinner-as-saint

uni!seb having a thing for boobies.

💕 Everything by @mariessecretfantasies

💕 Stardust And Starfish by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

“Hey we kissed once in kindergarten but I haven’t seen you since and I couldn’t remember why you were so familiar.”

💕 The Flaw Of Belief by @winterdaybreak

Y/N and Bucky fight over who can be more spiteful, who hates who more. Neither really mean it, but Bucky might just win.

💕 dear... whoever by @whistlingwillows

a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

💕 starring role by @baezen

in which Hollywood’s former hottest movie star faces his biggest challenge yet – proving that he’s still worth the starring role

💕 Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by @cherrypickertheory

You and your husband, Bucky, live a normal life in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. Or you did, that is, until you both realize that the other is a spy.

💕 kitten by @buckycuddlebuddy

“you know,” bucky started, voice low and raspy. “i think i have spoiled you too much lately.”

💕 Summer Days by @sleepypanda27

You meet a handsome stranger at the beach.

💕 Power Over Me by @sinner-as-saint

CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

💕 Bucky & the Beast by @thejamesoldier

💕 House Pride by @delusionalwriterr

After encountering Bucky during a Quidditch game, both of you grow attached to each other. But is the attraction enough to overcome the disapproval of your brother, Tony, and the messy past between your families?

💕 Meet Me In The Hallway by @yikeswtfmate

Y/N and Bucky have hated each other since they were children and now they’re forced to live together, whether they like it or not.

💕 Postcards by @sebbytrash

Takes place after Civil War. Bucky is your best friend but of course you’re in love with him. He goes off to travel the world and rediscover himself, sending you Postcards along the way, whilst you struggle with your feelings.

💕 x by @moteldwelling

(this isn’t a fic but it’s amazing omg)

💕 Helpless by @prongsies

Sirius loved you. Loved you enough to let you go. Loved you enough to selflessly step back, allowing you to love someone he knows could give you the love you deserved - even if it hurts.

💕 What Is, And What Should Never Be by @whoisbxcky

You wake up one morning to find yourself in an alternate reality, in which the Avengers never came to be, and your friends are living perfect civilian lives. However, things are not all they appear to be, and you find yourself facing the worst fear you never knew you had.

💕 Impaled by @revengingbarnes

You’ve been pining after Bucky for months. A compromising situation during a mission brings you a lot closer to him than you expected.

💕 Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky

A blind date has lead you and Bucky to the fourth date. Each one proving that you’ve got it bad more than prior and it doesn’t quite matter what will happen - you will keep on falling for that handsome devil and you don’t even mind.

💕 Flowers by @bucky-the-thigh-slayer

Love can take a while, but the right love is always worth time, and some old fashioned gestures.

💕 The (not naked) pin-up calendar by @bitsandbobsandstuff

When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

💕 Rogue Angel by @harryspet

Bucky tasks himself with deprogramming you, a former hydra soldier. Will he be able to show he cares for you as his Daddy or will your training stop you from seeing the truth.

💕 Saving The Day by @jbbmoved

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

💕 Hidden Lagoons and Seashells by @after-avenging-hours

💕 my heart, my angel by @paintedface

valentine’s day candy grams basically show how popular you are in the school, so you expect to get none, however, one, extremely sweet one, turns up on your desk. except you have no clue who it’s from.

💕 Like Silver Glass by @thejamesoldier

Out of all the things you have seen so far in your life – a colorful plethora of alien species, artificial intelligence, an imaginative array of mutants and their abilities, cyborgs, superhumans, assassins, geniuses, etc. – merpeople fell actually pretty low on your ‘Shocking Things That Exist’ list.

💕 Holiday Heist by @avengerofyourheart

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.

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